What you didn't know about me (or so I wish to belive)

Now wasn't this a great idea? Start a second blog when the fact of the matter is that I have enough problems keeping my Swedish one alive. But I'll get better. Promise. Cross my heart (and fingers).

Anyway, moving on.

I have recently discovered a new side of my personality: I don't take criticism very well (and this is when everyone that knows me open their eyes wide and says "WHAT?!"). It's true. Although I have, with age, became better at hiding it, I don't cry in public anymore. Much. But none the less I rage on the inside.

Writing is my "thing". It's what I consider myself good at, a bit of a natural talent, if I may say. It's how I express my artistic side. And it's also how the nutty artist in me comes out. Like Van Gogh, but with writing instead of painting. I don't like when people poke around in my works of art, mark on words or sentence structure. It annoys me. Greatly.

I have an early memory from having my writing criticized. It may even have been the very first time I wrote something that was at some level graded. I must have been around seven years old and I sat in my dads kitchen. I wrote a fairytale on tiny little notes and I was very proud of myself. Now I could, not only use my gob to share my fantasies, but make them immortal, in print. I gave the fairytale to my dad and sat back waiting for praise. And I was praised, but this is when I learned that there is always a "but". Very gently did he let me know I had accidentally made all my little "d":s into "b":s. It didn't go down well. My immortalized fairytale was made very mortal - and deceased - as I tore it into little pieces.

These days I don't act immediately on my emotions. When I get something back that I've written, I nag my surrounding to death about why, oh why, this isn't great instead. And how in the world could someone suggest using this word instead of that?? This in combination with a tiny, little dramatic streak in my personality makes me a pain. I greatly admire the people around me that put up with me. Especially my husband. What a hero.