Too much has already been said on the topic of Mondays and it warrants no further discussion. Keep in mind, however, that the following takes place on a Monday and thus resides in its grim shadow.
It is one month since Matthew started his job and for the first time, on the first try, he ties a respectable Windsor knot. The knot is shapely and tied at the right length so that the tip touches the buckle of his belt. The tail is just long enough to fit into the loop in back. The tie is not twisted around his neck, so his collar folds down flat. It looks really nice. He looks nice.
In his freshman year of high school, before the first day, he tied his tie once and never undid it - not for four years - though he wore it every day. Every night he loosened it enough to get it over his head and hung it on the hook in his closet.
Matthew's tie looks perfect. It makes him look responsible. He doesn't button his top button, though. That top button is the difference between adaptation and surrender.
It's been positively years since I've had my journal judged (and yet most of my friends from the_reviewers remain -- hi guys!), so on a whim this past Monday I joined the LJ Idol competition. When I saw that it was a competition that had its participants doing a writing assignment every week, I signed right up.
The first week's topic was simply to introduce yourself, and the entry I wrote for it was this one.
So how this works is, all the involved parties post their entries in their journals, then nobody reads them and the contestants just get all of their friends to vote for them. Yes, it's just a popularity contest but now I'm IN it and now it's a matter of pride.
If the integrity of my pride isn't a noble enough cause for you, then how about this: I'm one of only a handful of participants who appears to actually put effort into his journal entries, while the rest go for the stream-of-consciousness rambly style. So not only would you be aiding my fragile sense of self, you'd be striking a blow - albeit an incredibly feeble one - to our rampantly anti-intellectual society. Plus, if I get the most votes (not likely, but POSSIBLE with your help), I'd get to make up the next assignment and frankly, I've got ideas about how to put those chumps to work.
Anybody with a journal can vote, you don't need to be a community member. So hey, vote! It only takes approximately four clicks*, and it will be greatly appreciated.
*one click on the link, one click+drag to scroll to the bottom of the page, one click to check the box next to my name, and one click to submit. You can include one more click to close the window afterward.
Matthew hates Mondays. Mondays overflow, spilling out of the confines of their calendar boxes and flooding the surrounding days with their murky swill. Sunday is completely drowned, soaked and sagging under the weight of the coming week's misery. Some of Monday is even beginning to seep into Saturday nights as the weekend shrinks from the moisture.
His new ID badge is poor, and even though the picture shows Matthew smiling, the desperation is evident in his eyes. This is the false smile of a trapped man, someone hopeless and scared. It is a grotesque and depressing picture of a condemned cubicle-dweller, plus his hair looks stupid. And he has to wear it around all day. Matthew complains about the picture in passing to his boss.
His boss says, "That's not a bad picture. It looks just like you."
"Jeez," says Matthew, "Harsh."