Mondays. Much more than a weekday or a name that repeats at least 52 times a year; maybe 53 if it’s a special year. There is a lingering albeit dormant apathy that is desperate for me to not give a shit and destroy my buzzer instead of acquiescing to the Capitalist bullshit job I’m so lucky to have. Why can’t I be a goat herder or something? Nah… then I’d have to really wake up early and have the responsibility of a whole herd to respond to. No thanks. Let me just click the buzzer and see if I can magically freeze time so I can stay in bed, eat a decent meal, use up all the hot water and shave without cutting myself.
Man, there has to be a study empirically demonstrating that most suicides happen on a Monday because there’s no way a day as shitty as this can get away with it. Or who knows, maybe murders and rapes and major personal catastrophes happen on Monday’s, or at least that’s the way it feels that it should be. Monday… what a shit day (blow me google, I’ll cuss all I want). Another workweek starts and another day I creep yet another notch closer to my death. These are the days that make me want to not care, where I wish I didn’t have a conscience. But no, I need to give a damn and be responsible. Can you imagine what would happen if I were absent? Oh lord, how could they make ends meet? Yeah like if I’m absent an ad won’t be made, a deadline won’t be kept or a person won’t get fired, like that doesn’t happen regardless if I work my ass off. But here I am, yet again shaving too fast, eating too little, showering too quick and resisting the urge to just stay under the sheets instead of doing my work mechanically because I don’t want to motivate myself.
Hooray for Monday’s. Yeah right, there should be a parade every Monday I’m not suicidal, homicidal or genocidal. What a lackluster day to say the least. A day that luckily finishes up with hints of 24, wrestling and ultimate fighter cities in a vain entertainment attempt to exorcize all the violence I’d unleash if some day, probably a Monday, I’d go postal.
Monday… Mon-day, Mundane. So that’s why it’s called Monday, they just did a small word jumble and assembled a word to best describe the shit essence of such a distasteful day. You know what? Instead of saying you feel “blah” or crappy or any other cute word, be honest and say you feel like a Monday. Hell I know I do.