Things that are good: We accepted an offer for the house yesterday. Not the best price we could have hoped for, but above what we considered our "floor." Based on the large supply of homes on the market in our neck of the woods, my impatient desire to get the hell out of that depressing shell of a house and the buyer-frightening slope which is poised to become over-grown (again) thanks to all the recent rain, this is definitely a "bird in the hand" situation. Just gimme a check. The idea of moving on has put a bounce in my step all day. I'm not even stressing about all that needs to be done in the next five weeks. And I've been spending WAY too much time pricing home theater systems and other toys a suddenly-single man of my age must have in order to compensate for the plummeting self-esteem.
It's not really plummmeting. In fact, I'm looking very handsome today.
I've been shying away from teh pokah lately, mainly because I'm just not playing very well. In addition, I seem to have gotten into this tournament rut and anyone who goes exclusively that route knows there are long stretches between big cashes even in the best of times. One thing I've noticed about myself is that when my online bankroll is flush, I get a little careless with my play. "It's only $26. I've got 100x that in my account!" Which is dumb.
So, partly to keep myself honest, partly to have a little extra cash on hand for the upcoming expenses of moving, I cashed out about 80% of my online holdings. The object is to make me more careful with the more limited funds. Yes, I'm "tricking" myself, since I will soon be holding a check for more money than I've ever held in my life and can replenish all bankrolls with the click of a mouse or two. But then again, I'm the same guy whose alarm clock is set 15 minutes ahead and that seems to work every morning. But I'm going to be more choosy with how often and where I lay my money down.
The game which got me my bankroll in the first place is the "crack of online poker," SnGs. Pauly and I were discussing our histories the other night and how I found Nirvana in the form of the $5 SnGs on Party. I'd been sinking at the .25/.50 limit tables and the new discovery was a boon to my learning curve, as well as my bottom line. Within a month or two, I was doing pretty well at the $20 level and finally had some working capital.
Of course, somewhere in there, I hit my first big cash in an MTT and have been spending the overwhelming majority of my time in that pursuit ever since. Now, with the demands of both shortened time and concentration, I'm gonna slip back into the SnG groove, anywhere from $20-$50, one- or two-table, depending on mood. I took a second in a $30 two-table last night on Stars (my preferred level) and was immediately reminded how very simple it is to be profitable in these things. I think I won 3 pots before folding into the money.
So I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about poker, too.
Fucking Falstaff. Can't leave a brother alone to wallow in his misery.
I'm still pretty blocked in the whole creativity thing. I can write, but it's not any good. Again, concentration is fleeting. I'll do this, though. Becuase I love the song, because 'Staff has gone out of his way to help me out and because sometmes you just gotta force it out. Sure, you may blow out an O-Ring, but it's better than being backed up.
"Who is that, Daddy?" my son said, pointing to the image on the TV.
I lowered "Green Eggs and Ham" and looked at him. "Are you going to listen to the story or not?"
"Yes," he said in his insistent way. "But who's that guy?
I traced the line of his finger toward the TV. "That's a very important man, Jack."
I paused, measuring my words and finding them wanting. "It's hard to explain."
"Is he a good guy?"
"Yes, Jack. He is--was--a very good guy. A hero."
"Spiderman is a hero. He helps people."
"You're right, son. He is like Spiderman. He helps people."
"Like saving them from fires and bad guys and stuff?"
"No, not exactly. He just told the truth."
"He didn't lie?"
"Lying is bad."
"Right. Lying is bad. But telling the truth is hard sometimes, too."
I nodded and gulped. He only continued to stare up at me, his eyes wide and accepting. He's a sponge, my son. An inquisitive, faithful sponge. "Sometimes," I began slowly. "People have to say things, true things, that might make other people feel bad. Or angry."
"Why do they say them?"
"It's like...remember when you broke the window playing baseball?"
"And you started to run away, but you came back?"
"That was courage. You knew you did something wrong, but you admitted what you did, even though you knew you were going to get into trouble. You took responsibility. You didn't hide."
Jack smiled proudly. "So the man didn't hide?"
"No, he didn't. When it would have been much easier on him. He spoke up when others couldn't, or wouldn't. He made people face the truth, made them acknowledge the world around them and all its problems, instead of ignoring them, holding them inside where all they can do is fester, or disappear. He brought light to the world, Jack."
"He sounds great."
"Can I meet him?"
"I'm sorry, Jack. He's in heaven."
"You don't need to be sad, son," I said, stroking his hair. "People remember what he did. They remember him. His courage. He changed lives. That's why he's so important."
"I want to change lives."
"That's a good thing to want, Jack. That would make Daddy very proud."
He smiled, my son, that smile that could end wars. He eyed Dr. Suess and as I moved to continue the story, I thought to myself, "They can't kill our prophets. Not as long as others pick up the tale."