Though it’s unseasonably warm today with the outdoor
temperatures rising to a minus five degrees my body, 'neath my heaviest winter parka, is still chilled to the bone.
A fellow busker has described the weather today as a Montreal kind of day.
Boot-leather guitar busking in such weather conditions, for
me, is challenging but possible. Sketch
and pencil portrait busking in such conditions is out of the question, definitely
outside the margins of common sense.
What to do, what to do, what to do.
To burn off some energy angst and winter fat, I’ve decided to lace my
skates and shoot the puck around on Wascana Lake. This, after I write this blog entry, of
course.
- RESOLVE
It’s coming up January end and I’ve not yet broken any of my
New Year’s resolutions. You know, the same
ol’ same ol’ get-skinny-get-writing phrases sworn to myself in
silence, but certainly never aloud and never through the looking glass.
People do not seem so surprised when I tell them this,
certainly not as surprised when I used to brag that I did all my graduate
studies maintaining an A+ average, while still working as a counsellor, coaching
men’s premier league soccer, and keeping up with my personal fitness regimen. Yikes!
How was all that possible wonder.
Factoid:
Anything is possible when you’re lying. (I stole and re-worked this gem off a poster I found when googling the
meaning of self-deprecating.)
Another factoid:
I did not make any New Year’s resolutions because I never made any
resolutions.
And yet another factoid: Had I made any such resolutions I’d still be
okay. I can’t get much skinnier (I need
to drop an impossible three pounds); I am always on the move (I run, I skate, I
lift weights, I kick box).
Just mentioning this will not make my dreams of being skinny come true. I do need to drop that
impossible ten pounds and yet … I had two muffins with my morning raspberry
cream pie flavor (DAVIDsTEA), and two
scoops of jambalaya, compliments of Campus Regina Public, for lunch. The rooibos tea was healthy – the jambalaya maybe
not so much.
A couple of paragraphs ago I proudly proclaimed that I’ve not
yet broken any of my New Year’s resolutions.
I did not mention my two lifetime resolutions. I omitted my long-time fancies of first being
a famous writer and, second, striving for quantum fitness. (True
confession: For me, quantum fitness is synonymous with six-pack abs. Whatever I write or whenever I speak about
fitness is always predicated on my vanity, my obsession for
wanting six-pack abs.)
- DISAPPOINTMENT
FACTOID: I AM DISAPPOINTED IN MYSELF.
Hmmm … famous writer.
My first foray into real writing was when I had a graduate
Psychology paper published as a book.
Until that time, I’d had scads of editorials published, and was paid little bucks for big book reviews as a freelancer. As a writer who is not famous I am disappointed in myself. As a creative writer I do have
scintillas of success. I am proud that I
pen original folk songs for my minstrel alterity, and I am proud that I pen this blog,
having a readership in 150 countries to date.
Hmmm … quantum fitness. My first foray into real fitness was when I
earned my double certification as a life guard and swimming instructor. After
that I became a long-distance runner (completing three marathons and dozens of
half marathons); after which I became a weight lifter (earning certification in
free weights and machine weight training); after which I became a student in
Muay Thai (a continuing interests in martial arts, having been a student of Karate in high school and again as a young
adulthood). After a lifetime of playing hockey in the indoor rinks, from wee-wee to senior to adult rec, I still love lacing my skates. Nowadays I prefer to do so in the winter winds blowing across the outdoor ice surfaces. Nowadays I finally realize that life need not be a race, or rather,
should not be a race. There is no Zen in racing. There is plenty of Zen in outdoor skating.
Factoid: Being not a
dull-wit I do know that to achieve quantum fitness I must jettison my
gluttonous habits. When I eat chips I eat lots of chips, and when I eat red licorice, I eat lots of red licorice. Although food addiction is not a classified
disorder, in my urge to munch junk I’ve statistically joined the 20% of the
population who also want to salt and sugar their faces. I’m a
binge-eater, and binge-eating really is a classified disorder. Though affecting more women than men, and
also being linked to depression, I am an outlier fitting neither category. I know all this and yet I feel
powerless. In this, and this alone, I am
accursed. I am disappointed in myself. (The
aliment to my salvation, I know, will be the Mediterranean diet.)
Here’s the skinny on being skinny as expressed by guitar god, Brian May (when
he was introducing the band, Def Leppard, into the Rock Hall of Fame): “If you want stay being a rock star, keep
your hair, and stay skinny.” When Brian expressed this, he received a roaring chorus of laughter in return.
Okay, Brian. Whether
or not I keep my hair will be determined by my genetics.
Whether or not I stay skinny (or become a
famous writer) is totally a decision for the fountainhead, ME,
just as the fountainhead of all your decisions, along with all your vanities
and obsessions, is YOU.
Skating in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week is my best friend,
COLBY WILLIAMS – PROFESSIONAL HOCKEY PLAYER WITH THE HERSHEY BEARS, who turns
25 years or 9,131 days old today!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COLBY!
(My blog entry today is finis and so it is time to lace up my
skates and head to the outdoor ice at Wascana Park. And by the way, those NHL Tacks pictured above, were given to me by my best friend, COLBY
WILLIAMS, right after his first main NHL camp with the Washington Capitals. I've written about Colby before, more than a few times in this blog. Three examples: COLBY SAVES CHRISTMAS: THE SILVER SKATES -- DECEMBER 21, 2014; DAYDREAM BELIEVER: WILLY GOES TO WASHINGTON -- JUNE 28, 2015; BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS: NOT WORTHY OR NOTEWORTHY -- JULY 22, 2017.)
