Assuming the worst...

Before I start my ranting for the day, let me just give a huge shout out to my brother Lance who is celebrating his 27th birthday today. Wishing him success, health and wealth...!

Today's topic is about assuming the worst, about being negative.

Here's what triggered this topic: a friend of mine recently told another friend that she was too fat for her height, and "humbly" suggested that the friend go on a diet and try to loose 20-25 pounds, otherwise no guy would want her. I've spoken about weight before, and this has nothing to do with the actual weight problem. The issue is more to the fact that my friends and I who were sitting at the same table listening in on the conversation were confused. Did my friend (let's call her Kate)actually say that because she was genuinely concerned about my other friend's (let's call her Ann) weight and guy problems or was she just trying to be mean? Can't deny the fact that Kate can be a b***h when she needs to (pardon the language!). My friends and I looked at each other around the table, then one by one started criticizing Kate for her weight comment, and she got upset because she said she was just really concerned that Ann was a bit on the heavy side.

Honestly, I look back at that conversation and how we reacted as friends, and I am embarrased. Why did I think the worst of Kate? Why did I immediately assume that Kate was just being mean or hurtful, instead of thinking she was genuinely concerned that Ann was a bit too heavy for her own good (and by this I mean for health reasons). For the record, I personally don't think Ann needs to lose 25 pounds! But that's not the point, the point is why was it easier to assume Kate was just being cruel instead of being genuine?

As human beings, it's often so much easier to just assume the worst about everything: about people, about situations, about just about anything. Like when your boss suddenly calls your extension and asks you to go up and see him, and the entire way there, you are thinking "Oh my God, he's going to fire me." Or when you try and call your boyfriend ten times and he doesn't answer, and you automatically think he's dodging your calls because he's bored with you. Another one that is most familiar to me is when I walk into a room and people stop talking, and I automatically think they were talking about me. They probably were, but again, that's not the point.

So why is it so difficult to think of the best instead of the worst? Why is being positive so challenging, and negativity seems to just be woven in our brain cells?

I'd like to think that I am a person who can objectively see things from different perspectives, thus leave no room for negativity. But evidently, I'm not, even though I try really hard to be. Being positive is supposed to make life so much easier, but it's so difficult to even try to be positive. What's that all about?

Bye bye bag...

Ah, Paris... City of Lights? Maybe. City of Crime? Heck, yes!
I was minding my own business, talking with some colleagues in the cab ride from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel when all of a sudden, the window was smashed and some dude (now, nearly 12 hours later I call him "dude" but earlier he was "jerk") grabbed my bag. My beautiful black leather Chanel bag, with some of my lifelines inside: iPhone, Blackberry, iPod, wallet (with cash + cards), limited edition Emilio Pucci pen, Chanel necklace, lipstick, business cards, passport, ID card, frequent flyer cards, and the list continues (unfortunately).

I was stunned, shocked and literally speechless. It wasn't until my friend kept shouting to the cab driver to call the police did I actually realize what had happened. I swear, when the window was smashed, I actually thought I was being shot at, and I didn't even realize my bag was gone.

After the shock came anger. It was like I was on an anger high or something, I couldn't stop being so upset at the stupid dude who took my stuff. I hadn't felt anger like that in a very long time.

Then, came sadness. I was so overwhelmed by sadness that I had lost some of the things I really (really) loved and depended on (i.e. Blackberry for tweeting and iPhone for all my games) that I kept crying and crying until my eyes felt like they were burning. Of course, while I was at the police station, I kept my cool, but as soon as I checked into the hotel, I cried buckets.

Now, after all that, what's left of me is wonder. I can't stop to wonder and ask so many questions: why did he need money so much that he would go to the lengths of committing a crime to get it? Why did it happen to me? Why didn't I keep my bag under my leg or something? Why didn't I see him coming? Why didn't the cab driver see him coming? Why can't the police catch him? What am I going to do with no money? How can I get back all the numbers and info I had in my phones? What happens after this?

Honestly, even though it's a long shot, but I have been telling myself that the guy needed an operation or needed to pay for college or something that cost a lot of money that he didn't have so he resorted to stealing. Somehow, this way of thinking helps me "forgive" - even though it's still nowhere close to being easy to do.

So they say that everything happens for a reason. I really, really, wonder what the reason is for this one. Seriously.