Boule
Today was an interesting day. My dad and me drove in to town to kill some time, and get a bite to eat. Good idea, I say to myself, gives me a chance to get out of the house, and not have to feel uncomfortable being home alone with only moms boyfriend. (He's not creepy or anything, it just doesn't feel comfortable.) So anyway, we drive in to town, park the car, and start walking downtown to wander around a bit and find somewhere to grab a bite to eat.
When we reach Kungstradgarden, there seems to be some kind event going on. Lots of people, big bleachers, a stage, and some beer tents. (I need to work on my descriptive prose, but I also need to sleep). There were also there jury-rigged wooden frames all over the ground with gravel in them. (Kungstradgarden doesn't normally have gravel, it has sandstone or somesuch).
It turns out that what we've unwittingly stumbled upon is the World Championships of Boule. (The French know this as petanque) Not only is it the world championships, but we're just in time to watch the reigning world champions France play the runners up form last year, Belgium.
Belgium starts out with a 3-0 lead (you play first to 13). The French make it 1-3, then 5-3 for the French. The Belgians seem to find it hard to keep up, even though they're playing very well. This round sees 10-3 for the French. Closing in on what seems to be the last around, the French have a 2-ball lead, with 3 balls left, and the Belgians are fresh out of balls (not those kinds of balls, I mean they did make it to the final or the world championships). This tips is for the Belgians, and they forfeit the game to the French, knowing that nothing short of a miracle can save them now.
The French go on to winning yet another championship (in a sport I think they invented).
They have an award ceremony, but very few stick around to watch it. We exit stage left, and hit the local TGIF.
We're sitting there with one New York Strip Steak a piece, and I make some snappy comment on something or other, how dining out turns really pretentious really fast probably, like I normally do in various situations (my wit with words clearly hasn't made its way in to written yet, as you can see). Dad thinks this is hilarious. He tells me about this idea that I've heard him mention on the side earlier, about how he thinks I should start writing these down. (A show about nothing, I tell you it's brilliant!)
I mean I may be funny when the opportunity presents itself, but I just don't see myself with a notebook scratching and scribbling every time I make a funny.
But what he said does hold some value, because I immediately thought about the fact that I sit here almost every night and write entries in this blog. So it appears that I am chronicling my life, just not the humorous snappy stuff. Maybe I should take some class in creative writing or something, because I really don't know where I'm going with this. I wish I had more of a mind to structure these entries, but then again, they are a log, not a novel. They are supposed to represent my thought, not unravel some sinister plot from the backalleys of some worn down city where the sky is always black, it always rains, and the characters spend more than their share of time in bars.
I wouldn't mind writing a novel though, it's just that I don't have any fictitious ideas to feed it with, nor do I have the skill required to get more than my closest friends to read it.
One of the reasons I started writing this blog was to prove to myself and to anyone who cared to know that my life wasn't as boring and monotonous as people thought. To prove that I actually do other things than site around my computer, write code and jerk of to women whose name ends in .JPG. Granted, I DO do these things, but they aren't the only things I do.
I may not be out treasure hunting or evading Nazis, but I do find ways of spending my time.
I think that if I added AdSense to this blog (see earlier post), then a lot of stuff about writing would show up. I realize that I criticize my own writing a lot, and I complain that I'm not a very good author, but I think that that might just increase the likelihood of writing-related ads showing up. Maybe I shouldn't complain. I know people who are far worse than me, but then again, there are oodles of people who kick my ass when it comes to prose. I'm rambling, I'll stop.
First day of work tomorrow. I'm meeting a lot of new people, and I have two weeks to learn the ropes around the systems that I'll be working on, it'll be great. Finally a proper job that'll get me some experience doing stuff that I like.
Speaking of work, I should probably go to sleep now, so I can wake up refreshed in the morning.
More on work later.
Markus out
When we reach Kungstradgarden, there seems to be some kind event going on. Lots of people, big bleachers, a stage, and some beer tents. (I need to work on my descriptive prose, but I also need to sleep). There were also there jury-rigged wooden frames all over the ground with gravel in them. (Kungstradgarden doesn't normally have gravel, it has sandstone or somesuch).
It turns out that what we've unwittingly stumbled upon is the World Championships of Boule. (The French know this as petanque) Not only is it the world championships, but we're just in time to watch the reigning world champions France play the runners up form last year, Belgium.
Belgium starts out with a 3-0 lead (you play first to 13). The French make it 1-3, then 5-3 for the French. The Belgians seem to find it hard to keep up, even though they're playing very well. This round sees 10-3 for the French. Closing in on what seems to be the last around, the French have a 2-ball lead, with 3 balls left, and the Belgians are fresh out of balls (not those kinds of balls, I mean they did make it to the final or the world championships). This tips is for the Belgians, and they forfeit the game to the French, knowing that nothing short of a miracle can save them now.
The French go on to winning yet another championship (in a sport I think they invented).
They have an award ceremony, but very few stick around to watch it. We exit stage left, and hit the local TGIF.
We're sitting there with one New York Strip Steak a piece, and I make some snappy comment on something or other, how dining out turns really pretentious really fast probably, like I normally do in various situations (my wit with words clearly hasn't made its way in to written yet, as you can see). Dad thinks this is hilarious. He tells me about this idea that I've heard him mention on the side earlier, about how he thinks I should start writing these down. (A show about nothing, I tell you it's brilliant!)
I mean I may be funny when the opportunity presents itself, but I just don't see myself with a notebook scratching and scribbling every time I make a funny.
But what he said does hold some value, because I immediately thought about the fact that I sit here almost every night and write entries in this blog. So it appears that I am chronicling my life, just not the humorous snappy stuff. Maybe I should take some class in creative writing or something, because I really don't know where I'm going with this. I wish I had more of a mind to structure these entries, but then again, they are a log, not a novel. They are supposed to represent my thought, not unravel some sinister plot from the backalleys of some worn down city where the sky is always black, it always rains, and the characters spend more than their share of time in bars.
I wouldn't mind writing a novel though, it's just that I don't have any fictitious ideas to feed it with, nor do I have the skill required to get more than my closest friends to read it.
One of the reasons I started writing this blog was to prove to myself and to anyone who cared to know that my life wasn't as boring and monotonous as people thought. To prove that I actually do other things than site around my computer, write code and jerk of to women whose name ends in .JPG. Granted, I DO do these things, but they aren't the only things I do.
I may not be out treasure hunting or evading Nazis, but I do find ways of spending my time.
I think that if I added AdSense to this blog (see earlier post), then a lot of stuff about writing would show up. I realize that I criticize my own writing a lot, and I complain that I'm not a very good author, but I think that that might just increase the likelihood of writing-related ads showing up. Maybe I shouldn't complain. I know people who are far worse than me, but then again, there are oodles of people who kick my ass when it comes to prose. I'm rambling, I'll stop.
First day of work tomorrow. I'm meeting a lot of new people, and I have two weeks to learn the ropes around the systems that I'll be working on, it'll be great. Finally a proper job that'll get me some experience doing stuff that I like.
Speaking of work, I should probably go to sleep now, so I can wake up refreshed in the morning.
More on work later.
Markus out
posted by Markus at
6/19/2005 11:48:00 PM
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