I know that many denizens of the Friday office feel the same and so, for them and for the unknown woman who just tried to put me in her grocery cart, mistaking me for a container of cottage cheese, large curd, I have come up with this, a Monday v. Friday brain Survival Guide.
It’s Friday. Right now it is. I have no idea what day of the week it is while you’re reading this. It could be Tuesday or Thursday. But the day you’re reading this doesn’t matter, because we all experience the same phenomenon, the Monday brain versus the Friday brain. So, if you need to write a letter to protest, I’ve got it right here for you, just copy and paste this into the body of the email.
To Whom It May Concern,
Dearest Whom,
Imagine my chagrin when I open this blog on your site only to discover the first line is “It’s Friday.” Well, sirs, it most certainly is not. It is, in fact, Tuesday, and I am having tea and a very runny egg, soy bacon, and the leftovers of an argument I was having with my wife that got dropped on the floor due to the fact that she had an important backhand lesson with her tennis pro.
I would appreciate it if you could tell the trained chimp you employ as a writer that saying it’s Friday when in fact it’s Tuesday is confusing, agitating, and thoroughly unappreciated. Here I was having Tuesday breakfast when suddenly I was thrown into the possibility of a Friday. I am unprepared, I'm wearing the wrong underwear, and I should be eating actual bacon ripped from a pig, not some pale simulacrum of bacon produced by squeezing soy beans into a bacon mold and adding much brown crayon to give the soy squeeze a popper bacon-like color. Suffice to say, your writer has thrown off my entire week, and now I am going to go to bed until it is ACTUALLY Friday. Please notify thusly.
Sincerely,
Fluctuous Brown
So, send that off to me and I will do with it what needs to be done. Most likely something that involves me being in the bathroom.
Moving on. I have Friday brain. I know I have to work, produce things for clients, and yet, my mind wanders to state fairs, cows, that weird, clear jam that surrounds a canned ham, and the word gluten. I have no desire to work or produce, and I know I am not alone. I know this because last night I stepped into the street and screamed, “Am I alone?” and I was hit with a sandwich hurled from a moving vehicle. So, nope, not alone.
Being unalone as I am, I know that many denizens of the Friday office feel the same and so, for them and for the unknown woman who just tried to put me in her grocery cart, mistaking me for a container of cottage cheese, large curd, I have come up with this, a Monday v. Friday brain Survival Guide. Shall we dig in? I think we shall.
Monday Brain: The Overachieving Intern We All Hate
Monday brain is a peculiar beast. It wakes up fully formed, caffeinated, and deeply offended that you are not already at peak productivity. It’s the part of your mind that opens your email inbox, sees 237 unread messages, and thinks: Yes. This is exactly the adventure I wanted.
Monday brain has opinions. It judges your weekend choices like a strict boarding school headmistress, dressed in body-hiding black, but hinting underneath that all the punishment and vitriol she doles out is for your own good, but she has a wet spot for it as well. Did you sleep in? Monday brain frowns. Did you binge-watch a show instead of learning a new skill or writing a novel? Monday brain shakes its invisible finger, muttering about wasted potential and the lost art of urban sheep shearing. It does not rest. It plans. It strategizes. It reminds you of deadlines you didn’t know existed and projects you forgot were even yours.
Even when you try to feed it—coffee, breakfast, podcasts about productivity, the word spatula over and over—it’s never satisfied. Monday brain thrives on lists, color-coded calendars, and very specific font choices. You may feel like you are the one running your day, but no, Monday brain is steering the ship, and you are merely holding the coffee cup.
The worst part? Monday brain never forgets. Every mistake, missed call, or ill-advised TikTok scroll from last week is cataloged in a mental folder labeled Exhibits of Shame, with an emoji of a nun with a Rottweiler. Open it at your peril, because Monday brain will read the contents aloud with dramatic flair, as if you are on a stage and it is auditioning for an emotional monologue.
And yet, Monday brain is not entirely cruel. It can achieve remarkable things. It can draft a proposal in record time, solve problems you didn’t know existed, and even produce brilliance before lunch. But beware: its generosity is conditional on obedience, caffeine intake, and absolute compliance with its version of reality—which is stressful, intense, and somehow always five minutes faster than your own perception of time.
