Random Thoughts

Okay, so it's been almost a year since I've had anything to say... rephrase: any time available to write, and anything worth saying. Anyone who knows me, will attest that I'm never short on words, it's whether those words are relevant to anyone but me. This may not be one of those times either, but I'm putting pen to paper (or rather keystrokes to monitor) anyway.

Many things have happened over the last year, and I'm not even sure if anyone ever reads the garbled mess that I spew out, but I find it therapeutic to jot things down. If you read it, and enjoy it, well that's great. If you read and don't like it, well that's great too, because it means you have your own thoughts, views, and opinions, and they aren't exactly the same as mine.

Back to the last year... let's see what has happened. The collar bone pretty much healed up, although the neglect of the medical community to recognize that they should repair broken collarbones, rather than to let them heal on their own still amazes me. In 90% of people, they will heal and never cause any issues. However, for the 10% of us that are active in competitive sport, and something as demanding on your upper extremities such as throwing, it causes a huge problem. My shoulder is rotated forward from it's natural position, causing everything else to be off kilter. As a pencil pusher, not an issue. As a softball player, I now have to "pre-load" my arm before throwing... which means I have to consciously pull back before throwing. This has reduced some accuracy and power in my throw, and I've basically had to learn how to throw all over again. Thanks Doc.

I decided I had too much free time on my hands (I was wrong, I'll say it now) and had spent far too many nights alone. I had always wanted to get a dog, and not just any dog, but a Doberman. You see, we had several when I was growing up, and there is just nothing more regal, intelligent, faithful, loving, and protective than a Dobie. So I set out to get one, and in September of last year I acquired my girl. "Ravalleses Diamonds R Forever" is her purebred name with the CKC (if you're wondering why it's "R" and not "Are" it's because pedigree names can only contain 30 characters and it wouldn't fit), but her call name is simply "Diamond". Seems fitting huh, that playing softball and spending most of my time around a baseball diamond, that I would get a faithful companion, and her name would be Diamond. See the irony?

Anyway, she is a gorgeous Black and Rust female, that I was lucky enough to fall in love with, and she adopted me. NO, if you think it is the other way, you're not a dog owner. We don't buy dogs, and we certainly don't choose them... they choose us. Never did I imagine that I was going to have a show dog either, but with the assistance... Ney, persistance of my breeder, I agreed to show her and attempt to get her Championship with the CKC. The first couple months were tough. Narrowly losing out, not getting any points, and no closer to the title of Champion. Then it clicked, she started to really settle in, and act like she owned the ring. She is now halfway to her Championship and still showing.

Which brings me to my next point. I'm outraged that lately there doesn't seem to be anywhere that you can take your dog, and just let them be a dog. Yes, she's a princess... and yes, I spoil her a little too much, but I still want her to play and be happy, and live a carefree life (outside of the show ring). The dog parks don't offer protection because there are irresponsible owners who don't look after their dogs, bring them to the park with canine diseases, and let their dogs transmit them to other dogs. Yes, it happens... they share a stick, a waterbowl, or god forbid they eat the grass the other dog peed on... I've had a few bouts with parasites that have been contracted from such places.

You can't trust the "doggie day care" places... I only have 1 I can take her to because she is an intact bitch. This sounds like harsh words, but they aren't. Intact simply means she has all her parts, and hasn't been spayed. Show dogs must be intact, or unaltered. Bitch, simply because it's the accepted term for a female dog. Anyway, I digress... She has caught different things at daycare as well, and also eaten things she wasn't supposed to, giving me quite a scare. Blockages in Dobies (well all dogs) are bad, and require surgery, and if not caught... can kill them.

That brings us to any area that you may want to have them off leash, that isn't a sanctioned "off leash" area. I did this with her, in a field, behind a school where she loves to chase geese. Relax PETA, she doesn't catch them... she can't fly yet, although she is damn fast. Some other woman a mile away, lets her male off leash and he runs ahead of her, out of site, into the field. My unsuspecting dog, who loves every dog, goes over to see and play with this dog... and he lunges and bites her throat. Ripping her open in 2 spots, and we're off to the vet for 8 staples, a shot of Pennicilin, anti-biotics, and twice a day scrubbings with ointment for the next 10 days. So... there is nowhere you can let your dog be a dog, unless you're in a caged area (baseball diamond) and alone, or surrounded by only dogs that you know have responsible owners.

