transitionu

Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm

Category Archives: Relationship

Potty Mouth

Potty Mouth

When I saw this thing roll by it was difficult to take what I saw for real. Figured I couldn’t of seen it correctly. Followed it up and I saw it right.

I looked, I read, the words that came out of my mouth were not the words that were being said in my brain as I was in a public place. I did a recent piece about cursing. I do and the bit I do is mostly benign. If I forget something or make an error you’ll get an “oh shit” out of me. Who hasn’t let out a “Damn it!”?

One of the things it says on the splash down (no not a #2) screen is this, “helps you and your child learn the importance of taking regular potty breaks”.

This thing…. THIS THING!

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

Where do you even start with how fucked up this is?
Is this what it’s come to with parenting today?

Potty Time With Text

G.R. Hambley ©
September 16, 2017

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Fear and the Alligator Mouth

Fear and the Alligator Mouth

Fear, we all have it within. Fear, the fight or flight mechanism. Fear is good. Fear can keep you safe.

Making someone afraid is bad. Conducting yourself without fear, also bad.

Fear, the healthy respect, it’s eroding and there is good and bad in the erosion.

Unfortunately, one of the fears that is eroding is the fear of getting slapped or punched in the mouth.

It’s just simple physics y’all, action/reaction. Who’s to say the verbal slap isn’t equal to the physical slap? Qualification physics.

Read a few stories about cursing in the work place a few weeks back. The information didn’t surprise me in the least with the conduct I’ve seen over the last decade or so in less formal places. This would include the driver of the vehicle in the cursing incident I’m gonna tell you about.

A few links that’ll give you a jumping off point. All open in a new tab or window.

Who swears more at work, men or women?

Watch Your Mouth! More Women Swear at Work Than Men

Why people go @*@&@(*&! in the office

I witnessed a cursing incident. Wasn’t pleasant and I felt for the person who was in the passenger seat and had to listen to the broadcast. A captive audience to the diatribe of the driver.

I looked at the guy in the passenger seat, give him the palms up with shoulder shrug and look to the heavens with head shaking.

This is a Friday afternoon on hot sunny day in the core of Toronto during rush hour. It’s always tourist season in this city so factor that in too.

Mr Captive Audience returns my gestures. The driver is still dropping the “F” bombs in rapid succession.

Me and the guy, we’re still looking at each other while the driver carries on with the F Bomb Blues. I give him the “can you believe this, what’cha gonna do gesture” again and he gives it back to me.

Meanwhile people are stopping on the street, looking for where this Blue Bird of Unhappiness is chirping from.

Third time is the charm right? Well me and that guy, we go through the, “I don’t know, can you believe this shit” shrugging ritual again and, and, and the driver sees him do it.

Then I felt even worse, that poor, poor, bastard. The guy was gonna have to explain to the woman the “what the hell was that?” that she’d just seen. Right then a gap opens and she’s in to it and moving off, slowly.

As they move off to the east I’m left standing there watching them go and thinking, “Fare thee well you poor, poor, bastard”.

Girls have their RITES and so do guys. Only a guy can understand what is going to happen next. While men and women are the same species, maybe, we are vastly different creatures.

Completely oblivious to what’s going on around her. The guy is going to have to tell her the outburst was heard by a whole lot of people. He’s going to have to tell her he wasn’t real pleased to be a part of the centre of attention.

I could tell he didn’t condone the action and I’m hoping that little tidbit of information gets passed along to little Ms ME. No not “Medical Examiner and yes “Millennium Entitled”. Hey maybe it was a different inflated entitlement. Or just maybe, and as much as women like to protest they can’t be such a thing, (yeah they can) she was just an asshole.

I’m betting she’ll tell him, “I don’t fucking care”. Any takers? Just to be safe, that bet, it’s rhetorical.

It’s a whole lot different when a guy does it and it’s a woman in the passenger seat.

Now when a woman tells a man about his behaviour, he’s expected to be contrite and appreciative of the efforts that fine woman has made to show him the error of his ways. But if a man does the same, he’s insensitive for not being on her side. Doesn’t matter she was carrying on like a braying jackass. The guy is wrong and the woman is right.

Brings to mind using sex as a weapon and why guys will just shut the hell up or stick up. Sex as a weapon, that’s a sordid tale for another time.

Her outburst had to do with being late and not being able to move faster in rush hour traffic. She was held up. Her getting to where she had to go, her only consideration. She was about that close to a self-induced persecution complex.