And then… Friday happens.
If Monday brain is a military general barking orders, Friday brain is the slightly drunk cousin who wandered in wearing sunglasses indoors and insists it’s time to play the triangle in the family orchestra. It is loud, it is unruly, it is distracted, and it does not care about deadlines. Friday brain arrives like a parade you didn’t RSVP to: unplanned, slightly inconvenient, but undeniably festive.
Where Monday brain catalogues shame and achievement with terrifying precision, Friday brain is happy if you remembered to brush your teeth, where Monday brain plans projects that will change the world, Friday brain plans what snack pairs best with a 4:37 p.m. coffee. And somehow, despite all its distractions, Friday brain survives—and occasionally thrives—on chaos, humor, and the faint hope that someone will let it leave early.
Friday Brain: The Hero We Didn’t Deserve
Friday brain is a curious creature. It arrives unannounced, wearing socks that don’t match, humming a song only it knows, and bringing with it an urgent need to think about everything except actual work. If Monday brain is a general, Friday brain is a rogue street performer juggling flaming marshmallows while riding a unicycle through a library. Somehow, it is mesmerizing. Somehow, it gets away with it.
It begins innocently enough. You open your laptop and think, “I’ll just check email.” Suddenly, you’re deep into a rabbit hole of state fair videos, artisanal cow memes, and the intricacies of canned ham jam—a clear, gelatinous substance that, by some cruel cosmic joke, exists only on Fridays. Somewhere between page three of “Weird Things in the Grocery Aisle” and an article about gluten’s emotional journey through the human digestive system, you realize that productivity is a quaint concept from a distant land called Monday.
Friday brain is masterful at multi-tasking… or at least giving the illusion of multi-tasking. You may have three tabs open, one call on speakerphone, and a half-eaten foot that qualifies as lunch, but do not be fooled: Friday brain is not focused. It is meandering, wandering, and occasionally collapsing in a heap of giggles when someone says the word pickle. It thrives on small victories: sending one email, replying to a Slack message, not accidentally hitting “Reply All” to the company-wide announcement about the new bathroom policy.
It is also philosophical. Friday brain contemplates the big questions while staring at the ceiling: why is there always one sock missing after laundry? Is the jam in the canned ham a metaphor for life? Can one truly call it a “sandwich” if it is hurled from a moving vehicle? These musings are urgent, important, and utterly useless—but Friday brain pursues them with the dedication of a poet on a pogo stick.
And yet, Friday brain is generous. It reminds us that we survived the week, that we made it through Monday’s tyranny, Tuesday’s mild optimism, Wednesday’s existential panic, and Thursday’s slightly bruised determination. It celebrates small wins—a completed task, a funny Slack thread, a snack that didn’t fall on the floor. And it whispers the sacred words every worker lives for: “Almost done. Almost free.”
Friday brain does not judge. Friday brain laughs. Friday brain encourages you to write a blog post about the absurdity of work while secretly wondering if you’ve checked Twitter lately. Friday brain knows that the best thing you can do sometimes is nothing—and that sometimes, nothing is exactly what the workweek needed.
So, here’s to Friday brain: the hero of the office, the chaos coordinator, the champion of snacks, tangents, and existential canned ham. It is messy, unpredictable, slightly terrifying, and wholly necessary. Without Friday brain, we would forget how to breathe, how to laugh, and how to survive the final stretch to the weekend.
And now, after wandering through the jungles of Monday’s tyranny and frolicking in the meadows of Friday’s chaos, we arrive at the calm clearing: Tips & Tricks for Surviving Both Brains.
Here, we trade the wild abstractions for slightly more practical wisdom—though don’t expect miracles. Monday brain will still judge you, Friday brain will still wander off to contemplate canned ham, and somewhere in the middle, you might find yourself smiling at the absurdity of it all.
These aren’t life-altering secrets. They’re gentle nudges, like tiny breadcrumbs to help you navigate the workweek without accidentally emailing your grocery cart or getting stuck in a jam meditation. Consider them survival tools for humans who, like me, have felt the sandwich of existence hurled from a moving vehicle and thought: Yep. That’s a Tuesday.