Getting old!! I never thought that I would say those words, but as I approach 40 this year, and am eligible to play in the "Masters" Division (wow, it even sounds old) I find that I'm not 25 anymore. I move a little slower, and hurt a little longer. Recently I found myself having severe back pain. I went through spasms for a few days, hit up the Doctor, got pain meds and muscle relaxers to take the edge off, and saw my Chiropractor to get adjusted. All these things helped a little. I managed to get in and see my friend Paul (happy to call him a friend even if he couldn't fix me) who is also my RMT. Happy times ensued because I found out that Paul and his wife Heidi (happy to say I was there for the proposal on the wonderful beach in St. Maarten) are pregnant. They've been trying for some time, so it's nice to see this happen for them... and he's my age, so it still gives me hope. Anyway, back to the pain thing. I never thought I would ever say "you have great hands" to another man, but Paul really does. He's skilled in his craft and knows what he's doing. Likewise, I never thought I would hear a man softly say to me "You're going to feel a little tug" while his hands were running over my leg... a little disconcerting if you know what I mean.

So it turns out that I have what is called an "up slip"... explained to me as "the hip was 3/4" to 1" higher than it should have been, and rotated forward. Paul fixed it, put it back, and worked on the surrounding joints and muscles relieving the pain. The angry muscles in my back were still angry... well, now just slightly pissed off. He told me this would go away, and it was okay to go play ball. I thought he was kidding. We normally go through this ritual where he fixes me, tells me to stay off the ball diamond and heal, I go play anyway, and then I have to go get fixed again. This time he assured me it was good for the muscles to get exercised. For all those people that think that Massage Therapy is hocus pocus, or just a feel good thingy... you're wrong, or you don't have the right RMT. I don't get a rub down, I get fixed. No Happy Ending you say... I can walk today, I don't hurt, I was on a ball diamond yesterday, and today I'm smiling (without percocets)... that seems like a pretty happy ending to me.

Also, when I find a Master's team to play on this year... guess what? I'm now the young guy. The fast guy that they put in the field. The guy that they throw in to run, because the truly old guys can't anymore. Hey, maybe this is the Fountain of Youth. You don't have to be young... you just have to find something that makes you FEEL young.

That's about it for my rant today... I should get back to work as lunch is over.

Take me out to the ball game...

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Or should I say "Take me out of the ball game!"

So, if you know me, you know that I have a couple loves in my life. One is softball, and the other is sportbikes. Yeah, check the blog title... that might give something away.

So anyway, let's go back a week and a half.. hell, let's go back a month and a half. I was supposed to be going to Toronto with friends to play in the "Around the Clock Tournament" that is held every year at Skydome (ooops... the Roger's Centre). I have never been, but heard that it's a good time, and have always wanted to go. So I'm excited to say the least.

Then the message comes in from the "coach" of the team. It's like getting a letter from a company that you just interviewed with telling you that you're "a great candidate, but we have found other more experienced applicants" to work with. Or akin to the "Dear John" letter from your significant other telling you that they just don't think that it's going to work out... only this is worse. The message conveyed that while we were waiting for 1 person on the team to confirm that they would be there...we lost our spot. We were now on a waiting list for entry into the tournament. All this because one person couldn't decide if they wanted to play or not, or could get the time away from work... and now 11 other people lost their option to play.

Heartbreaking! That's the only way to describe it. So, I suck it up and accept that it wasn't meant to be... until
I get a call from my friend Lindsay... she is in Toronto at the Sky...er Roger's Centre and standing at the Registration counter. I answer "hello?" and she immediately replies "Can you make it to Toronto if I can get you on the roster?". I tell her that I have to clear some personal things, and some things at work and will let her know in 5 minutes.

