I woke up this morning in a bad mood. It feels something like a hangover, but is more difficult to shake off. It clings to me like the Malaysian taxi driver at Kuala Lumpur Airport who followed me around the airport for 45 minutes trying to entice me into his over-charged vehicle. Regardless of how fast I walked, how many airport shops I browsed, how many times I went up and down in different elevators in an attempt to elude him, he was there when I turned around, smiling anxiously, expectantly, grimacingly, all the time tapping his watch as a reminder that he was in a hurry to get into the city, as he had mentioned when he first tried to solicit me. He was obviously not in so great a rush as to give up on me. I could finally take it no more:

"Get out of my face!" I growled menacingly, anger flaring from my eyes like burning steel.

I thought he was going to burst into tears, as he momentarily stared uncomprehendingly into my face, before turning away and slouching off, his feet reluctantly following the rest of his body, while at the same time trying to turn back to me. I was triumphant, the Master of my Fate, determining how and by whom I would be influenced!

I glare into the mirror and demand of myself to banish the bad mood, but all I get back is an equally determined me grimly taunting my efforts. So I turn away disgusted and stalk out of the bathroom, feeling my mirrored eyes following me out and the bad mood swirling in my mind like a typhoon.

It's not the mood that has got me down. It's the fact that I can neither control it nor get rid of it. I am powerless and I don't like the feeling.

26 March 2002

Dion Marc Delport

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