Considering the state of things…
Unlike tens of millions of my fellow Americans who chose yet again to celebrate this new year by embarking on ridiculous quests for self-improvement – like losing weight or quitting smoking or quitting drinking or limiting sexual conquests or quitting sex altogether or renouncing organized religion or endorsing the metric system or accomplishing any of a number of other preposterous goals – I elected to merely scrub clean the stubborn mind state that has devastated and stunted my growth and maturity since a very early age.
With but one benevolent twist of perception I truly felt great strides could be taken – no longer could I justify any reasons for delaying this necessary transformation. Change seemed certainly imminent, as I deemed the new year as a convenient time to finally confront my distaste for my least favorite day of the week.
You see, it has been documented rather exhaustively that my main, and perhaps lone, archrival in this cruel world is that annoying first day of the week, known by most in the English-speaking world as Monday. Given there are some Mondays I have grown infinitely fond of, such as Labor Day and Memorial Day and my birthday every 8 or 9 years, yet I would be errant in claiming to enjoy the day as a whole any more than I do a pint of bubbling sewer water.
I cannot rightly claim, however, that Monday has it out solely for me. I understand its indiscriminate nature. Monday never saves any of my counterparts in the workforce from the mental anguish of rising and realizing the weekend has become but a juicy memory, ripe with tales of drink, sport and perhaps some unexpected, albeit welcomed, debauchery.
Monday is eagerly awaited by few, and of those few I suspect three quarters suffer from some chilling mental disabilities we should all be so lucky to avoid. The difference, I am now certain, is that while I may not be alone in despising the day, I have been negligent in learning to accept its unholiness with a grain of salt like some of my stronger co-inhabitants of this planet.
Mondays, I feel, are for the assertive, the spirited, the eager-handed willing to wrestle the bull to the ground by its own menacing horns; Mondays are for the alert, the rested, the restless species of man that uses weekends not for celebration, but for preparation for the ensuing week.
Further self-analysis has alerted me to the demoralizing fact I likely belong to none of these esteemed crowds.
So there it is, not but five days into the new year and already have I abandoned my resolution, my futile quest to appreciate Monday – embrace every Monday – for the fresh, new opportunities found there within.
Indeed, Monday would be wise to avoid me at all costs, for I wish nothing except grave harm for its merciless being and all those willingly associated with it.
I say good day, day! Chalk up one more failed attempt at change.