Could this be true? It's like the call up to the "Bigs"... or the company telling you that you are their top pick... or the girl saying that she was wrong, and that you are the love of her life... Okay, so I embelish a little... but it's a great feeling.

I check with the boss (I have the greatest boss by the way) and knowing my love for softball, he says "yeah sure, get out of here... go!"

So I take off from work, head home and pack, and I'm on my way to Toronto, happy once again. Little did I know what was in store for me...

I get to the hotel and pull up to the front door where I am met by "Lindz" and the porter. He loads all my gear on the trolley, I toss him a sawbuck and they are off to the room, while I park the Blue Beast in the underground.

I get to the room and find out that there is 4 of us sharing a room with 1 king sized bed. No worries... I can deal, Hell, I'll sleep on the floor... "I'm just happy to be here and to play". Did I mention that I don't even know what position I'm playing? Again... seriously, I'm just happy to be here.

Our first game is at 8pm, but we head down a little early to watch some of the action, see some friends on other diamonds, and get warmed up.

Game Time: I'm ready, I'm happy, it's January... I'm playing baseball indoors wearing a T-shirt... life doesn't get much better right? I'm playing Left Field I'm told... and I normally don't like the outfield, but again, just happy to play and it doesn't even matter at this point.

We're home team, so we take the field. 1st batter grounds out...2nd flies out to short LC, and the 3rd flies out to me in Left. Off to the sticks... and guess what, I'm lead off batter. I don't normally like being lead off... there is a lot of pressure with that... but that's another story, and I'm happy to be here.

Step into the box, watch a pitch or two... the count is 2-1 and the next pitch looks good... I swing, I mishit and chop a grounder to the short stop... time to move your ass!! Running to 1st and almost there and it looks like I'm going to beat the throw... BUT WAIT... what happens? My turf shoes become one with the turf and I stumble... I'm falling forward and I can't stop it from happening. (Note: 6'6" 230 lbs is hard to stop once it has been accelerating for almost 50') Knowing that I am going to be thrown out, and seeing as I'm falling anyway... I reach for the bag with my left hand hoping that I make it, and not wanting to be the first out for my team...

I hit the ground hard... I think my hand beat the throw, but the umpire who hasn't come out from behind home is convinced otherwise, and I hear OUT!! as I'm hitting the ground... did I mention hard?

My right shoulder leaves a divot in the turf and I'm positive in the concrete underneath on impact, and I roll through this horrible display of athleticism and come up on the other side and get to my feet.

I step off to the side and "Lindz" who is coaching 1st chuckles and says "What the hell was that??"

I grunt.

She asks "Are you okay?"

I reply "No.... I don't think so!" as I move my shoulder and hear a distinct POP and CRACK!

Hobble over to the bench and wander... move my arm to see if I can shake it off, but it's not getting any better. First aid is called and it's a damn good thing that nobody is dying, because it took 20 minutes for them to show up.

The rent-a-medic does his best to cut my shirt, review the injury, provide a prognosis, ask me if I want an ambulance, and then slings me up (It was a poor sling, but I didn't feel the need to tell him this after teaching Emergency First Aid and CPR for 6 years, and being certified for the last 14).

I watch the rest of the game with a sling on, and the ice pack is my friend... and I listen to everyone speculate. It's just a strain, a sprain, dislocation... it couldn't be a break. Collarbones are painful and if you broke that... you would be in tears. Well, unless you have an abnormal pain tolerance...which I seem to have.

After the game, and in the hotel room, everyone is mulling about, but nobody really seems anxious to go to the hospital, and I'm messaging with friends on my trusty BlackBerry (shameless plug), and get told that they are taking me to the hospital.

Here is where the fun begins... Stephanie (an angel in her own right) and DP come and grab my gear and take me to the hospital. Not only do they take me, but they ruin their whole evening waiting at the hospital with me for over 5 hours.

I could go into great detail about the whole ordeal... but it would only set me off again. The end result is that there was only one nurse who seemed to give a damn about anyone in that hospital, and a 17 year old drunk kid that I got to spend a great deal of time with in the fracture area because he thought punching a steel pole was a good idea.

