As I walk toward the train...

It's kind of a methaphor I guess when I say "as I walk to the train" Litterally and figuratively. I wake up in the morning about 7 am I lay there a for a good half hour, and with one eye half way open I reach for my inhaler, I give a good strong squeeze to let out the chemical spray that is going to open up my lungs like a new born baby taking his first breath of fresh air. I then grab for my brand new BlackBerry by this time my one eye is fully open and ready to get to work. Like a one eyed pirate I look to see that I have a TON of messages from last nights debauchery, and since I dont drink anymore and am focusing all my attention on school I have been missing out on all of the social events happening around town. So I make sure I let my social circle let me know whats going on, like a play by play in the last quarter of the Super Bowl. So and so fell with drink still in hand, So and so is making out with what's his name from that one movie and so on and so forth. I get a kick out of hearing all the goings on, its entertaining to hear it these days and not "be" it per se. I finally finish my last text message back to my friends and get up out of bed. In my own head I begin a ritual that is some what militaristic. I take a shower, put on my school uniform. My ugly Bob's Big Boy checkered pants, my heavy steel toe construction style kitchen shoes that are so heavy I can market them as weights for your legs and promote strength and agility and reverse the signs of atrophy in an age of indolence. I then roll up my freshly pressed neckerchief, put it on with care just like any lawyer or banker would, the "Windosor" yes, the Windsor knot. My crisp gleeming white chef coat shrouds my body as if I'm putting on my armor for a battle, or in this case a battle in the kitchen.

I look in the mirror and try and pep myself up to have a day filled with knowledge and give it my all, as I lean in the mirror I notice a slight indention near my right eye, almost crease looking. "Eh its a pillow mark" I thought. As I leaned in closer I began to unwrinkle the "crease" as if my face was an unironed shirt, as if my stretching out the wrinkle in my face was gonna smooth it out. To no avail, I take a deep breath and give up. That is no pillow wrinkle that is a natural, mother earth, ozone layer wrinkle. I quickly remember seeing a commercial on television selling this "wonder cream" the cream of all creams or should I say this fountain of youth in a bottle. I gave in and bought it for such an occasion. I knew one day this was going to happen; and it did. This was the moment I wasn't waiting for. I opened the small container with this magical potion of youth, creamy white and silky with a slight scent of ambrosia fruit salad, how a' propos I thought nectar of the gods. As in the commercial I used my ring finger, god forbid I use my index finger, the most used finger on the hand, the finger with the srongest muscles. I was told by what I like to call a "youth whore" (def: a person that is obsessed with being young and will go to great measures to stay young) to use my ring finger because its the least used finger on the hand, the muscles are undeveloped as if it was a tenderloin on a beef rack? I never thought of it that way? This one finger was supposed to place the cream on my face in such a gentle way as to not disrupt the cream and let it go to work. So here I am a 33 year old culinary student, ring finger in my face trying to stay young one morning at a time.

As I walk out the door to start my day I close the door behind me, as I like to see it, shutting my life behind me and taking one more step to becoming the culinarian I so longed to be. With my poor underdeveloped ring finger throbbing from the strenouous activity I had just put it through I put on my ear phones and turn on my "walkman" or as the kids call it these days the ipod. Such a funny little gadget the ipod? No need for lugging around tapes or CD's in a fanny pac anymore. Just "download" some songs on this device and away you go, any type of music at your fingertips! How novel.