Monday, September 13, 2010

Sundays. Sad days.

All right. So, I'm not the happiest person you'll ever meet. Those who know me the best know that. That said, though, those individuals also know I have the capabilities of being one of the nicest, smartest, caring-est and fun-est dudes they can come across, and that's why I'm lucky enough to have a larger-than-normal core group of really, really great friends. Sure, I may be a bit too sarcastic or cynical from time to time, but as those aforementioned people can attest to, once you figure out what lies underneath of all that, you can simply giggle it off while knowing who I really am, how much love I have in my heart, or how far I've managed to come in this often-complicated life.

But I have a confession to make. I hate Sundays.

No, but really. I do.

They are just so hard, don't you think? There was a months-long span that I consistently said to the same people every Sunday the following: "If I could just have one good Sunday, that's all. That's all I need. Just one." I've since stopped offering such opinions simply because I know everyone is sick of hearing it.

What's wrong with Sundays? Well, it's the beginning of the week, for one. Nobody can do anything on a Sunday without thinking of what it is he or she has to accomplish within the week ahead (and it's not that there's something wrong with having things to accomplish. It's just the feeling of knowing those things aren't done yet. Impatience plays a key role in this, you know). Secondly, Sundays can be often spent as a day of reflection, whether it be while attending some type of church, recovering from a weekend-enduced hangover, saying goodbye to someone you are only allowed to see on weekends, or making that long drive home from wherever it was you spent the previous couple days forgetting about the normal hustle and bustle a life can offer.

Those reasons shutter in comparison to the biggest emotion Sundays are typically accompanied with: Loneliness. As I tweeted this past weekend (which was, by the way, a pretty clever tweet if you happen to enjoy John Mayer from time to time), I am beginning to realize that while alone-time is essential in one's life, knowing you don't have someone else to share certain moments with can weigh heavily on you. Sure, we all want to believe we aren't effected by the notion of loneliness. But the reality is that too much isolation can bring upon too much (possible) sadness. Even someone as independent, stubborn, selfish and ego-driven as myself can admit that I'd love to have a partner in crime when it comes to simplistic day-to-day idiosyncrasies. And Sundays tend to highlight those moments more than any other days a week may hold. It's like a synonym for depression. Sundays make you want to hold someone more than ever while realizing more intensely than ever that, well, you don't really have anyone to hold.

The only thing worse than Sundays? Sundays in the fall. But we'll get back to that once fall officially arrives. In the meantime, I suggest enjoying the only thing a Sunday is good for - the inspiration behind this song, a song that is, by my calculation, the fourth best song ever written...

Thank God for Mondays, right?


  1. In that paragraph about loneliness, you pretty much summed up everything I didn't like about living alone.

  2. Julie - Yeah, I totally know what you mean. That's the worst part about living by yourself. Absolute worst.

    Sheryl - And yes. Love, love, love that song.

  3. You said 4th best song. What are the other three?

  4. Can we just say, again, LOVE this song? ...thought of it this weekend while in search of my cleanest dirty shirt, cider in hand