End result
Yup.. it's broken, and then some.

So, I get a prescription for percacets, a sling on my arm, and my guardians take me back to the Roger's centre.

I spend the rest of the weekend watching friends play ball, and wishing that I could have been on the field for more than one inning.

People at work see me in a sling and say "What did you do this time?" It's not this time... so I had a cast on my arm 2 years ago from a bike accident and the resulting surgery... it's not like I injure myself every week. (just every other one...)

Remember this... when my time comes, I will NOT show up at the pearly gates and hand St. Peter my body in pristine condition saying "Thank you for the use of this fine body... I would like my security deposit back now." I will slide in sideways, skidding and crashing into the gates, in a wreck of a body that won't be able to be used for spare parts, screaming "Yeehaw... that was one hell of a ride!! Where do you want this thing?" You can live your life from the comfort of the sidelines and never get injured, and never take chances, and never live... or you can risk it all and get in the game, effectively living this thing we call "Life" and let the chips fall where they may.

My boss says that I should take up something less damaging to my body... like knitting.... but thinks that even then, I may end up poking my eye out.

Shave and a haircut... 2 bits

Okay, so if you're old enough to know the expression... admit it, you just sang it in your head!!

If you don't know what I'm talking about... then you'll just have to Google it.

So back to the main thought. Where can you go in Kitchener Waterloo if you want to get a haircut and a shave? Now when I say haircut... I don't mean stylist. A barber and a stylist are two completely different things. Some subtle differences:

Barbers don't usually take appointments, you walk in and wait your turn for the next available chair, much like we do with evertyhing else in life... movies, restaurants, grocery stores, etc. Stylists require appointments, and usually well in advance. That doesn't work for the spontaneous crowd. Yes, make no mistake that by "spontaneous" I actually mean those who can't, won't, don't plan ahead and realize at the last minute that they have to get their hair cut. Yes, mostly men.

Barbers don't waste time washing and conditioning your hair before they cut it. Spray some water on it and get to business. Sytlists wash your hair, condition your hair, massage your scalp, make sure you have the products with Liang Liang in them, yada yada yada.

A barber's favourite tool is a pair of clippers, or several. A stylist lives to snip her scissors much like Johnny Depp in 'Edward Scissorhands".

Don't get me wrong here... I am not bashing stylists. I have had them and they do a wonderful job.. I am merely commending the age old practice of barbering.

Enter the Walper Barber Shop. A quaint little shop located in the Walper Hotel in downtown Kitchener at King and Queen St.

From the moment that you walk in the door, it brings back memories of travelling to Adolph's Barber Shop with my Dad when I was a kid for a "buzz cut". (Adolph's was in Kenora, ON by the way).

There are 4 chairs in the shop, and it's a long and narrow room... with high windows on the one edge looking out onto Queen St.

I have been here once before when my friend Brad had received a less than admirable attempt at a flat-top haircut, and we came here to try and have it "fixed".

Here is the heart of the story... to get a Flat-Top haircut, you really have to do your research. Lots of people, barbers and stylists alike, will say "Sure I can do a Flat-Top"... which is what the last guy said to Brad. He could not, and it was quite apparent after he started shaving away. I'm not going to lie to you, it was a little funny to watch, and to see the look on Brad's face (sorry B).

So back to the Walper... There are 4 barbers... 2 men, and 2 women. A woman Barber you ask... and to that I say Yes... 2 of them. Seems odd doesn't it... I mean women can't do that... they couldn't possibly be a barber, or a construction worker, or a judge, or a cop, or a hockey player... I think you get my point.

In order to understand this, let's see what Barber means:

bar⋅ber
–noun 1. a person whose occupation it is to cut and dress the hair of customers, esp. men, and to shave or trim the beard.

So... a barber is a person. Hmmm... not a man, a person. That should clear that up.

So, entering the shop, I am greeted by all the barbers: Linda, Robert, Sandra, and I think the other one's name is Johnny... but I'm not sure. His name is Johnny now though, well to me anyway.

