Cinnamonday

Mondays are strange creatures, there's a Monday outfit, a Monday mindset, Monday music, even a Monday walk.
It's basically the day where you have to be mindful of the mindless that is the hordes of people who are still enchanted by the lull of the weekend stupor.

So what is it exactly that is so daunting, so impossible about Monday? Shouldn't your Mondays taste better? For one, it's the re-entry into the boisterous, bickering, bustle of city life. I am not saying that rural folk don't have their moments of insanity, no. What I'm saying is that in the big, evil ol'city, I'm of the mind that people thrive on it, they are in the worship of it, it is the very spoon in which they burn their fix.



This image accounts for 85% of the Monday morning crowd.

When you see them walking around with this mouth agape bewildered look plastered on their faces, it's not because they're shellshocked by their surroundings, it is simply an unwatered feeling of awe, like they've just magically moved an object with sheer mind power. So to get around all this, I've tasked myself with purposely upheaving my weekends. That's right. Weekends; time to relax, have fun, meet friends, act kooky, knock back a few of grandpa's old cough medicine, shoot someone in the jugular with a dart gun and laugh about it, etc., right?

Good heavens no! Not anymore, at least for the trusty scribe who is myself. Now I am not endorsing this as a lifestyle, I am not vouching for this to be the answer to all your dreams and aspirations, so please, do not endeavor to try this for yourself. The answer? Don't sleep on Sundays. More explicitly, don't sleep at all if it's past midnight, instead, get 12 hours of sleep prior to the fangled, magical, carriage to pumpkin transforming hour of midnight.

Come Monday morning, you'll be as alert as prostitute when the Navy docks in town, you'll know all the moves and you'll be on song. Dare I say it but you'll be reenergized like case study No.2



Now repeat after him.

In fact, you would be so awake, you might even spot out these Kodak moments.

I was walking to the train station. Well obviously I walk, I had too much luggage to run and crawling on hot tarmac really isn't advisable. Not when it's soaked with putrid garbage water. Coming back, I was on my journey and up ahead I saw a woman quarreling with a man. She was gesticulating wildly, her face sporting a warm sheen of shiny beads of sweat and her tongue rolled with the panache of a seasoned argumentalist. Now this is just dandy except for the jarring and ironic fact that, she was wearing a tshirt stating, "For the sake of peace".

The good thing is that she realizes her problem. For the sake...right on.

I saw a beautiful woman today, she was stunning, so serene, long straight nose bridge and well dressed too. i bet she smells tasty. Alas the lofty sensation had to be cast aside somewhere for that is the way of Monday. She had a prune of a mole lodged on her left cheek. Yet, it's not so bad. Personally I would've taken the time to get the mole a haircut though.



What's the deal with women and make-up? It's time consuming and there are lots of compounds to contend with. Really what is the applying of make up if not simply painting one's face? I think they should do that, just pick one color and go, let it reflect your mood. There's a brush and there are colours right? "Oh morning Sandra, I see you're orange this morning, fantastic weekend?"

What I don't get is the women who choose to do their make up in the car and in the train? Is the train an art gallery or something? What sort of braincells float around in their heads? Somehow I think they like the attention and it's our faults, have you ever seen a group of men just gaze longingly at a woman whose applying make up? She might as well be rubbing her breasts with warm oil. So feeble, the human mind. Or maybe they're thinking "Oh no. No, no, that just isn't your colour"

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