“On a bad day, I have mood swings–but on a good day, I have the whole mood playground.” -Charles Rosenblum

So…contrary to popular belief, I am not always in a good mood. Today was one of  “those days.” You know the days where you look heavenward and ask “Seriously?”

I looked heavenward a lot today. A lot. In my defense, I had some legitimate reasons for my mood.I do, however, have a series of techniques I employ in an effort to somehow schlep myself from the realm of orneriness to life’s lighter side. I seek after a place of supreme happiness. Okay, that’s probably more of my famous hyperbole, but the point is I try to make an improvement. My charming stubbornness refuses to let life’s circumstances take the reigns with regards to my mood. I just cannot cede control of my attitude to the likes of some irritating little black cloud.

It’s similar to my reason for not listening to music on the radio. I feel like these people I’ve never met have no right to tell me what to listen to. Insane? Yes. Paranoid? Maybe a bit. Adorable? Well, you be the judge of that one…

What are these methods for coping with life’s little negative distractions? First, I eat healthy despite the fact that it’s the VERY last thing I want to do. These depressive stages seem to be the ideal breeding ground for weight gain and, let’s face it, that’s not going to help anyone’s mood. I won’t lie to you: I do occasionally surrender to the lure of a McDonald’s hot fudge sundae to assuage the irritability. “Occasionally,” being the operative word.

Then, I put on some music. Tori works well, but she can be a little hit or miss. It’s easy to have some of her more angst-ridden stuff exacerbate an already cranky mood, but sometimes she’s just great for a purge. Rage Against the Machine works well for this same reason, but their strong political messages are not for everyone. If all else fails I throw on some bubble-gum pop courtesy of my daughter. Did I just admit to that? I suppose so…

And, because I’ve already lost much of my dignity by way of my last confession, I’ll admit that I often dance to these songs. Dance and lip sync. In a room. By myself. Sad? Yes. Hugely cathartic? Totally.

Then, as that aforementioned dignity begins to dwindle to nothing but a distant memory, I’ll make another admission: I do a cheer. In front of the mirror. It’s no small wonder that I have any self respect at all.

Good job, Holl.

Then I journal, call/visit a friend or I blog. Why do I save these far more rational/mature techniques for the last? Why do I relegate them to a place of “if all else fails?” Your guess is as good as mine. I love Hollie; I just don’t claim to understand her.

Yes, I do refer to myself in the third person on occasion. A practice in others that I find somewhat annoying, but rather enjoy affecting myself. Hypocrisy is just another endearing attribute of mine…

Hugs help. Time with my daughter and dog are supremely effective, but sometimes black moods can be contagious so I try and be cautious with this one.

And you know what? It worked. I scaled the wall of my ravine of despair (sounds like something in a fantasy video game.) And here I am offering unsolicited advice to people on a subject I have yet to master. Who wouldn’t love me?



“When my cats aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they’re just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.” – Percy Shelley