Dear Monday,
Thanks for having the word "mon" in you. That's French for "mine," in case you weren't aware, Monday, but it makes me think of you more as "my day," and frankly that sounds like a much more promising start to the week.
Best, Leah
I've had two good Mondays in a row now. What's that? Yes indeed, they are having a snowball fight in hell. It's so weird. Mondays are usually unpleasant. They have never been my least favourite day of the week, but they are generally just kind of blah days. But two weeks in a row now my Mondays have been fabulous. I know why they have been too, which almost makes it better. There is something deeply satisfying about knowing why I am happy.
The "Dear Monday" quote is from thxthxthx. I've only recently discovered this blog and am absolutely head over heels with it. I've actually started writing my own thank you notes to things and posting them on my wall. It's forcing me to look at things a bit differently. All part of my decision to surround myself with beauty. Leah's notes are just so charming and it is such a refreshing way to look at the world. I found this one about Monday to be so wonderful. And so appropriate. I might have to start thinking about Monday as "my day."
January has issues with her mother, February is always talking about things he wants to do while March does them, April eats sweets and May pays for them, June is the oldest but not the wisest and July always has an opinion on everything. August never stops trying do the right thing, even if he doesn't always know what that is. September once saw something so sad, she never stopped crying. October holds the lift for anyone, vice-presidents and street-sweepers alike (for his memory, not for theirs) and November makes fun of him for this. December is tired but always hopeful. He has never once stopped believing.
Monday's obviously a bastard, quite literally as dad can't remember what or who he was doing. Tuesday's temperamental but ok as long as you stay on her good side. Wednesday doesn't say much and Thursday sometimes hums just to break the silence. They're in love. Friday's always wasted and she and Saturday hold each other tightly until their delirium fades.
But Sunday, Sunday knows she's the end. But she closes her eyes, and she pretends with all the strength in her tiny heart that really, she's the dawn.
In the past I have tried to avoid directly quoting other blogs, I am not exactly sure why, but I am breaking that habit today. I was reading little chief honeybee today and she had reposted a positively beautiful bit of writing from I Wrote This For You. I had never heard of this blog before, but loved the repost so much that I decided to check it out. I immediately fell in love. It combines strikingly beautiful photography with exquisite writing that is sometimes deeply melancholy, sometimes beautifully hopeful. I am enthralled. I think I have found my new source of inspiration for blog posts, and you may see many more reposts from there in the future. This post seemed appropriate given that it is Sunday today. I think the final lines really capture the paradox of Sundays; they are filled with both hope and dread for the coming week, they are filled with sorrow for the past week and the end of a weekend, and yet they have a glimmer of joy and promise as a new week begins. I also liked this post because apparently it isn't just me who gives character traits to months and days. I often feel like I must be crazy because I personify inanimate objects all the time. At least now I know that if I am crazy I am not alone in that craziness.
