Today was very difficult, for a reason I will not disclose here. But I am hoping that this will be the start of wonderful things.
I've had enough. I've decided that I will no longer hold myself back, and that I will look out for myself first. The closer someone is to me, the more I will look out for them. If they don't affect me, I will no longer care for them. I've been caring about so many people that could care less about me that I've never learned to take care of myself. And those days are now over.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Better
My bowling game returned to its higher level last night. It wasn't perfect, as I still missed a couple of makeable spares, but I was perfect on the 10 and 6-10 conversions. We took on a team that had a better record than their average would profess, and they did beat us narrowly in the first game, but we took the other two and the series.
My scores? 213-183-188. I can definitely live with that. I tried not to think too much about my game, but I know that I was staying "within myself" most of the night. I remembered to loft the ball, which gave me more break and maybe a little more power. Early on, when there was more oil, I was able to bowl at a comfortable, not-so-hard velocity, and it got to the pocket nicely. Later, I was putting a little more zip on it easily done by holding the ball a little higher at the beginning of the backswing, to account for the oil being spread out and the lane breaking more. Along with moving two boards to the left, I was still able to do well, albeit a little less consistently. But hey, when your low game is a 183, you're bowling quite nicely. A 195 average? Hell yeah!
I didn't print out my games, but I think there were only 1-2 frames where I left makeable spares. One was a 2-4 or a 4-7, where I went a little too far left and just barely missed the lead pin. I don't remember the other. I know I made a 3-10 baby split. It was a very good night of bowling, and though I want to get back out there ASAP, I have a busy day ahead of me.
My scores? 213-183-188. I can definitely live with that. I tried not to think too much about my game, but I know that I was staying "within myself" most of the night. I remembered to loft the ball, which gave me more break and maybe a little more power. Early on, when there was more oil, I was able to bowl at a comfortable, not-so-hard velocity, and it got to the pocket nicely. Later, I was putting a little more zip on it easily done by holding the ball a little higher at the beginning of the backswing, to account for the oil being spread out and the lane breaking more. Along with moving two boards to the left, I was still able to do well, albeit a little less consistently. But hey, when your low game is a 183, you're bowling quite nicely. A 195 average? Hell yeah!
I didn't print out my games, but I think there were only 1-2 frames where I left makeable spares. One was a 2-4 or a 4-7, where I went a little too far left and just barely missed the lead pin. I don't remember the other. I know I made a 3-10 baby split. It was a very good night of bowling, and though I want to get back out there ASAP, I have a busy day ahead of me.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The cowboy way ain't the right way
Margie and I are huge fans of the BFTS (Built Ford Tough Series), the highest level of the PBR (Professional Bull Riding). It's surprisingly addictive.
I first started watching it when we lived in a small apartment in Illinois, in the middle of our worst year together. We got along great, but the world seemed against us. We were both miserable in our jobs. Margie had a new boss who unreasonably claimed that she'd soon be fired, despite her great reviews. She's have to stand and wait for a bus to take her to a crowded train that would often leave just before the bus got her there. She once stood outside in 25-below temperatures, waiting for a bus that was late. Standing there with a back that was getting so bad that it required major surgery. For me, I had a comfortable commute, but I still cried half the days I worked at this particular high school that ended up cutting my job at the end of the year. Back then, it was so comforting to curl up on the couch, under our unicorn blanket, watching guys like Ryan Dirteater getting thrown around the ring by these massive bulls.
I think we caught every showing last season. This year, they're on more channels with a haphazard schedule, and some of the events aren't on TV at all, but on pbr.com instead. Stinks to be other people who don't get some of the other channels, but I digress.
What I want to discuss here is the dominance of the Brazilian riders. Last year, five Brazilians set atop the final standings. Valdiron de Oliveira, known for riding a very high percentages of bulls, led for most of the year but was overtaken by youngster Silvano Alves. Alves has taken some flak for choosing bulls that are not "rank," meaning difficult to ride. Yet he stays on more of them then anyone else. His bull choices has ruffled the feathers of the old guard, all of them subscribe to "the cowboy way," which apparently translates to "make it as difficult as you possibly can."
Last week, Silvano stayed on a bull that had a bad ride. After his eight seconds, Alves received 7.5 points for his effort. 73.5 points is not at all a good score. A good score is 86-89 points, with 90-plus-point rides typically reserved for the final round. The highest score in the history of the PBR is around 96 points.
Alves is poised to win again, and he likely will, barring injury. He doesn't win as many rounds or events as you'd think, because someone will likely have a better weekend than he. But overall, he'll win in the end. It's not "the cowboy way," and too many of the old guard claim that he can't win that way. But he does.
The top five are Brazilians? Yes, they are. They're good at staying on. They won't pick Bushwacker when they get the chance, nor will they intentionally choose to ride any of the other strongest bulls. Americans pick 'em, and they fail. I wonder how essential Adriano Moreas is to the Brazilian mentality. Adriano is the only three-time winner of the PBR, winning a world title at the advanced bull-riding age of 36. I don't think anybody currently on tour is that old. I don't know his bull choosing, but I think that if anyone has the best idea of how to win, it's him.
