Very few things in life feel like Monday morning. It's an indescribable feeling, a Monday morning, it's like being lightly hit in the face over and over again by an affable but annoying friend whose presence in your life seems accidental at best. That or it's like getting into a really lovely outfit, something that makes you feel "right fit" as the British would say, (I've been listening to a lot of Lily Allen lately) and then being splashed by a bus the moment you walk out of you home. It's either of those, or maybe both at once, you can decide for yourself. This Monday morning met me as I lay curled in a small ball on my extremely uncomfortable dorm room bed with a gray and dreary sky, which is always a lovely way to start the week.
Now, typically I try to be productive with my Monday mornings. While I don't have any classes I do like to use this time clean my room, make my bed, get reading done, and by this I mean I watch my netflix in my pajamas and eat whatever I have lying around because the dining hall is just too damn far away for me to make an effort. But, you know, it's a plan. However, this morning I just couldn't be bothered, even for my less then lofty morning plans. I simply lay in my bed staring at another cloudy and dreadful day here in not-New Haven and wondered what has become of my motivation.
When I was a freshman in college it was not uncommon for me to spend a Friday night studying. Not only was I spectacularly fascinated with the work of Kierkegaard and Burke and Dostoevsky, not only did I have VERY few friends, but additionally I thought it was what I was supposed to be doing. I had drive, I had the fire, I HAD to be reading and working, using every moment, cramming my time full of work, reading, writing, pondering, in general being extremely impressed with myself and my adventures in higher learning. But as the years have passed and with them my intense and fiery neurotic motivation I seems to have lost the urgent feeling that every moment needs to be filled to the brim with my productivity. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a totally compulsive crazy, and if you put a book in front of me it WILL get read. Eventually. Just not this morning. Because this morning I was struggling in bed, cursing the weather, and wondering if not-New Haven ever gets any better then this. But then again, that might just be the Monday.
The weather got you down? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmx0gR7wpYo
Leah Franqui is a fairly interesting person/director/writer/reader/eater/drinker. She likes ugly dogs and dislikes her hair in the morning. She's a sucker for environmental causes and plays hardball with deals on chewing gum. She is a struggle.