I've always considered myself a sports guy. Growing up I played baseball, soccer, and basketball. I always participated in gym class, playing football, floor hockey and even more basketball. But there was one sport that I never played.
Golf.
I just never got into it. I tried watching it on TV with my uncle one time and I was out cold. Watching a movie like Happy Gilmore made golf better, but it was just a movie. There were no players that acted like Adam Sandler, throwing his golf club, starting fights with the other players or swearing up a storm when the golf ball didn't go in the hole. I enjoyed playing mini-golf or golf on PlayStation or Wii, but there were things to entertain me while I was playing.
But that all changed this past weekend. For the first time ever, I played real golf. I went with three of my friends, all of who played golf before. My two friends, Craig and Jon, looked like pros compared to me. They have their own set of golf clubs and try to go as much as they can while the good weather is around. Craig's fiancée, Lee-Ann, hadn't played in over a year, which I was very grateful for. I could tell she was rusty because she kept showing signs of greatness. If this was a movie, Lee-Ann would of filled the semi-pro role. Where I would of fit in would of been the role of Happy Gilmore type of character, just with no skill, but all of the swearing.
I was good at driving the carts around, but the actual hitting the ball, not so much. My buddies gave me pointers as much as possible. But like they said, the only way to get better was to keep on playing and doing it more than once. By the end of the day, I was doing a little better than when I started. But will I keep playing, I am not sure, but I could practice on PlayStation.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Texting is the way
Her flowing red hair had changed. It was now as white as snow. Her face had aged. Where the smooth silky skin once was, there was now wrinkle upon wrinkle. No one noticed the change in her appearance. How could they, they hadn't seen her face look up from the screen of her cell phone in a very long time.
Where ever she went, her phone was in hand. At first, her addiction wasn't noticeable, but as time went on, the blue light of the screen became a permanent fixture covering her face. Whenever someone would walk up to her, in the beginning she would acknowledge them, but as time wore on, the conversations on the phone took priority over any actual person to person interaction.
As time passed, she became more and more distant from people. All she cared about was the people she would talk to on her cell phone. If someone wanted to talk to her, they had to text her. She didn't even take phone calls. All she responded to were text messages.
Her cell phone consumed her life. They became one. The phone and her. Days became nights and Nights became days. Then those days turns into weeks and she became more and more consumed by the blue of the phone.
Those weeks turned into years. People gave up on trying to get her away from her phone. Some even gave up on her, moving on with their lives, except one guy. Each day, as she texted away, he would go and sit with her. He would try to talk with her, telling her about his day at work and the events from the day. As he sat there, he hoped and wished for the girl to look up from her phone to even show some acknowledgement that he was sitting there with her. There was even another woman who tried to lure the guy away from the girl, but he loved the girl so much he couldn't see himself with any other woman. So there he sat, day in and day out, talking to this lifeless soul, hoping she was show him the same love.
The guy died. Age had set it. But many believed that his heart had finally quit on him. All that time he spent with the girl, she never once said a word to him. As his time grew near, he started to second his decision about the other woman. He thought to himself, he should of spent time with the other woman, but he didn't. Love had blinded him.
The girl had finally gotten old. Her texting ability had slowed, her eye sight had grown weak from the blue of the phone. Then one evening, the phone died and she finally looked up from her phone, scanning the room she was in. She saw that the room was in darkness. The only light was coming from the moonlight as it shot through the window. No one was in the room. She realized then that she was all alone. The conversations and people she talked to really didn't mean anything.
Then she closed her eyes, as one single tear ran down her cheek. Then she was asleep. Like her phone, she was dead.
Where ever she went, her phone was in hand. At first, her addiction wasn't noticeable, but as time went on, the blue light of the screen became a permanent fixture covering her face. Whenever someone would walk up to her, in the beginning she would acknowledge them, but as time wore on, the conversations on the phone took priority over any actual person to person interaction.As time passed, she became more and more distant from people. All she cared about was the people she would talk to on her cell phone. If someone wanted to talk to her, they had to text her. She didn't even take phone calls. All she responded to were text messages.
Her cell phone consumed her life. They became one. The phone and her. Days became nights and Nights became days. Then those days turns into weeks and she became more and more consumed by the blue of the phone.
Those weeks turned into years. People gave up on trying to get her away from her phone. Some even gave up on her, moving on with their lives, except one guy. Each day, as she texted away, he would go and sit with her. He would try to talk with her, telling her about his day at work and the events from the day. As he sat there, he hoped and wished for the girl to look up from her phone to even show some acknowledgement that he was sitting there with her. There was even another woman who tried to lure the guy away from the girl, but he loved the girl so much he couldn't see himself with any other woman. So there he sat, day in and day out, talking to this lifeless soul, hoping she was show him the same love.
The guy died. Age had set it. But many believed that his heart had finally quit on him. All that time he spent with the girl, she never once said a word to him. As his time grew near, he started to second his decision about the other woman. He thought to himself, he should of spent time with the other woman, but he didn't. Love had blinded him.
The girl had finally gotten old. Her texting ability had slowed, her eye sight had grown weak from the blue of the phone. Then one evening, the phone died and she finally looked up from her phone, scanning the room she was in. She saw that the room was in darkness. The only light was coming from the moonlight as it shot through the window. No one was in the room. She realized then that she was all alone. The conversations and people she talked to really didn't mean anything.
Then she closed her eyes, as one single tear ran down her cheek. Then she was asleep. Like her phone, she was dead.
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