Tips & Tricks for Surviving Both Brains
- Feed Monday Brain, Bribe Friday Brain<br />Monday brain is hungry for control, organization, and very specific fonts. Feed it coffee, breakfast, and a clear to-do list. Treat it well, and it might actually let you accomplish something before lunch.<br />Friday brain, on the other hand, responds best to bribes. Snacks, tiny celebrations, and the occasional GIF of a dancing llama are known to keep it sufficiently distracted from derailing your entire afternoon. Think of it as managing two very different, very slightly unhinged coworkers—except one lives in your head.<br />
- Schedule Strategically<br /> Monday is for big thinking, brainstorming, and urgent tasks. Friday is for micro-wins, finishing projects, and anything that can be completed while your brain fantasizes about cows, state fairs, or that mysterious canned ham jam. Avoid scheduling critical meetings on Friday; the probability of your brain wandering into existential pickle territory is extremely high.<br />
- Embrace Tangents (Within Reason)<br /> Friday brain will wander, and that’s okay. A tangent about gluten or artisanal cheese suppositories may not seem productive, but it’s how Friday brain recharges. Allow yourself five minutes of absurdity—then gently herd it back toward actual work before it sends your weekly report to a random stranger in Australia.<br />
- Tiny Wins Are Everything<br /> Never underestimate the morale boost from checking off a small task. Monday brain lives for checkmarks, Friday brain celebrates them like confetti. Even if it’s something minor—replying to one email, finishing a slide, or remembering to wear matching socks—it counts. Little victories remind both brains that you’re capable of survival.<br />
- Humor as a Survival Mechanism<br /> When Monday brain threatens to scream at your time management skills, or Friday brain starts theorizing about the emotional journey of a sandwich, laughter is your ally. Share a meme, write a silly note to yourself, or imagine your bosses as slightly confused raccoons. Humor diffuses tension, keeps your sanity intact, and sometimes even sparks creative thinking.<br />
- Know When to Walk Away<br /> Some days, your brains will both be wildly uncooperative. Monday brain might throw a spreadsheet tantrum while Friday brain is busy planning a mental road trip to the state fair. On these days, the best strategy is to step away. Stretch, grab a snack, stare at the ceiling, or even scream into a pillow. Temporary retreat can save hours of internal chaos and prevent accidental emails to your entire contact list.<br />
- Celebrate the End of the Week<br /> Friday brain lives for this moment: the sweet relief of closing the laptop, shutting down notifications, and knowing that survival has been achieved. Mark it with a small ritual—a favorite snack, a walk outside, or a dramatic slow clap for yourself. Both brains appreciate acknowledgment, and your weekend will be all the sweeter for it.
And while these tips and tricks will help you survive, they won’t protect you from the full spectrum of Monday and Friday brain shenanigans. There are days when no coffee, snack, or GIF can stop your brain from doing its thing: catastrophizing about missing socks, debating the metaphysical implications of canned ham jam, or randomly wondering if cows have a favorite state fair ride.
Which is why, dear reader, we must now venture into the real-life applications of these brains—what happens when Monday and Friday collide, when deadlines meet distractions, and when your professional self accidentally bumps into your absurdist inner world. Strap in: it’s going to be both educational and slightly ridiculous.
When Monday and Friday Brain Collide
Sometimes, the universe is cruel enough to let Monday and Friday brain coexist in the same 24-hour period. This is what I call the collision zone, a no-man’s-land where productivity and absurdity fight a very confusing duel, and your brain doesn’t know which way is up.
It often starts innocently: you’ve had a productive morning, checked a few items off your to-do list, and congratulated yourself for being a functional adult. Then, somewhere between 2:03 and 2:07 p.m., Friday brain shows up wearing a party hat, demanding a snack, and whispering, “Hey… do you ever think about state fairs and canned ham?”
Monday brain, of course, is not having it. It flares up like an overcaffeinated drill sergeant, reminding you of deadlines, pending emails, and the very specific format of that quarterly report. “You must finish this now!” it yells. “You cannot leave until you’ve double-checked every single detail, including font size and header alignment!”
