Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Bla mandag

Yesterday was, the sages known as 'they' inform us, Blue Monday. The supposedly saddest day of the year. The Monday after the holidays, when all the right thinking people of the world have staggered back to their jobs or careers to make the money they will need to spend next Xmas.  Of course, this is all pseudoscience or raging bullshit depending on how fancy an education you had, and your mood when describing it.

In my locale it was a gloomy, cold Janvier day, with nothing to distinguish it from the day before (i.e. Sunday) or, for that matter, today (i.e. Tuesday). It was just another day on the calendar that, at my age, is turning over way too quickly for my liking. Nothing overly sad about it, unless you count the UNC basketball team's loss to the bastards from Notre Dame. or the Swedish junior hockey team losing the third place game to Slovakia which also could be quite sad. While those things may be somewhat sad, it is no reason to besmirch the reputation of an entire day. If you are friends with, or in a group of 23 people yesterday would have quite possibly been two of their shared birthday(s) (it happened in my case I know/knew two people who had a birthday yesterday). They, depending on their age, and how the day's celebration of their birth when, probably would not agree that yesterday was so sad. After all, it was the day they came into the world, and they probably enjoy most of their time here. While birthdays can be a depressing sort of affairs for some, for most people at least there is the chance to get cake, and possibly laid, and cake is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

If a simple thing like the end of the holidays, or the date on a calendar makes you sad, then perhaps, just perhaps you need to take a look around in (not at) your life. From your side of your life, not from the vantage point of 'them'. Allow what 'they' see to be unimportant, because mostly it is, and look in your life from the only eyes that really matter, your own. As you punch the alarm clock into submission, and promise it and yourself that nine more glorious minuets of sleep is all you need to make your life complete, roll over and look at the (hopefully there is one) companion sharing your bed, and hopefully your life. Unless he or she is some birthday only type of companion, or you woke up cold, sad, and alone, you have someone there, and chances are they actually want to be there. There, with you, on a daily basis no matter what infinite sadness you may be bringing to the table.  They are there because you convinced them, or they convinced themselves, or a combination that you (and, in theory only you) are the person they want to share their lives with, at least for some period of time. Hopefully (again in theory) that time frame is the 'forever' you may have promised each other in front of a group of your and their closest friends.

If that either temporary or permanent (for the nonce) companion's presence in your life, and your (shared) bed isn't enough to dispel the gloom, then maybe you can (depending on if they exist or not), get out of that nice, warm bed and pad down to the room which is occupied by your offspring. If they exist, there they are, a little piece of your mortality. For good or bad, half of the genes swirling about in their (tiny) bodies comes directly from you. That half, the good half you hope, is a glimpse into the fact that (hopefully) something of you will live on after you cease to exist on this mortal coil. Pause, watch them sleep, and ponder on that for a few seconds. Seconds are precious, and the seconds you spend watching your offspring, your progeny sleep peacefully are seconds that will make the hours of being sexted by your boss much easier to bear.

If not for yourself, or for your bed mate, this then is a reason to tell the saddest day of the year to go fuck itself. This lifetime of parenting that you signed up for will make all the sad days of all the years you have left seem nothing more than a trifle.  A mere bagatelle, that old men in parks waste their time over when the autumn of their lives arrive unexpectedly. Sure that offspring of yours and your bed mate will grow up to have the "I hate you phase" we all do, you did, and so will it. It will, eventually outgrow that phase like you did, and like the most of the rest of us did as well, but that is the offspring's problem not  yours. Yours is the love you feel, and will always feel for that little monster even when they are making decisions that you bemoan, and curse the fate for steering them down the primrose path.

Even if you are 'unlucky' enough to lack both the 'time pressured' bed companion, and the attendant offspring that some times come with them, get out of bed, take yourself a nice, brisk Scottish shower, and get 'into' your life. It is the only one you are going to have by the way, and it is best to use it, as much as 'they' will allow you, in a way that you enjoy. From the director's chair and the writer's desk of your life, it is incumbent upon you, and you alone to make it a production worth watching, living, and seeing. If you fall down on that job, then perhaps not just January 5th is a sad day, but they are all sad days, and will continue to be so if you allow it. After all, sadness is a feeling, and one of the few things in the world you should be able to control (can control) are your very own feelings. Be they for a failing basketball team, or a under performing hockey club. The seemingly impossible task of making your life more than the sum of its parts is THE task that the world has thrown at you. Remember the world (for the most part) exists only to destroy you (and lots of other things, but your main concern is you), and it will eventually. But before that assured destruction happens, it is your job, you raison d'etre, to make your life the best it can be (like the Marines but in a less jarhead type of way). 

P.S. This (awful) post was inspired by, and is dedicated to two people. One who probably doesn't remember being the inspiration, and one that is too young to understand one word of it.

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