The PFTS came up with a new rule, to be used about eight time this year. On specific nights, the top 15 riders in the world that year are obligated to ride the 15 rankest bulls. I believe that this is PBR's way of stopping the Brazilian dominance. By forcing Alves to ride Bushwacker, or Guillerme Marchi to ride Asteroid, the PBR is forcing the Brazilians out of their comfort zone.
it may work. But it's sneaky as hell of them to do that.
I first started watching it when we lived in a small apartment in Illinois, in the middle of our worst year together. We got along great, but the world seemed against us. We were both miserable in our jobs. Margie had a new boss who unreasonably claimed that she'd soon be fired, despite her great reviews. She's have to stand and wait for a bus to take her to a crowded train that would often leave just before the bus got her there. She once stood outside in 25-below temperatures, waiting for a bus that was late. Standing there with a back that was getting so bad that it required major surgery. For me, I had a comfortable commute, but I still cried half the days I worked at this particular high school that ended up cutting my job at the end of the year. Back then, it was so comforting to curl up on the couch, under our unicorn blanket, watching guys like Ryan Dirteater getting thrown around the ring by these massive bulls.
I think we caught every showing last season. This year, they're on more channels with a haphazard schedule, and some of the events aren't on TV at all, but on pbr.com instead. Stinks to be other people who don't get some of the other channels, but I digress.
What I want to discuss here is the dominance of the Brazilian riders. Last year, five Brazilians set atop the final standings. Valdiron de Oliveira, known for riding a very high percentages of bulls, led for most of the year but was overtaken by youngster Silvano Alves. Alves has taken some flak for choosing bulls that are not "rank," meaning difficult to ride. Yet he stays on more of them then anyone else. His bull choices has ruffled the feathers of the old guard, all of them subscribe to "the cowboy way," which apparently translates to "make it as difficult as you possibly can."
Last week, Silvano stayed on a bull that had a bad ride. After his eight seconds, Alves received 7.5 points for his effort. 73.5 points is not at all a good score. A good score is 86-89 points, with 90-plus-point rides typically reserved for the final round. The highest score in the history of the PBR is around 96 points.
Alves is poised to win again, and he likely will, barring injury. He doesn't win as many rounds or events as you'd think, because someone will likely have a better weekend than he. But overall, he'll win in the end. It's not "the cowboy way," and too many of the old guard claim that he can't win that way. But he does.
The top five are Brazilians? Yes, they are. They're good at staying on. They won't pick Bushwacker when they get the chance, nor will they intentionally choose to ride any of the other strongest bulls. Americans pick 'em, and they fail. I wonder how essential Adriano Moreas is to the Brazilian mentality. Adriano is the only three-time winner of the PBR, winning a world title at the advanced bull-riding age of 36. I don't think anybody currently on tour is that old. I don't know his bull choosing, but I think that if anyone has the best idea of how to win, it's him.
The PFTS came up with a new rule, to be used about eight time this year. On specific nights, the top 15 riders in the world that year are obligated to ride the 15 rankest bulls. I believe that this is PBR's way of stopping the Brazilian dominance. By forcing Alves to ride Bushwacker, or Guillerme Marchi to ride Asteroid, the PBR is forcing the Brazilians out of their comfort zone.
it may work. But it's sneaky as hell of them to do that.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Breaking 100
I have new songs on my YouTube page! I feel good about the Damien Rice one. The others are decent. It's all about recognizing when my voice goes flat, which is most of the time. I have to concentrate on every note I sing, which then takes my mind away from my guitar playing. Watching myself is a hrad thing to do, but as it's making me better, it's also a good thing to do.
What a horrible game of bowling last night. I was in danger of not breaking 100 on the last game. Seriously. After opening with two spares and two strikes, I then proceeded to have NINE consecutive open frames. A lot of my strike balls looked good, but so many of them broke too much, hitting the head pin dead on and creating splits, which I couldn't convert. I limped home on the first game with a 131, tying the prior week for my worst game in quite a while... but I wasn't done yet.
In the second game, I had at least four splits and finished with a 136. It was torture. By the end of that game, it felt as if I had no idea how to bowl. I felt weak, my muscle memory completely wiped out. I couldn't do everything on my checklist. And when I thought I did, I'd pull the ball, as I did on three consecutive frames that offered easy spares. I pulled all three.
The thing was that many people struggled last night. Not as much as me, perhaps, but there were a lot of games lower than the typical average. The first survivor game cut-off was 205, meaning that, if your hancapped score was 205 or higher, you were in the top half and advanced to the next round. In general, the survivor score should be 220, and it usually is around that mark. 205 was a steep decline.
Our opponents also sucked, however. It looked like a bunch of guys that really didn't know what they were doing up there. And boy, I was hitting a new low with my last game, in danger of not breaking 100. When I finally converted an easy spare in the ninth frame, I figured out that I needed at least three pins on my first ball to get 100, and I had no confidence that I could get it.