Friday brain, however, is relentless. It sidles up, waving a metaphorical marshmallow on a stick, and insists that you absolutely need to watch one more “tiny cow riding a carousel” video before thinking about alignment. Suddenly, your brain is a tug-of-war: one part screaming about metrics and KPIs, the other contemplating the emotional life of a sandwich hurled from a moving vehicle.
The result is… not elegant. Emails might be sent with typos like “Please find attached the quarterly meow” or documents with entirely unexplained doodles in the margins. Meetings are attended half in Monday focus, half in Friday distraction: nodding while imagining a state fair petting zoo, for example, or mentally debating whether the gelatin in a canned ham qualifies as a liquid or solid.
Yet, amidst the chaos, there is a strange kind of magic. Collisions force creativity: you find solutions in weird ways, make connections you wouldn’t in pure Monday logic, and occasionally produce brilliant ideas while simultaneously laughing at the absurdity of your own thought patterns. It’s like turning a blender on high with one cup of organization and two cups of nonsense: the results are unpredictable, messy, and occasionally excellent.
If you survive the collision zone, you gain superpowers. You learn to multitask like a slightly deranged octopus. You can handle spreadsheets while composing imaginary dialogue between cows. You understand that the only thing worse than Monday brain is Monday brain with a side of Friday brain, and yet… somehow, you are still standing.
Tips for Navigating the Collision Zone
So you’ve survived the initial impact of Monday brain versus Friday brain, and now you find yourself wobbling through the Collision Zone. Fear not: there are strategies—some practical, some borderline ridiculous—that can help you navigate this chaos without accidentally emailing a coworker about your deep feelings for gelatin.
- Create Micro-Deadlines<br /> Both brains have very different needs. Monday brain wants structure; Friday brain wants fun. Give each brain its own tiny checkpoint: one task for Monday brain, one silly or low-stakes task for Friday brain. Reward Friday brain for cooperating—it might help you survive that last 90 minutes before quitting time.<br />
- Embrace the Power of Lists (and Snacks)<br /> A well-constructed list soothes Monday brain, while strategic snacks placate Friday brain. Consider it a peace treaty: Monday brain sees order, Friday brain sees peanut M&Ms. Both walk away happy… mostly.<br />
- Schedule a Brain Meeting<br /> Yes, literally pretend you are mediating a summit between the two brains. Ask Monday brain what it needs, then ask Friday brain what it wants. Sometimes, writing it down (“Monday brain, please handle reports; Friday brain, here’s a two-minute GIF break”) works wonders. Other times, it’s just entertaining. Either way, you’re playing referee in your own mind, and that counts for something.<br />
- Delegate Absurd Tasks<br /> When Friday brain insists on wandering, assign it a task that doesn’t hurt anyone—watch a video about goats on trampolines, sort your desktop icons by color, or invent a secret handshake for your office chair. Meanwhile, Monday brain handles the real work. Everyone wins, sort of.<br />
- Use Humor as a Shield<br /> When both brains are in full-blown conflict, laugh. Visualize Monday brain as a stern raccoon and Friday brain as a tiny llama in sunglasses. Humor doesn’t fix deadlines, but it prevents your collision from spiraling into full-blown existential despair.<br />
- Strategic Naps or “Mental Pauses”<br /> Sometimes the best way to reconcile these opposing forces is to step away. A 10-minute stretch, a walk, or a quick stare at the ceiling lets both brains cool down. You’ll return with a slightly clearer head—or at least enough energy to pretend you’re focused.<br />
- Celebrate Small Wins, Twice<br /> Monday brain appreciates the checkmark, Friday brain appreciates the confetti. Celebrate in layers: one mental fist pump for the structured success, one imaginary jazz hands for the chaotic joy. It’s a double victory that keeps both brains relatively satisfied.
With strategies in hand, you might feel prepared—like a slightly anxious lifeguard on the shores of your own brain. But let’s be honest: no matter how many lists, snacks, or llama visualizations you employ, the Collision Zone has a mind of its own.