Male or female, the ones running their alligator mouths are going to be the ones expecting their friends and family to auto back them.

The infamous “Hummingbird Ass”, there are more and more of them vocalizing every day because they do not fear. This is bad.

Backing them, you’ll probably have to do so one way or another because that “Alligator Mouth” overloaded what is most probably a “Hummingbird Ass”. Not going to take the chance on them getting reamed or hurt. Especially if you’re a guy, you got no choice but to stand up. Even if you’d like to take a strip off the asshole her yourself on this one, (with the accompanying head shake and eye roll) you gotta stand up.

Women are real good for calling guys on what they do. How about paying attention to and emulating what men don’t do instead of emulating what you think they do?

As always, I’ve talked to those of both sexes about what I see and what I think. The good people in my community are good enough to tell me what they see and think. A diverse bunch and I appreciate them all!

We talked about the lack of fear in personal deportment. Conduct if you prefer. Lessons imparted that help bad things not happen, too you.

Apparently, in this century, cursing is the new civility. Well maybe for women in the office, walking down the street and potty mouth groups heading for a potty break.

Angry is the new happy. Just like fear, anger can and does elicit the fight/flight response. Pretty much the same effect as an alligator mouth overloading a hummingbird ass. That response would be walk away or slap you fucking silly.

Not all slaps are physical. The verbal ones can hurt more than a physical slap and take much longer to heal, if at all. The verbal slap is quite likely to be more inviting to make response. And then it’s on and it’s ugly and no one needs it.

Within the confined quarters on an automobile, that cursing the world behaviour gets real old real fast.

Now we got a few kinds of abuse going on. Physical maybe, it’s emotional for sure and then there is abuse of the word. I detest the abuse of the word.

I trust you’ve had a look at the links I’ve included.

Women have got to start being accountable for what they do. Especially so when in an environment where they invented the current fucking language, the office. Women can’t be playing the, “Well men do it” card when they are the biggest offenders.

If you’ve read me some, you know as a certainty that I talk with the people in my community. Some of what we talk about is what we’ve seen, encountered, bypassed on the street.

Again, if you’ve read me you know I’m a smoker. I pop out for one and take in what’s going on around me. Sometimes I just pop out because moving around helps the thought process.

When the cursing is cascading down the street in 4 or 5 part disharmony, more often than not it is women.

The community standard, gratuitous cursing is unattractive and uncomfortable. The result is ostracising. Judicious cursing, can be effective and appreciated. Oddly, the community standard operates just that way.

I’m not going to pull a holier-than-thou televangelist routine and pretend I don’t curse because I do. I’m not going to lie to you and say when I curse it’s all for effect cuz it isn’t.

Thing is, and I get it, cursing derives from the word curse. Not many people seem to understand that and it is a shame, all they’re really accomplishing with the behaviour is putting a curse on themselves.

I’m a proponent of being able to use all the words. Simply, male or female, cursing as a regular part of your vocabulary, it isn’t attractive. I haven’t been real comfortable dropping the expletives in to this piece. There has been muttering under my breath which has included epithets.

Of course you are free to carry on as you like. While you’re carrying on, consider this.

With angry as the new happy, and people putting up with much less, one way or another, your alligator mouth could be on the receiving end of a well deserved slap and merit badge.

If you require further illumination, see rule 10.

G.R. Hambley ©
August 23, 2017

Older and Better

Older and Better

All he kept talking about was glory days.

I was thinking about this piece this morn and then Springsteen’s , “Glory Days” came on. Now that’s what I call a set your dial to write clue. “Good Friend” calls that summoning something else. Barely got any coffee in me, damn.

Many of us know one or two or three people that are like that. One of the best film portrayals of the “Glory Days” individual was by Dennis Hopper in “Hoosiers”.

You’re not getting older you’re getting better. A well known campaign with an affirming PSA touch by Clairol.

Once upon a time I was a member of the “Yea right” brigade as it applies to the “You’re not getting older you’re getting better” slogan.

Change of perspective, and it happened a good while back, changed the mindset.

Yes I’m old. We have statistical data for a reason and statistically, I’m in the last quarter of my life.

I’m adverse to dragging my old glory days out. Even writing it in this context where it’s actually useful, it doesn’t fit well with me.

You can find the following online and is an older posting. Which do you think I was…. Bear, Ram or Hawkeye?

