Monday, December 04, 2006
Sometimes I feel sorry for Monday. Everyone hates it. Like, dreads it to the core. It's like dubbed as the universal impending doom. It's the weekly end-of-the-world. When the alarm rings on Monday mornings, we don't feel as heavy and inwardly disgusted as the other days.
We don't feel the same about any other day of the week. Garfield doesn't hate Wednesdays. It's just a sorry coincidence that Monday ends the weekend. That it's when everything usually blows up in your face as the problem you'd have to solve for the rest of the week. It's the day when heart attacks happen the most. An officemate of mine had a heart attack on a Monday. When Sunday comes, everyone's like, oh no it's a Monday tomorrow. And for some reason, we don't get tired of groaning and whining the same way every week of every year in so far that consciousness hit us in the head.
Who do we blame for feeling the same about Mondays? School? Work? Well, unless you grew up absolutely loving school and work to insane unconditional pieces. I don't know. I mean, do unemployed people dread Mondays? How about those kids schooled at home? Personally I think Monday should file a case against school and work. For making it look so bad.
I bet Tuesday is feeling nice about it's position. It's like, neither here nor there. So you can't really get mad at it. But, if our week started on a Tuesday, would we feel the same way about it? Would the hatred be automatically passed on?
At the state I'm in though, I don't know if I'd feel better being Monday, or being in a Monday. Because if I'm Monday, I can't just be like... fuck you all, that's not my problem. I'm just the day you're in. I don't freakin' care.
Okay, forget it. I'm not sorry for Monday anymore.
dezphaire strapped in @ 10:01 AM
Sometimes bored. Most of the time oddly alive. Phobic of butterflies. Creatively suppressed. Hungry for coffee and shoes. This is my subconscious talking... at times interrupted by my reality.
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