Mondays and Lukewarm Coffee

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not one to sit down and actually write. I’ll also be the first to admit that hustle culture definitely stops me from slowing down and “smelling the roses” so to speak. So when my research supervisor for my doctorate program told me to start reflecting regularly, the familiar face of sheer shock showed up, manifesting in my clammy hands and squirming in my seat. The reason I don’t sit down and write in the first place is because I never quite know how to start. I could write an entire page and decide I hate it, and start over, just to cringe yet again. This is my meager attempt to change that narrative. I want to start by finding joy, any day of the week, wherever I may be whenever I choose to sit down, and I’m choosing to start on society’s singlehandedly most (un)delightful day of the week (Monday) sipping on a nauseating cup of coffee I’ve let become lukewarm through nothing but my own distraction. Because the joy  here is to just start, sipping that lukewarm cup, sitting in a chair that makes me uncomfortable after a while, with the window open, blasting late summer heat and sun into my face. This is a perfectly reasonable place to find the joy in starting.