CJFL
The Toronto area really needs to look at getting back into the Canadian Junior Football League (ages 19 to 22 years).  Back in the day there were at least three teams in the GTA.  The Lakeshore Bears playing out of Centennial Park in Etobicoke, the Scarborough Rams playing out of Birchmount Stadium, and the Oshawa Hawkeyes playing out of the Shwa.

Back then talented football players who couldn’t attend college or university because of grades, money or whatever reason had a place to keep playing a high level of football in Canada.  Back in the mid 70s the Scarborough Rams having winning records of 10 and 0 seasons along with the Ottawa Sooners, and the Hamilton Hurricanes could give any University ball club a run for their money. Bring Junior ball back to the GTA!!!!

I see in my research for this tale that the Ontario Football Conference in 2017 is again part of the CJFL. Toronto is represented by the GTA Grizzlies.

So yeah, I had some Football glory days. Last one I signed, it was with Junior Argonauts. I’m pretty sure you can figure out the affiliation.

I remember it well. A weekend in mid March colder than a witch’s…., down at old CNE Stadium (I could tell you where to find pieces of CNE Stadium today but that’s a story for another time). Wind was blowing in through that gap between the 3rd base line and the North Grandstand.

Bulova Tower

The Bulova Clock Tower which used to be the Shell Tower was stuck at a balmy -6 C. Fun Wow!

There is an eeriness to an empty stadium. It’s both a bit haunting and really thrilling looking around all the empty seats when you’re down playing on the field. Visualization is an important tool and yes I envisioned 55,000 people cheering for me.

If the witch image isn’t working for you, try going with, “Brass Monkey”. Equality friends, equality, something for everyone.

I do appreciate why football players bitched about that outfield fence seam on the CNE gridiron! You hit that seam the wrong way, hey what’s a new ankle or knee between friends! Back then they had, “Turf Gripper” footwear. All those things did was make it easier for the “Turf Monster” to get you!

CNE Getty Images

I’m old. This is a fact. Using our measuring sticks, ¾ of my life is over, I’m old.

I had a brief conversation some months back with one of the people in my community I’m friendly with. You don’t need the entire context. What I told the individual is this, at this point in my life, if I want a story I write one. If I want a pretty picture, I make one.

Community friend was not made aware of what is in my past. I’d love see the face of community friend when they’re reading this piece.

I’m a far better writer, photographer, artist than I ever was a football player. We’ve already established, I was a good football player.

How wonderful is it to be able to do those things? How much better is this legacy of art? Sure, those questions are debatable, debatable to everyone but me that is and it is all about me.

To sit down and create. To be seen and read in 103 countries around the world. Now that is one glorious ego stroke. I worked and pushed out, I earned it.

My top 5 countries in order of viewership:

  • USA
  • Canada
  • India
  • South Africa
  • Italy

Number 1 and 2 aren’t a surprise. Those two should be where they are. Now number 3, if you know what I am now and what I espouse, it isn’t a great surprise.

When comparing numbers between Canada and the USA, Canada has about 10% of the people that the USA does. When I look at the stats I’d kind of expect to see the same ratio of 10 to 1. It’s about 5 to 1 and that pleases me.

“Far have I travelled and much have I seen”, Mull Of Kintyre. I don’t have your miles on me but hey, thank you Sir Paul!

What I’ve become is much better and far more powerful. I grew stronger and better. As I grew, I touched others significantly. I’ve met some real outstanding individuals and made a couple lifelong friends. To my mind, that’s the glory.

It isn’t all one way. I have been significantly touched myself. This makes me stronger, it makes me better.

“Carry me back to the days I knew then”, thank you, no. I have mulled it over and I have no desire to return.

Yeah, I’m older and I’m better. I’m worse too, the physical thing. I have that aspect of my life under control. It’s a non issue in the older/better sense.

The better not older campaign was aimed at the preoccupation with aging and death. That preoccupation is still with us. If you can give someone something they can rationalize a condition with, they just may.

If quarterbacking from the armchair and reliving whatever your “Glory Days” were and are, you can. Being the intelligent donkey I am, I’d say enjoy your retirement!

I’m telling you, if stronger and better is what you want to have as you move through life, then you gotta be engaged in life. Why? Why because that’s how it works.

When people tell you that your style or something you’ve done reminds them of the greatest of dead poets, you know you’ve achieved your goal of someday being one of them.

