It's been an A- type of day...

I love hockey.
I love the feel of ice under my blades, cleaving in two under my force. I love the feeling of wind on my face. I love the sound the ice makes as I glide along. I love the effortlessness of it, like walking or breathing. The feel of a stick in my hands; puck dancing along the ice at the slightest difference in pressure, is one I will cherish forever. The core of hockey is the heart of the people who play it. The people who love it.
I can't wait for winter. Crispy, sunny days when the world is white is what I pine for.
Hockey, winter...they're in my blood. Deeper than I had ever suspected. Integral to my definition of the world, my definition of myself.
Hockey has shaped my view of the world. In a way, it is an idealized world. Wrong-doers are punished, hard work rewarded, and fraternity and loyalty celebrated.
Winter has done much the same. Only the hardy survive winter. The change in seasons too, defines what a year is for me.

I wrote this last year, around this time, and promptly never bothered to look at it again. I read it again last night and think some parts of it are worth salvaging, but on the whole it seems garbled to me.

Blunt

"You don't deserve this anymore"
She yelled at the side of my face,
"I disagree" I said, as I walked on
She always felt a little out of place.

Her look was a little strange,
Too much here,
Not enough there,
And everyone always noticed
That nothing ever changed.

The best defence is a good offence,
or was it...
The best offence is a better defence?
Either way, you win.

You are the most offensive,
And always have the best defence-
Society Sucks! and so do you,
Every other male you've met.

What I am to you is not real,
The fabric of this friendship
Was worn a little thin
But no patches were applied...

Just pressure.

-Jessica Leigh Nov. 2006

~last night i saw the fireworks, the kind of pain that never hurts, the one you hate to love, who's made for you, another unsuspecting sunday afternoon...~