A skill often over looked

I like to moan.

There is virtually nothing else in my life that gives me the same sense of satisfaction than complaining to some poor soul who doesn’t know how to respond to my ravings. Those who bear the brunt of my rants usually consist of:

1. Banking personnel
2. Government personnel
3. Support personnel
4. Secretaries
5. Select friends

In the last case, I’m surprised that I haven’t been told to shut up yet. I think that the only reason that this hasn’t happened yet is because I apparently become witty when exploding into angry dialogue.According to one friend of mine. And probably my other nearest and dearest, who always delights when I launch off into a burning hell-fired soliloquy whilst pacing about, throwing my hands into the air, punching the invisible people who have, quite frankly, pissed me off, and randomly invent new, amusing and when you think about it, terrifying expletives.

Vented, I sit down calmly (or stop typing) and then float off on a tangent about how pineapples look like they’re capable of war atrocities.

It doesn’t take much to kick me off. Waiting does it, as do stupid adverts about shampoo that instantly emits orgasmic, scented (and worryingly visible) perfume the moment you pop the cap. If my shampoo did that, I’d be peeing onto a flannel, covering my nose and mouth and then finding a way to dispose of what is essentially the resurrection of mustard gas. And it might as well be considering the amount of chemicals the shampoo actually contains.

See? One beautiful rant about something the majority of people wouldn’t even think about, wouldn’t worry about. I’m regularly told to ‘chill out’. That’s annoying in itself. Why do I have to be complacent? Why do I have to be the silent woman? Why am I not allowed to shout out, in linguistic bouts of cathartic euphoria, my petty frustrations if it makes me feel good.

I’m the person who will argue to the death about a bank charge that shouldn’t have been taken, and it’s not my death I’m talking about. One thing that I have learnt to do throughout my academic career is how to argue, which in my eyes, is a valuable life skill. What would I do without it? Write ‘doormat’ across my forehead and then roll over?

I was in a discussion with my Dad the other day who said something about putting in a damages claim for an accident I had. I was complaining about the circumstances that surrounded the accident. He continued to hint that I should make a claim. The conversation came to an abrupt end when I loudly stated:

“I don’t want to claim, I just want to moan at someone about it.“

At this point I remembered where I was. The doctor’s surgery. My Dad hushed me down and a woman sitting near us leaned forward and gawked at me.

And that’s another thing. Why do people need to gawk when they witness another person doing their nut or generally being their eccentric selves? Why don’t you get it over with and just stick me in a sideshow? That way, you can pay to watch me be a raving lunatic.

Quite honestly, the isolation brought about by my sudden outbursts of articulated fury is welcomed because when it comes down to it, I’m quite fond of being left alone by the majority of the world.

Peace and quiet is a rare thing to come across so the lure of making yourself unapproachable to the masses is appealing. Of course, there are always exceptions. I do need to get on in the world, so I have to make allowances here and there amidst my glittering career of being a grumpy griper. Don’t think for a second though, that this will stop me from moaning about it…

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