Try wrapping your head around this one. I knew it when I first started writing poetry. Monetary returns, never a real concern. I write for me and share. I happen to think some of my stuff is gonna live forever.

I don’t expect to realize the full glory until 150 years after I’m dead.

No, no, no, don’t fret for me!

I will be checking back to see if I’m correct. What!? You don’t think someone as glorious as I wouldn’t be able to check back and see what y’all are up to. Not a question.

G.R. Hambley ©
July 31st, 2017

Curios

Curios

Curios

Curios

Mine is mine and to each their own
so whom are we to pass judgement

One’s choices predicated upon
by how you my dear individual perceive

Reapers, the purveyors of goods grim
honouring both dollar and ritual

But just because you can
does it mean you should indulge the macabre

Incendiary with a highly volatile fuse
fostering unspoken mortification

Done from love by loss
as inherently personal as love’s little death

Memories tactile, both taking away
and in embracing the pain

Open wide to holding up a mirror
reflection upon your hurting self

Morbid, magnificent, maudlin, majestic
what else could be said of selections such

Each and every with their unique curio
memory memorabilia a curious thing

Nature ‘tis of we mournful beasts
displaying in so many ways

Turning cheek, both other and off if you please
my crass, your cats ass

One tap, two tap, three, forever remains in me

G.R. Hambley ©
June 01, 2017

I made an error in formatting on the original post. The error is now corrected. The poetry has not changed.

A Marine Passes

A Marine Passes

At 1:58 am on 15 May, 2017 an American Marine passed on. To some that man was and will always be, more than a Marine.

Being a United States Marine didn’t define what the man was. Being a Marine was a part of what made up the whole man.

The man had a tough go before the irony that is the illness that eventually took his life got him. Irony in abundance. He fought the good fight with dignity and grace. Never gave up. I’m sure he thought of it as we all would in that situation. He carried on out of a love of life and family. The duty he believed was owed to himself and his family.

No one would have faulted him had he chose to move along to the next plain of his own volition. He endured that much. He cared that much to soldier on.

This man was given the last rites in Vietnam. He was subjected to derision at the very least for having gone to Vietnam when he returned home. He came home with issues and worked on those issues.

Much later on in life, he was stricken with cancer and the belief is that “Agent Orange” was the culprit. There’s your irony. It took his own country to do what the enemy couldn’t.

A number of years ago that man and I were out somewhere when I was down in Rhode Island working out some of my own issues. I do remember it was winter and damn cold.

We were walking up to the door after getting home and I asked him, “Knowing what you know, would you do it again”. This is one of those you had to be there moments. The man knew my question didn’t come out of anything but interest in how he felt and what he thought.

“Knowing what you know, would you do it again” and the reply was, “My country called”.

Not another word was spoken between us. We both knew and understood what was in the answer.

Three words made up a “you had to be there” moment. I cannot convey everything that was in those three words. You had to see the man when he said, “My country called”. I could tell you about it so you could see and understand. I can’t write what I saw that day because no amount of words is going to be able to describe that moment properly.

I spoke of that moment a couple times with people in conversation because it fit with what we were talking about. I never told anyone about this encounter that is close to the man. The conversation was between him and me and except for those few instances, that is where it stayed.

Toughest man I ever knew. One of the best men I’ve ever known too.

Semper Fi, definitely. Character, absolutely.

Francis “Frank” Connors is survived by my cousin Karen, son Eli, daughters Shannon, Sandra and Michelle. Grandchildren, more family, others who love him and by what is now, a grateful nation.

Gary Hambley, May 15, 2017

Community; Mine

Community; Mine

Souls old, souls new, souls lost, some hoping desperately to be found
Philosophers, perambulators and pals, the odd sniff of pretention
Hims and hers, some that are, quite honestly, deeply confused
Every face, should you care, bringing a unique study in story

Retro and metro, and for others, the splendour that is sartorial
Eye on a passing thigh and my oh my is that Rebel Circus I spy
Open minds, open hearts, open conversations and well who knew
Faces from faraway places, happily in a space that has no races

Accountants, Aides to Teaching, but if you can’t say without preaching
Cups of coffee, gallons of conversation and Sugar when it’s Psunday*
Quips and quills, more than a few spills, splotches of great delusion
Untold stories, stories shared, stories that will be woven by me

Aged, ageless, those just beginning to write their journey for the ages
In they tromp, costumed and not, cute as buttons, kids enjoying theatre
New ones in 21st century jolly jumpers, jump dad jump, gee thanks mom
Thespians, orators, of both the professional and amateur ranks rant

As life goes on all around you, yours for the sharing, it’s no illusion
Names and faces, you come to know, as you do enjoyment grows
Contacts, connections, conversations in confidence, all do ensue
Elves wearing bells bearing versions of coffee, catch me one if you can

G.R. Hambley ©
May 09, 2017

Heartless – Lyric

Heartless

Lyric

It begins again in confusion
Some kind of grand illusion
Where it ends there’s no real telling
It’ll come without warning
I’ll be gone
leaving you quietly wondering
So why we starting this story?

