Rose Bruno Bailey Tree

Dealing with the Monday blues

No matter how old you get, or what you do in life, chances are you will get the Monday blues from time to time. Even the most optimistic person succumbs to the after-weekend malaise that spreads as fast as the common cold. Perhaps you are a Seattle Seahawks fan and you are understandably devastated by your loss last night in the Super Bowl.

Remember this from Office Space?

Monday is that day that makes you feel like a school kid all over again. I admit this morning to having the Monday blues, but a little walking and running to my favorite music and a Bender Fitness workout should do the trick, kicking in my endorphins and squashing my little Monday blues. I have a lot of goals and I do not have time for the blues, on Monday or any day of the week for that matter.

Besides working on this project, I am also working on my first poetry book, a book I put off when I realized how much weight I gained. Then I put it off because I moved. I could wait forever for the perfect moment and then  I had a realization.

Life does not wait.

I immediately contacted my publisher and now my poetry book is in the works.

A few years back it was a frigid January Monday and I sat at the train station holding my hot coffee cup and feeling like my spirit was being enveloped by my Monday blues. I scribbled this poem on the train that cold and wintery January Monday. A good friend of mine told me everything is material. Every strife and struggle can be used for creative good. So I try to channel my moods even when they’re sour. I try to muse off every single emotion I feel.

Here’s the poem.

Monday

It’s another monotonous morning,

birds are chirping, but spring

has hardly paid a call or visit.

I drink my hot coffee, gripping

the cup like it holds liquid gold.

Fatigue sets in, mentally, physically;

a rat races inside my head.

I am emotionally, physically

drained from running mundane

marathons to empty destinations.

I imagine a kiss, a zealous kiss

that would bring summer

to my wintry body and soul.

Instead I sip, caffeinated tepid cafe;

and long for lips that scald,

daydreaming of a moment

that could warm all of my seasons.

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