A Curious Girl: Moody Self

Ugh, if another person signs my other guestbook with a porn site link, I don't know what I'll do. My most tempting thought is to see if I can get hold of a virus and send it to them. That would probably be very wrong, but hey, you have to admit it would be cathartic.

Today I had an attack of Moody Self. This is not unusual in itself, just it got me thinking. I was in WHSmiths and asked if there were any summer vacancies, and the woman said, 'We don't do temporary, dear, only permanent.' Which doesn't sound bad written down, but the way she said it, honestly. Sooo patronising, like 'You poor naive little twit, as if you thought we'd possibly employ anyone like you.' Instead of doing the sensible thing, and shrugging it off, I loped around feeling a bit pants. Attacked by sudden self-doubt that I'll never get a job anywhere, Moody Self took over and wallowed in angst.

Moody Self also emerged yesterday. I've resigned my job. Jim and Gary (assistant manager and waiter) were trying to be funny, telling me they'd gunk me with the crap that collects behind the food preparation table. Wasn't funny in the slightest, in actual fact they had me scared until I realised that you don't tell someone you're going to gunk them in advance. For one thing, considering the warmth (said table refrigerates food on top, ergo is warm underneath) and the organic matter of the dirt that collects there, the amount of pathogenic bacteria would be shocking. I'd be lucky not to get ill. It was stupid and childish and just made me feel upset. Not to mention that when I handed in my notice, Jim said, "What's the salad bar going to do without you, Helen?" I know he was just teasing but it made me feel naff, because I feel like the entire time I've been employed by them, I've been used as a general dogsbody. Last summer, I was told I'd be hosting for a few shifts but was on salad bar for a fortnight. They forgot about my training forever because I missed a session (not knowing where the schedule was), and then when I did it, it had hardly anything to do with actual waitressing. I had the general feeling that I'd just been ignored for months on end. The only time they seemed to notice I existed was when there was a disgusting job to be done or I missed a staff meeting. So it was hardly very encouraging to point out that I was consistently put on the same boring job, and to imply that if I stayed, they'd keep me on said boring job. It would be one thing if they didn't think I was waitress material, but they've never told me one way or another. And I've handled long queues (to his credit, Jim is the only manager who complimented me on hosting effectively one shift), angry customers, late food, I've even taken a few orders (using someone else's password for the machines, you need a password to take orders) but somehow this counts to nothing!!

Sorry... I didn't mean to descend into a work-related rant :) Anyway, hopefully I'll get a nice summer job doing something I like and not have to worry about it anymore...

But back to Moody Self. Generally, I like to think of myself as a happy person. Generally, I am a happy person, OK so I like to moan sometimes, but I've been blessed, many times over, by many things. Much as I rant, I do know that I've got a good life, and God loves me, and I'm very lucky indeed. If I could focus on Happy Self, I'd probably get a lot more done. I might even have a much better idea of what I should do with my life, because I wouldn't be plagued with the 'I can't's. But then, there's Moody Self.

I pay far too much attention to my Moody Self, who is bad-tempered, insecure, an insufferable control freak, susceptible to sulking, and filled with self-doubt. The trouble is, there's something perversely attractive about angst. Suddenly it seems like the best way to achieve instant cool to write long miserable poems about how everything in the world is awful, to cut people up with your biting sarcasm, and to turn into a moody heroine (/hero), just like a character in some very moving but highly depressing novel.

The chief characteristic of Moody Self is that it doesn't emerge as a result of anything actually important because it thrives on petty things. Moody Self is that afflicted, feeling sorry for oneself state that arises when nothing of particular has got on your nerves. Like patronising women in WHSmith's or managers who think they're funny. Instead of momentary annoyance and then shrugging it off, the Moody Self loves to dwell on these things. I don't think there's anything that's really wrong with sounding off about something that's irked you every once in a while (it's natural and more healthy than bottling it up), but there's some deep, perverse desire I have to make a drama of anything that gives me a moment's irritation or self-doubt. It's silly.

And like I say, the chief characteristic of it is that it's not important. That is both the great benefit and the bane of Moodiness. It's not to be confused with actual depression or real trauma, as people suffering from such things do not want to dwell on them. They may not see a way out, but they don't have that strange enjoyment of their state that the Moody Self has in Moodiness.

The thing is, Moodiness is tricky to deal with, because it's never about anything important. Those little ambient stressors gradually call it into existence, and yet because there's no concrete cause for it, identifying and banishing Moody Self is a trying task. Not least because it's comfortable, in the sense that watching awful television is comfortable without being particularly good. Indulging in something happier seems like too much effort. In any case, wallowing is more fashionable.

I really don't like my Moody Self. Chiefly because it's selfish, and masquerades under the guise of being without those so-called rose-coloured spectacles. No matter how witty or eloquent, cynicism is never the same as wisdom, and there is really no point going through life under the conviction that we are useless and nothing can be changed for the better. For one thing, it's wrong, and for another if we don't try to change things for the better, nothing ever will change for the better.

And once Moody Self has arrived, it'll try and convince me it's here to stay. Wallowing in it is no good at all, but neither is trying to ignore it. The best thing to do is recognise the object of annoyance, and either deal with it, or resolve to move on. I mean, bad stuff happens, people do upset us, and sometimes we do genuinely feel bad because of something that's hurt our feelings. But we need to understand that no matter how irritating, nasty little remarks or tiny failures are not tell-tale signs that we're destined to end up as complete wrecks that never achieved anything ever, and that consciously allowing ourselves to think such things is a total waste of time...

Random word for today: Ennui

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