It carries on in its fashion
Some nights of grand passion
When it ends there’s no real telling
It’ll come some morning
I’ll be gone
leaving you quietly crying
So why we turning this page?

It fails with a head on collision
Some words of persuasion
Why it ends is because it’s suffocating
It’ll come without you ever believing
I’ll be gone
leaving you quietly hating
So why we playing this romance novel?

I’m gone and… you’re crying
I’m gone and… you’re wondering
I’m gone and… you’re hating
I’m gone and… you had the heartless warning

G.R. Hambley ©
May 05, 2017

Left Unsaid

Left Unsaid

Whispers and rustles making the rounds
Sighs and gasps the disbelieving sounds
It’s between us, no one must, couldn’t ever be us

Now we’ve got these suspicious fears with tears
After silently wanting you for so many years
Finding us was a must, we can still be us

Your face burning red, filling me with dread
For everyone’s best, keep it all left unsaid
Now look it’s gone to dust and it can still be us

          Minute after minute, hour after hour, time after time
          Behind that door where the ridiculous goes to sublime

Whispers and hints of tryst year round
Sighs and love gasps your sleep sounds
This stays between us, no one must, it’s about only us

Now we’ve got no suspicion, only your tears with fears
After silently watching you two all these years
Finding out was a must, you two will have no us

Your mouth running red, didn’t matter that you pled
For everyone’s best, keep it all left unsaid
Now look at all that rust, one word and you’re dust

          Behind that door where the ridiculous went to crime
          Minute after minute, hour after hour, cry after cry

You don’t even know that you’ve already died

G.R. Hambley ©
April 24, 2017

Once Bitten – Lyric

Once Bitten

Lyric

We were young and oh so cool
Back when we were all fools
Feelin’ our way around

Always full of dissension
Lookin’ to cut the oppression
Trying to figure it all out

Everything going so fast
Wondered if some would last
Short days and shorter nights

          And you know, oh you know, if you go
                   once bitten, you’ll never be the same

Parties on the Bluffs
No one ever playin’ tough
That hundred step drop

Fire by the water’s edge
A step out on the ledge
Going hope and a prayer

Walking hip to hip
Hoping for some lips
In to the rising moon

          And you know, oh you know, when you go
                   once bitten, you’ll never be the same

Off in our own little place
Left the others to the case
The tenderness in caress

Those words so softly spoken
Promises not to be broken
Skipping stones and hearts

Waves lapping all around
Night winding its way down
Sailing on the first kiss

          And you know, oh you know, that you fell
                   now bitten, you’ll never be sane
                             once bitten, never the same

G.R. Hambley ©
April 12, 2017

The Hundred Steps Toronto early 1900’s

Water Works East End … another way down

Lake Side – Lyric

Lake Side

Lyric

Day dreaming out on the rocks
sun setting the lake ablaze
all but gone the hostage daze
letting down all the blocks

Seeing everything and nothing
heard the call in a lonely tune
made my way through to you
got me some lake side musing

Loving this quiet romance
clouds giving your faces frames
looking like it’s gonna rain
hoping it does so you’ll dance

          ~ Thinkin’ ‘bout desires ~
                   ~ watching my baby walk ~
                             ~ listening to my baby talk ~
                                      ~ lightin’ up all my fires ~

Music drifting across the water
a familiar two part fantasy
so far away from the disarray
beauty of the night getting closer

Clouds going from dry to cry
more than a small temptation
way beyond some infatuation
tears just to make you smile

Three part harmony on the dance floor
you, me, and the drops of rain
don’t know who was first to sing
love me…, love me……, make me yours

          ~ Thinkin’ ‘bout your fire ~
                   ~ watching my baby walk ~
                             ~ listening to my baby talk ~
                                      ~ lightin’ up all your desire ~

G.R. Hambley ©
March 25, 2017