But I finally threw the ball I had been waiting for all night. On my 36th and last frame, I threw the perfect ball, which nailed the pocket perfectly and sent all ten pins to the deaths. "Yeah!" I yelled. "Hot Damn!" I yelled even louder. Man, that felt good. The next two balls were nine (standing five) and a pick-up. And that fantastic ending left me with a final score of 124.
One twenty-frickin'-four. Ugh. My series didn't even break 400. Again, how in the hell did I bowl a 641 series last month? But hey, we won the last game, thanks to my strong finish. If we would've lost by a small amount because I finished as poorly as I had bowled all night, I would not have been able to contain my emotions. As it turned out, I couldn't contain them anyway. Hot Damn!
Practiced today for eight games and could only break 200 once. Still, take out the first game and the last game, where I worked on hitting the 7 and 10 pins for the last half, and I was in the 170's. I only realized on the way home why I was missing left on the 7s and on the 10s: the lane, she's dry! No oil. That place is starting to go downhill. When I went to wash my hands, the soap dispenser was empty, just as it was the prior night. On the sheet that hangs on the wall and shows that they've been there every half hour... they hadn't been there to restock and check for cleanliness in over 48 hours. Since Dave left, it's been getting a little seedy. Dave's now in River Grove, too far a hike for bowling. Oh well. I should e-mail him and get together for lunch, per his suggestion. He's one of the few friends I've made since moving here. Life is lonely for Margie and me these days. Thank God we have each other.
Funny how I come here to talk about bowling. Well, I guess it can be an art of sorts.
What a horrible game of bowling last night. I was in danger of not breaking 100 on the last game. Seriously. After opening with two spares and two strikes, I then proceeded to have NINE consecutive open frames. A lot of my strike balls looked good, but so many of them broke too much, hitting the head pin dead on and creating splits, which I couldn't convert. I limped home on the first game with a 131, tying the prior week for my worst game in quite a while... but I wasn't done yet.
In the second game, I had at least four splits and finished with a 136. It was torture. By the end of that game, it felt as if I had no idea how to bowl. I felt weak, my muscle memory completely wiped out. I couldn't do everything on my checklist. And when I thought I did, I'd pull the ball, as I did on three consecutive frames that offered easy spares. I pulled all three.
The thing was that many people struggled last night. Not as much as me, perhaps, but there were a lot of games lower than the typical average. The first survivor game cut-off was 205, meaning that, if your hancapped score was 205 or higher, you were in the top half and advanced to the next round. In general, the survivor score should be 220, and it usually is around that mark. 205 was a steep decline.
Our opponents also sucked, however. It looked like a bunch of guys that really didn't know what they were doing up there. And boy, I was hitting a new low with my last game, in danger of not breaking 100. When I finally converted an easy spare in the ninth frame, I figured out that I needed at least three pins on my first ball to get 100, and I had no confidence that I could get it.
But I finally threw the ball I had been waiting for all night. On my 36th and last frame, I threw the perfect ball, which nailed the pocket perfectly and sent all ten pins to the deaths. "Yeah!" I yelled. "Hot Damn!" I yelled even louder. Man, that felt good. The next two balls were nine (standing five) and a pick-up. And that fantastic ending left me with a final score of 124.
One twenty-frickin'-four. Ugh. My series didn't even break 400. Again, how in the hell did I bowl a 641 series last month? But hey, we won the last game, thanks to my strong finish. If we would've lost by a small amount because I finished as poorly as I had bowled all night, I would not have been able to contain my emotions. As it turned out, I couldn't contain them anyway. Hot Damn!
Practiced today for eight games and could only break 200 once. Still, take out the first game and the last game, where I worked on hitting the 7 and 10 pins for the last half, and I was in the 170's. I only realized on the way home why I was missing left on the 7s and on the 10s: the lane, she's dry! No oil. That place is starting to go downhill. When I went to wash my hands, the soap dispenser was empty, just as it was the prior night. On the sheet that hangs on the wall and shows that they've been there every half hour... they hadn't been there to restock and check for cleanliness in over 48 hours. Since Dave left, it's been getting a little seedy. Dave's now in River Grove, too far a hike for bowling. Oh well. I should e-mail him and get together for lunch, per his suggestion. He's one of the few friends I've made since moving here. Life is lonely for Margie and me these days. Thank God we have each other.
Funny how I come here to talk about bowling. Well, I guess it can be an art of sorts.
Friday, January 13, 2012
99
This is the 99th post I've made on this blog. Today's entry was going to go in my personal journal. Until this blog, all of my thoughts have gone in there. And really, that is where my thoughts should go. I wanted this blog to be about my creative outlets, but it's more of a bitch session and a way of working out my personal kinks. Writing them out is beneficial, but does it need to be here? No. So I'll try to use this blog more for anything I create that I want to share with the world. Music will likely be posted here instead.
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