And that, dear reader, is why we need to enter the Collision Zone Chronicles: a collection of true-ish stories, slightly exaggerated mishaps, and moments of existential absurdity that occur when Monday and Friday brain collide without warning. Consider this your warning label, survival guide, and comedy relief all in one.
Collision Zone Chronicles
1. The Email That Went Rogue<br /> It was a Tuesday. Or maybe a Friday. Who can really say? Anyway, Monday brain had me drafting a polite but firm email to a client about an overdue report. Friday brain, however, decided to intervene. Suddenly, the email included a lengthy parenthetical about how much I appreciate pineapple on pizza, a poetic aside about the emotional life of a stapler, and a footnote referencing a mysterious state fair incident. I hit “send” with pride, only to receive a reply that said: “I… don’t even know where to start. Are you okay?”
2. The Meeting That Became a Stand-Up Set<br /> During a virtual team meeting, Monday brain was diligently taking notes, nodding at bullet points, and thinking in spreadsheets. Friday brain, of course, had other plans. Midway through, I absentmindedly recounted an elaborate theory about why office chairs are secretly sentient, complete with sound effects. The team laughed politely, and I ended up getting a “Creative Thinker” badge in our Slack channel. Productivity? Questionable. Morale? High.
3. The Coffee Spill Incident<br /> You know that moment when you’re walking back from the break room, holding a coffee with Monday brain’s focus on your spreadsheet and Friday brain’s focus on whether cats have favorite fonts? Yeah, that one. The coffee went flying. Not just on my shirt—oh no—it landed precisely on my keyboard, shorting out my laptop and mysteriously emailing my boss a draft of a blog post that included an entire paragraph about the philosophical merits of canned ham. Chaos ensued. Lessons were learned. Coffee was mourned.
4. The Grocery Store Escape<br /> One Friday afternoon, Friday brain decided I absolutely needed to run to the grocery store. Monday brain insisted I should be budgeting my time and checking spreadsheets. Somehow, these two conflicting imperatives resulted in me hiding behind a pyramid of canned beans while contemplating the ethical implications of shopping carts. A kind stranger eventually convinced me to leave, but I swear the store’s manager is still talking about the “adult-sized cottage cheese incident.”
5. The Post-It Note Apocalypse<br /> To appease both brains, I once tried a compromise: a color-coded Post-It note system. Monday brain could track tasks; Friday brain could doodle absurdly. This seemed brilliant—until I realized the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in neon rectangles, each with increasingly ridiculous instructions like “Sing to the fax machine” and “Apologize to the stapler for last Tuesday.” Both brains were happy, but anyone entering the office assumed a small, chaotic cult had taken residence.
After surviving rogue emails, coffee catastrophes, sentient office supplies, and grocery-store hide-and-seek, it’s clear that Monday and Friday brain are not just opposites—they’re co-conspirators in the art of controlled chaos.
Navigating the Collision Zone is messy, unpredictable, and occasionally humiliating, but it’s also a reminder that we’re human, that humor is essential, and that sometimes the best work comes from embracing the absurd rather than resisting it.
So, as we reluctantly step out of the Collision Zone and back into reality, let’s take a deep breath, grab one last snack for Friday brain, and acknowledge that surviving the week—any week—is a small, delightful victory.
Summing Up
And so, dear reader, we emerge from the Collision Zone—not unscathed, not perfectly organized, but alive, caffeinated, and vaguely proud of ourselves. Monday brain may still be muttering about missed deadlines, Friday brain may already be planning its next dance with state fair metaphysics, and somewhere, a stapler may be filing a formal complaint.
But here’s the thing: surviving this weekly brain tango is an achievement worth celebrating. You’ve balanced chaos and order, productivity and whimsy, seriousness and nonsense, and maybe even sent an email that was accidentally brilliant. You’ve learned that lists can be lifesavers, snacks are negotiators, and laughter is a secret superpower that keeps both brains in check—mostly.
So go forth, my fellow brain survivors. Drink your coffee, eat your soy bacon (or real bacon, if Friday brain allows), and remember that life is richer when you allow a little absurdity to coexist with the to-do list. Because at the end of the week, it’s not just Friday—it’s your victory over the very weird, very wonderful collision of Monday and Friday brain.
