Long-johns, Garbage Mitts and Hockey Skates

I don't own a pair of sweatpants. I probably haven't for at least 20 years.

It's a crisp 3 degrees Celsius outside this morning so I have pulled out the winter Long-johns; traditional blue in colour, waffle design, and of-course, with that perplexing flap; designed for ease of bathroom use.

I can't remember a single time in my life where I have actually used that flap. Does any man out there really?

I still own a pair of garbage mitts. 

Outer-shell made of indestructible leather. Innards of some sort of matted fluff; off-colour and oddly scented. 

Years of sweat.

I pull my thumb out of it's lonely chamber to join the rest of my fingers in hidden desperation: Much needed warmth.

When garbage mitts get wet from snow or the spillage of hot-chocolate the leather quickly freezes, mutating them from their once pliable and soft state to a rock hard mannequin extension of my own arm.

The only way to get them back to their original form is to leave them overnight, positioned upright on a baseboard heater.

My old hockey skates rest on a shelf beside my toques.

I can't remember the last time they were sharpened, I can only remember the grinding metal sound the sharpener produces.

High frequency.

 I remember the hockey rink canteen; manned by a teenage volunteer who hands out 5 cent candies and frothy hot-chocolate served in a Styrofoam vessel.  Hot as hell for the first 3 minutes. 

Burnt tongue. 

Chocolate residue left on the corner of my lips.

To me, these are vital items in my survival gear for the season. 

I won't jet away to a "hot-spot" : half-assed attempt to avoid meeting Old-Man Winter. 

I know him well.

 We have met time and time again. 

37 years strong is our friendship.

I welcome his chilly embrace.

I don't own a pair of sweatpants. I probably never will.

I'll always have my Long-johns, garbage mitts and hockey skates.

Plain & Simple

All 

of

 life’s answers

 should come

from a simple

                                                 shake of the 

Magic 8 Ball.

TAR STEAM

On today’s commute to the concrete jungle of downtown mosquitoville I was forced to follow in the path of a steaming tar truck. It was hidden from my sight for the longest time. At first I thought that I was burning motor oil and prayed that my car wouldn't start to shudder and groan.

Arriving at work, I now feel light headed, and not the good kind of light headed.

Tar steam.

I now have Peter Gabriel on the brain.

My mind is slowly slipping into the gooey unknown.

I think I should take a trip via Via Rail.

Perhaps a journey out West, a former place I once called home. I miss the landscapes, wildlife and the dewy fresh air. I miss trampling though the bush, light headed from pitchers of golden goodness, singing at the top of my lungs, only to make the bears aware.

“Yogi, although you are beautiful, please stay off the trail.”

Head West young man.

Internet Searches for Entertainment not Reality

This struck me today, as I worked hard for the currency "needed" for what society dictates as "life"...

When it comes to personal finances ; whether it be the here & now, or planning for the future, people tend to shy away from researching the vast amounts of information that is available in our online world.

Perhaps I feel a tad bitter after hearing people take out their own personal frustrations at me all day.

It would be a wonderful tool to be able to tell people: 

"Between your Google self satisfaction searches, please take a few moments to Google what you really need to know. Be informed. You'll have less stress at the end of the day. You'll have knowledge. You'll have control over the #1 in your World: 

YOU

I am not saying that everyone is thinking they are #1.

 I am saying that in order to make others happy, comforted or loved, one must have those understandings with themselves first.

Do NOT avoid the unavoidable, it is there, always will be, and eventually will return.

Be informed, spend the time informing yourself.

Learning should never cease in life, not matter what the age.

As always and has to be,

I sit in front of my computer with a television "on" to my right hand side.

They are two separate Worlds

My computer and the internet is a way to escape the harsh reality of life

The television is always on either CBC News or CNN, at least for background noise, yet it's often not just background noise.

I battle between fact and fiction every single day

I search for a middle ground between the ugly and the beautiful

I'm not wise enough to be able to comprehend that those words:

Ugly

Beautiful

Are all just a state of mind

I' have often wondered how I could handle it if I had no sight...

I find it rude when someone says to me:

"You post a lot on Facebook."

There has been a few times that someone has randomly sent me a private message stating such.

Of-course I know how much I post, since it is me that is posting.

I do it for my own satisfaction, perhaps like an online exhibitionist, without the exhibition.

If someone gets it, then great.

If someone complains then it is pure simple.

Don't follow along? It's only a few clicks to stop that. 

Thank you for stopping by my new blog.

I have decided to start blogging as an opposite reflection of myself. 

Often on other forms of social media my posts, pictures etc. are of a humorous nature.

I plan to use this blog as a form of  communicating  "my other side."

I hope with blogging I can learn more about myself, share with you "the man behind the curtain", and hopefully provoke thought/reflection/ideas.

As those who have personally known "the real me" are aware;

I welcome the full spectrum of:

Understanding

"He's full of shit"

Kudos

Anger

There are many forms to my existence

There are many forms to my thought processes

This one, I blog out of pure

~mYoThErSeLf