Great expectations

This week I am not sure whether I am Pip or Lear or Polllyanna.

Expectation theory suggests that expectations shape our behaviour – if we expect things to happen we will act to ensure they do. But the truth is expectations make you pleased or pissed because their realisations are dependent on people and things outside oneself. 

I’ve been house hunting.

I have aligned my expectations with real estate speak, but they haven’t aligned their expectations with what I am prepared to pay for a fully realised, beach proximate, beautifully appointed, crisp, neat and clean dwelling underpinned by solid foundations and sheltered by an un-leaking roof.  I’m paring back my list of ‘musts’ and my travel time to the rolling waves. I’ll be content to sit in my wet cossies for 10-15 minutes as I drive home from the beach having realised my budget will not stretch to sea views and a short saunter to the sands.  

 I’m doing my bit. 

I just want the agents to do theirs as well. 

I’m hoping I will not be disappointed.

I’m also expecting that when I poke around at an open house I won’t be overcome by the stench emanating from the bathroom that obviously accommodates a football team,  or extermination fumes that have the fleas leap about as if training for their circus act.

I am surprised that acquaintances seem to expect that I will trade my current house and garden for life in an apartment.   It is becoming increasingly obvious that as an older person people expect I am wanting to reduce the physical work demanded of a bigger space and a yard. And that I will never need room for family and guests to visit. I’m not living up to those expectations. It is the family, the friends,  the garden, the privacy and the morning meanders to see what is growing and blooming that sustain me. 

Like the rest of the world I’m expecting North Korea’s President Park Geun-hye to behave himself so I can safely take my granddaughter on a much planned first overseas trip to Vietnam in June.  OK, so the rest of the world is not banking on exploring Hanoi in a few weeks. But, if the news of the world BBC is correct Park Geun-hye is just expecting Barack Obama to call him and all will be well.  I am happy to pay for the connection.

We all have expectations of family. This week I listened to a program on Radio National that explored the notions and realities of sibling rivalry. Commencing with all those adages about not being able to select our relatives it went on to make the point that we are driven by a primeval desire to both kill and protect our siblings: kill because we must compete with them for food and attention, protect because we are of a clan. 

Lear’s  madness resulting from unrealised expectations of  family strikes a cord.  I have been rumbling my belly full, spitting fire, and spouting rain for days. 

Sylvia Plath said: If you expect nothing form anyone you’re never disappointed, or as Alexander Pope put it: Blessed is he who expects nothing for he will never be disappointed.

But,  I’ve got my expectations and reality better get used to it.

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This Week's Art Work:

A place that more than lived up to expectations.

Broome Pier. Acrylic on canvas board 780x560 mm