It's Robert's turn to take the next customer, and I tell him that I'm looking for a Flat-Top, and I want the person who is the best at it... and I immediately get told "We're all great at a FlatTop". I proceed to tell him that I also want a straight-razor shave. He immediately says "Linda will take you".

You see... a straight-razor shave, or a "face shave" as Linda calls it, is a dying art among barbers. As I understand it The Health Commission stepped in some time ago and told barbers that this practice should be discontinued because you could potentially transmit disease and you're dealing with the potential to cut people and be exposed to their blood, and you could die, or be sued, or something like that. I'm not too sure because the last time that I heard the explanation of it, I was in Sault Ste. Marie getting a "face shave" done.

So, there aren't many places that you can find this anymore, and even in the places that do it, it's an art. Linda and Johnny are the only ones that do it in the Walper. Robert is thinking about getting back into it... but hasn't done it in a very long time.

The Flat-Top is first... and Linda is a perfectionist. She shaves the sides with a "0" guide and then asks me how short I want to go... I reply "Make me look like I'm leaving to go overseas to fight" and I chuckle. She starts with her trust clippers in hand and shaves, and clips, and shaves, and spins the chair and when I come back around and see in the mirror... I can't believe that this woman, er rather this barber, has evenly shaped my head in exactly what I've asked for. Save one spot that looks like a bulge out of the side of my head. Okay, it was a little spot that was missed... but I noticed it.

Most barbers or stylists would ask "how does it look?" and then try and fix what you tell them... not Linda! She moved the chair to and fro, and looked over the top of my head into the mirror... spun me again and buzz... nailed the spot that I noticed without me uttering a word. She then asked "Is that short enough... or should I take off more?"

What? An option? "Shorter would be great.", I replied to her... happy that she didn't make me look like a bald eagle and then ask if it was too short. Apparently Linda is also a carpenter... Measure twice and cut once, because if it's too short, no matter how many times you cut it after that... it will still be too short. (Another thing that B and I know too well)

I should also mention that as I look out the picturesque window, it is snowing heavily, and people are rushing by on their way to lunch, back to work, etc., and I am reminded of a Norman Rockwell painting... seriously.

So the Flat-Top is perfect and now on to the "Face Shave". It still makes me chuckle when I type that... I don't know why, it just does.

We start with a hot towel on the face to open the pores and soften the skin. Then she applies a healthy lather of shaving cream across my face, up to my ears, down on my neck.... oh wait, I forgot to mention that the barber chair has been reclined so that I am in a better position than most first class airline seats.

Next is another hot towel over the shaving cream to help the skin soak up the moisturizers. Then another batch of shaving cream and we are ready to get going. Linda is firm but gently in the way that she positions my head, and she is delicate with the straight razor even when it is perched near my carotid or my adam's apple. Not for a moment do I fear for my life... I'm actually trusting a strange woman that is holding a sharp instrument to my throat, and I'm not scared at all. This may have happened in the past once or twice... but that's another blog.

So after the first round of shaving... there is another applique of shaving cream, and what felt like a sharper razor being used.

Follow this with a cold towel to close the pores and provide some relief to sensitive skin (which I have)... but not without warning to you that "This is going to be cold... and I'm sorry but it needs to be done."

Following that, Linda starts rubbing something all over my face... I catch glimpses and it seems like it might be a chunk of deodorant stick (from the sight, not the feel or smell) and I ask what it is because I have never had this experience. It's tingly and it stings a little but I'm told it's an Alum stick. (I think that's what she said)... which makes sense because alum is a styptic or astringent, meaning that it causes organic tissue to contract. This causes the pores to close.

Next I am offered a choice of an alcohol pat or a moisturizing lotion. She explained that the moisturizer has to be rubbed in, so you get a mini face massage as well. I'm no chump, so I take the moisturizer and am asked if "cocoa butter" is okay with me. I started out at a Barber shop and now I'm at a mini-spa for men... this day is getting so much better.

My face is smoother than a baby's butt... my head looks like I just got drafted into the military... but better than a military barber could do, and I'm heading back to work feeling like a new man.

