On Mondays (Redux)

The following piece was written by yours truly quite a few years back, out of no apparent necessity and for no real reason whatsover; at the time it seemed to be the last of this pointless urge that has only recently resurfaced in the form of, well, whatever this is (I could say "blog", but I'd rather take my time and coin a fancier and less demeaning term). Its existence had since been forced to latent memory for practical and sanity-related reasons, until it found its purpose, which I guess is to serve as filler until I sort out the ominous voices in my head and write something of relative meaning. So here it is, the literary equivalent of meat in a can, almost the same as it was the day it got shelved.

Monday morning.

It is an indefinable amount of time to seven when I finally force my eyes to gradually open. Deep from within the cavernous vastness of my head I have been hearing a repeating, urgent sound. I can now safely identify it as either an alarm clock, or a freight train racing towards me. Neither case is particularly pleasing. Initial efforts to get up have brought to my attention that what was once my head has in fact been replaced with what feels to be a seven-ton monolith, give or take. I'm pretty sure sand has crept down my throat as well. In my still half-asleep mind an all-too-familiar dialog plays out; "Alright kids, what did we learn today?" -and the answer always comes in chorus; "Drinking feels good at night, but reeeally bad in the morning!". By now I could have muttered the all-time classic "I'm never drinking again - ever!", but let's face it, lying to yourself never did any good. Instead I opt for another classic: "I really, really don't like Mondays".

Now, you can ask Sir Bob Geldof and he will assure you that I am not alone in this. However, since I lack the crazed determination of a gun-toting sixteen-year-old to act on it, or even the knack to write a hit song about it, I'm simply stuck with disliking them. Not that Mondays themselves are to blame per se; they did not ask to be put right after Sundays. This is how things go in the Great Walk of Life, where no one is really innocent. So Mondays are called upon to bear the burden and blame of opening yet another week and perpetuating the cycle. The concept alone is absurd, starting what you've already been done with; then again, everything in the Great Walk of Life is.

History reference: in 1979, the Geldof-led Boomtown Rats had a hit song with "I Don't Like Mondays". The Dubliners' song tells the true story of sixteen-year-old California high school student Brenda Spencer. On a fateful Monday morning, Brenda grabbed her father's gun and opened fire on her school from a house across the street, injuring eight students and killing the school's principal and custodian. When later asked why she'd gone on the shooting spree, she simply responded "I don't like Mondays". Since then the phenomenon of school shootings has been a recurring one around the world. State officials, sadly enough, have never been proactive about banning firearms, let alone Mondays.

Be aware.

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