For me, Monday has always been a weird idea. I know that there is such a thing as the Sunday Night Blues where, if you’re unhappy with work or panicky or overwhelmed or whatever, you start gettting really bummed about how the weekend, the time that’s yours and only yours, is coming to an end. I, for sure, have experienced that feeling. But for me it has always been compounded by the disappointment I had in myself for taking part in what I saw as such a sad cliché. To me, Sunday Night Blues is something you seen in crappy sitcoms, it’s a sign that you’ve decided to let your life be dictated to you by the lowest common denominator of human experience.
I’ve always tried to hold on to the idea that we should be excited about Monday. Monday is the day we get to go back to work with the people who are going to help us make awesome new things come to life. We’re going to learn new things, take weird chances, redefine things and go home knowing that we’ve added something. Is that cheesy? Or ridiculous. I don’t know — how are your Sunday nights?
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