If you've never had this done... you need to, at least once in your life... but I'll almost guarantee that once you've done it, you will continue to want it. It's like anything in life we enjoy right?

Pop into the Walper and see Linda, Robert, Sandra, and Johnny... (still not sure if that's his name or not), you won't be disappointed at all... and you can save money, be treated like a man should be treated when he's getting his hair cut, and tell your wife that you're not going back to her stylist anymore!!

Haircut - $13.00
Shave - $13.00
Finding a barber that can do an amazing flat top and face shave - priceless

The greatest trick the devil ever played...

So it's been said that "The Greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn't exist." (re: "The Usual Suspects" 1994)

So what does this mean exactly? I interpret this as someone can be whatever they want to be, as long as they are continually deceiving you, and making you believe that they are not what they appear.

Deception. A nasty little word, with such a powerful meaning, and derived from the root 'deceive':

de⋅ceive 
1. to mislead by a false appearance or statement; delude: They deceived the enemy by disguising the destroyer as a freighter.
2. to be unfaithful to (one's spouse or lover).
3. Archaic. to while away (time).–verb (used without object)
4. to mislead or falsely persuade others; practice deceit: an engaging manner that easily deceives.

In short... Liar. We all have known people like this in our lives... or at least that's the perception. We all have the same retort though when we run into these people... "Karma will get even with them in the long run", or "Someday they will get the same in return".

Does it happen? Does Karma really exist? Do these people who quote these statements really know what they are saying?

Karma is defined as a person being rewarded or punished for good or bad deeds in the next incarnation, and comes from Hinduism or Buddhism.

KARMA: Theosophy. the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deeds in the previous incarnation.

Read that again people... in the NEXT incarnation. So if you believe in Karma, and expect that the person who treats old people and puppies poorly is going to get what's coming to them... don't wait on it, because you won't see it happen in your lifetime.

The fact is that you can do whatever you want in this lifetime, and according to Karma, you won't need to pay for it until the next one. Isn't that a chance that we would all be willing to take? That's like the bank manager telling you that you can have a $1 million dollar loan, and you may, or may not have to pay it back in your next lifetime. Oh, and the catch... in your next lifetime, you won't remember that you took out the loan, or what it was for, or what you spent it on.

Where do I sign up? I'll take those odds.

So back to the people that we know who deceive. They lie, they cheat, and there are many other less than admirable qualities we see in them, and they seem to get everything they want, without ever having to pay for it in the end.

I know one such person. She's beautiful, smart, funny, personable, charismatic, and the list goes on. What's the problem with her then you ask? All the qualities that she has, are also her biggest flaws. These qualities allow her to get whatever she wants, when she wants, at no cost to her.

Men flock to her and give her all the attention she could ever want. (I know, I was one of them). She is free to deceive, and lie, and omit things in order to keep getting what she wants, when she wants... and doesn't seem to ever have to pay the price for it. Again, Karma may exist, but no payment, and no interest charge until the next lifetime... so why wouldn't you.

So here is my issue. Good for you... you can lie to people, you can deceive people, you can omit the essential parts of any story that you want to, because after all... omission of the truth is not the same as lying right? If you don't actually tell people things, nobody can say that you lied to them... can they? Where is your issue... you ask? Here it is... It bothers me that people have to lie to those that they have called acquaintance, friend, lover, partner etc... I don't understand what has happened to truth and honour. I thought that if you cared about someone, you didn't lie to them... maybe I was just brought up with better morals and values. (Thanks Mom and Dad).

I think that the part that really makes my blood boil though is not the act of lying... but the way in which these people do it, and the fact that they think the rest of us are truly that stupid, or ignorant as to not know what is happening, or what they are doing. You see, when you put your life out there for people to see... guess what, they actually see it. So when you make comments, or statements and they incite questions... which you have to lie to cover, or avoid altogether so that you don't have to once again lie... it's very apparent. You don't fool anyone... and the worst part is that your "closest friends" (if you can call them that... because they are apparently lying to you) also see what you're doing.

