Monday blues

It normally doesn't occur to me that Monday would be such devastating to start. Obnoxiously work gives me more headache than facing the wall, I kinda find talking to the screen myself is more entertaining.

I hate work!

But I know there are people who enjoy their jobs. Not me. But that's not the reason I'm on non-paid vacations, it's strictly familial issues and to divulge more, still personal. The reason I stared blankly at my uniform gave a spike of electric shots ran down my spine, I hardly believe my vacation is over and work starts tomorrow.

Let me brief about my job. It's nothing fancy. Call it whatever you want. But I have a decent living with my second job, which drives my soul crazy on its hypnotic sensation when pounding on the notes and yes, exactly, I'd rather pound than to jab, rather sprung high on chords than hitting floors with code-blues, those codes are real headaches that aspirins cannot solve. I hate codes, and when I retire; no more codes. You all get what I mean there.

I should be putting myself on high with ecstatic rhythms (yes that's a cure for all blues) and my workplace should better be free from non-sensible up-aired hymns that very few people would enjoy (I wonder who would). There is rhythm, but they're whistled. Not monotonously, but rather eerie when it sounds more like "pulling a bull up the tree" (Chinese saying). Now people get how horrible that sounds like. SO I guess it's wise never to air such music, such hymns, where very few, maybe the minority of listeners would enjoy.

Why would whistle tunes be so poignant? I guess my taste of being too classical has tuned more to dramatic, frenzy, improvised chords than laying the piece right in front of you, playing every note out of it. Boring. No. I may say that Classical music is never boring; but that'll be another topic which I'll ponder upon. Just that classical pieces do not blend into the jazz world. They are enemies. But would I rather say the classics have not reached the period where jazz began? Enemies or not, one may not know if Mozart, or Chopin, or Brahms, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, or Bach would venture into jazz as much addicted as they were towards their work. Musicians argue that Chopin may be the father of jazz. Then to Gershwin. I may be very wrong. The thin gray line which many musicians today argue upon the birth of jazz may just lie when Mozart had not tickle his brain enough to improvise certain chords. Again, I am no expert.

Siphoning from work to music and from arts to science, many gray areas are laid where we hardly understand why. And if Monday has not come, maybe I'll never write this after all. Let's just say that my workplace is filled with melancholics where soft new age music springs up high the air every morning, that will be a great treat for them. The company has no worries about the decrease of quality. And for non-melancholic like us, that spells disaster. So everybody takes Monday blues differently. Some may be energetic enough when the first alarm rings in the morning, can't wait to get up and shower. Sounds strange isn't it?

Coz I'm not like them. Maybe I should.

Maybe Mozart or Chopin would love jazz after all.