Baby, It's Cold Outside

I just put on a Christmas CD.

"Christmas with the Rat Pack",

And really, it's my favorite Christmas album.

You can't beat these guys, no way.

And so I'm going to sit here and sing along

And act like I'm not overwhelmed by yet another Monday.

Mondays are smacks in the face.

I think that's the only reason they exist.

To crush our hopes and dreams

And beat us over the head with them.

Like shoes.

Or rocks.

Or bricks.

Because after a leisurely, pleasant weekend

You go back to wherever it is you spend the week

And you get bombarded with things you'd rather not have anything to do with.

Projects and tests.

People and things to pencil into your calendar.

And sure, we've all got those water cooler conversations and lunch table brouhahas,

But those certainly don't make the five day work week any less painful.

Don't make every assignment worth it.

Don't lessen the stress of every test.

Is there a breaking point for people?

At point do we snap in half and just sigh or cry

And say "I am simply fed up with this mediocrity!"

Yes.

Mediocrity.

I think most of us live in this place,

Somewhere between miserable and swell.

Where things just are.

Where everyone answers "Yeah, I'm just fine. Never been better."

And all the people drive to work and try not notice where they're going.

I do understand,

There are days when things are actually pretty great.

But there seems to be a limited quantity of those days.

And a seemingly endless supply of mediocre days.

I have fourteen of those staring me in the face right now.

Fourteen.

And then a very, very long weekend.

I have to keep bringing it up.

It is my current goal.

Survive another three weeks.

Wade through the preposterousness that is my weekday life.

I complain a lot.

But I'd really like to think that I'm just doing the world a favor by saying what nobody else wants to come to terms with.

But I'd be lying to myself.

Brutal honesty isn't actually the best thing.

I really ought to go,

And do things of "notable importance".

Ha.

So I blush when I talk about him,

Or when other people do.

And I don't particularly like that.

Eh,

Off to do schoolwork.

I talk at you all too much.

Adieu.