So in the end... the only person that you're fooling is yourself into believing that you are getting away with something, and that your friends and family members are really that much "more stupider" than you.

However... good for you... if the definition of Karma is appropriate.. you won't have to pay back that debt for a long time.

So do I live with the theory that "the greatest trick the devil ever played is convincing the world he didn't exist"? No, not at all... I think the devil is only fooling themselves into believing that they've tricked everyone...

I prefer to follow "Better the devil you know... than the devil you don't".

To Blog or Not To Blog...

So... I stayed away from the world of blogging, much like I've stayed away from the world of track days as they relate to sportbike riding. My philosophy on both was pretty much the same.

I ride on the road and I ride for pleasure... albeit sometimes a little too fast (but never over the speed limit Occifer!!) and I'm aware of the obstacles and challenges that come with it. You never know when you will find roadkill around the next corner, the cavernous potholes left from a winter of snowplows doing their best to keep the roads snow free, children chasing stray balls out onto the road, etc.

This makes me aware of my surroundings, and able to adapt. So here is the philosophy knocking around in my head... if I were to go to the track, I can ride as fast as I want, on a controlled surface, without cars, debris, potholes, or the occassional aforementioned toddler running into the road. Sounds good right? Yes... crazy fast speed and no worries. Turn your brain off and become one with the bike and the road.

Here is the issue... you become numb to the obstacles and you expose yourself drastically when you get back to riding on the everyday streets with the people who either can't drive, don't see bikes, or any of the kabillion things that we've already discussed.

So, blogging... while a great way to put your thoughts to paper (or print for that matter) allowing you to get those feelings, thoughts, and emotions out of your head... also opens you up to other outside influences.

The blog is like the racetrack. No obstacles, controlled environment, do what you want kind of environment without the external influences... there are no contradictions, no debates over delicate subjects, no objections (unless comments are added after the fact).

So, throwing caution to the wind and using this as a therapeutic medium after seeing the positive affect it seems to be having on friends (thanks to Evil Genius) I have decided that I am in need of something in my life to vent said issues before I go crazy.

Is this an attempt to slander those that I know. Hardly!! Anyone that knows me would say that I am a private person, tough to read, and loyal to a fault. If you trust me with the most secret of secrets, you can be 99.9% sure that it will stay with me and go no further. Why 99.9% you say... and not the full monty? I always leave room for error... there are a multitude of things that could happen:

- I'm human. Something might pop out... I'm usually cognisant of this, but it could happen
- The information is going to critically injure someone that I am very close to, and weighed out... one person's safety and well being is greater than the oath of trust
- It turns out to be a lie anyway, and not worthy of protecting... and I like to expose liars for what they are (but not until I have 100% proof by the way)

So, the purpose of the blog, or the exercise of blogging is to clear my own head... knock the cobwebs out of the attic so to speak, and maybe along the line solicit advice from friends who are reading this because they too need some stimuli in their lives other than work, home, sleep, wash, rinse, repeat.

I've been told that I should seek help in the past.. okay, granted it was by bitter ex-girlfriends etc... but maybe they were on to something, or speaking from experience... in any event, I'm not the type of person who is going to lay on a couch with a shrink sitting beside me, glasses perched on the nose, and steno pad in hand asking "How does that make you feel?".

The only way that is happening is if she resembles Danielle Long and is wearing a poet's blouse, schoolgirl kilt, hair pulled back, and librarian glasses, and then... um, I digress.

So, barring the psycho-babble that costs hundreds of dollars per hour, and at the end of the day leaves my mind exhausted and my wallet empty... this may just be the venue to shove a sharp pointy instrument into the side of my head, and let the thoughts dribble out on to "paper", making room for more productive things to take up residency.

Okay, a little too descriptive maybe... but you get the point. So, let's see how this goes, and in future posts feel free to offer your comments, or thoughts, or simply join me on this magic carpet ride as a form of entertainment, a look into the person that is me (as I'm told I'm pretty guarded), or simply an explanation to justify the last time you said "Yeah, I knew he was nuts... now he's just proving it to everyone... finally!"