Imposter Alert: does anybody actually read this thing?...aka Scared Straight: a look at my personal life...aka the play's the thing
Well, I’m a little disappointed slash disturbed.
Turns out, I’m not as unique as I might have hoped.
The last post was actually written by Eric, everyone’s favorite blog-deleting Bone-Daddy. I made a few minor edits, but 99.5% of that opus was ghost written. I figured someone might notice that pale imitation of my singular style, but Nay! Nary a murmur from anyone out there. I would have laughed my ass off if my anonymous fan had left that comment on E’s post, but sadly I do not have that shield to hide behind.
If anything, that post got the best reviews I’ve seen in weeks. Bastards. Waffles came closest when he noted “Wow. Actual poker content.” That fact alone I thought would be a dead giveaway.
Anyhow, E will occasionally post here – he’s too lazy to start another blog, so he’ll just play squatter over here. Since I blog about once a week, that leaves plenty of time for any other people out there who have something to say but are too smart to nurse this particular addiction. How’s this for a contest. If you spot one of his posts I’ll give the first correct guess a buck, but if you’re wrong ya owe me one. Any takers? Let’s see.
On other fronts - after God knows how many attempts dating back to late December last year, I final tabled WWdN. As this tournament is where my interest in MTTs and poker bloggers began, that was very cool. I ended up busting out third after playing reasonably well, but also getting very lucky three times, so no complaints on my end. Except perhaps for the uberboo move I made on the way out.
Want to know what people mean when they say “don’t make bets that will only be called by hands that can beat you?” Well…just hypothetically…don’t push your entire 25k stack at a 5x raise holding A7s (The Accidental Tourist) even if you are shorthanded. The only person who is going to call that fucker is ahead or racing. AA-Joshman-AA, holding the non-eponymous but equally effective AK, was decidedly ahead. No pressure at all to make that move. Amusingly I suppose, it came seconds after R-gee kindly opined I was improving as a player. Would that it were so, but I still appreciate the sentiment. After being so paranoid about busting out early for so long, somehow a gasket blew in my head and I wanted to win the whole thing immediately.
What I really learned from this is that I need a better air conditioner. My study is fucking boiling after four hours of poker and results in me doing mercurial things like this. Mo-Ho-Ron.
But still! Third. With a hell of a lot of good players in this thing. So that’s yet another goal the MWGB has pulled off for me. And given this finish, and a couple of reasonably deep 20k runs where I got my money in way ahead but got sent home anyway, I am feeling like I am playing better. Still puh-lenty of room for improvement [see above for details], but I am liking a good chunk of my decisions again.
No, not that last one. Yecchhh! Super-gross, ya might say, depending entirely on how insufferable I come off at any given moment.
What else?
In the mood for some non-poker stuff? Fair warning – this will be me bitching about my life, despite clearly understanding I have it pretty fucking good and should be constantly looking for ways to pay the universe back for the ridiculous good fortune I have enjoyed my whole life. Sheesh. Now I don’t even want to go on.
But like the Sam Beckett fan that I am, I guess I must.
My New York medical license has been held up for bureaucratic reasons at several levels, and though I know eventually everything will be ok, right now I am pretty stressed and upset about not being able to start my new job on time at the beginning of October. As totally self-serving as this sounds, I really value being a reliable guy. If I promise something, I will bust my considerable backside to deliver. One of the first sentences I taught my son was, “a deal is a deal”. And no, it wasn’t a poker reference that time.
When it comes to work, I like being that guy who wants the ball. So the fact that I signed a contract promising to start Oct 1, and now cannot is really eating me up. I’ve become cranky as I’ve tried to charm, cajole and harangue the administrations at my hospital and my medical school to help me out.
At home I think I am bordering on intolerable. I’ve loved being home for the last three months as a housedad. I am a fairly neat guy, so I don’t mind doing the stuff that keeps the house running, and I truly love hanging with the kids all day. You guys know how it is – these space-invading creatures - who moved into your once somewhat spacious house and now eat all your food and destroy your valuables - have this way of making your backyard seem like it’s positively extraterrestrial. And your life seem like it’s positively enchanted. It has been a cyclical joy and occasionally sublime. In particular, it’s been amazing getting to know my big girl (the two-year old) better. This is nothing any of you don’t know, but just the act of loving people this deeply while we go about our daily lives is enriching. I feel like I am penciling in the detail on my kids that I missed while in fellowship, and that makes me feel great.
But coming up on 8 weeks, I am beginning to miss doing what I know I am supposed to be doing with my life. I feel kind of lazy because I feel underused. Perhaps this is proof that people (by which I mean me) are fundamentally stupid, and incapable of taking the foot off the accelerator long enough to appreciate the lulls life affords them every once in a while. Or maybe it’s that someone as controlling as me is having major issues with the fact an important step in his career is being delayed by forces beyond his meager control. That certainly has the ring of truth. Fuck. I know I should just chill, and eventually this will work itself out. But the uncertainty has put the house hunting on hold and forced us to change our plans to sell our house in Cleveland. Now we’re going to keep this house and U and the kids will stay here while I start work and rent an apartment for a month or so, just so we have all the finances and other crap aligned properly before pulling the trigger on a monster mortgage.
I know, I know. As far as problems go these are pretty bourgeois, especially if you pay any attention to what’s going on all over the world. Guilty as charged. Still. It’s been bothering me.
And somehow, putting that down and admitting it does make it easier to think about. So that’s something.
What else? On a brighter note:
I tried to take a vacation this weekend. Took the wife and kids to Toronto, dropped the kids off with my Mom & Dad, and then whisked my girl off to Stratford, Ontario for the annual Shakespeare Festival. We had a suite at Langdon Hall, an estate right out of Jane Austen, about forty minutes from the theatre. In all I did about 16 hours of driving in the 48 hours of the weekend, and am still recovering, but on the whole it was worth it.
We saw Twelfth Night and Much Ado About Nothing. Now I love watching live theatre, and in particular I love Shakespeare. Right after Writer on the List of Roads I wish I had had the Talent & Balls to Take When I was Younger, would come Actor. I love the look and sound of words, and the act of creating new ways to combine them and deliver them. All you ever need to do to appreciate the genius of good performances is to try performing yourself, or watch a bunch of terrible performers mangle something beautifully written. Having drank deep of both of those dubious experiences, I am left in the enjoyable, but wistful position of informed, appreciative audience member.
So Stratford was a lot of fun, especially since I was introducing U to it, and hopeful that this could be something we do together. She had a blast and given that English is her second language, it underscores my strongly held conviction that Shakespeare is for all of us. Done well, it’s not about stuffy British accents and language that makes no sense. Done well, the language breathes through the genius of the performers interpreting it, and in finding this life, the play becomes something easy to reach and relate to. I personally think the comedies prove this much better than the tragedies, because you would think the jokes shouldn’t work unless you are easy with the lingo. But once the performers set the scene, the logic of the comedy transcends the particulars of the language. I watched school kids laugh hysterically at the antics of Malvolio as he pranced around in “yellow stockings, cross-gartered!” and Constable Dogberry continually proves funny without any explanation (although, having seen three productions of Much Ado, I still give Michael Keaton my vote for nailing this redoubtable idiot perfectly – see the movie with Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson as leads, it is terrific).
Naturally, I too wish all my tediousnesses upon all of you. Hence my blog.
If you haven’t seen a play of Shakespeare’s before, look for one – ideally by a professional troupe; in Canada, nothing beats the Stratford Festival. Or if the last time you saw one was in high school, go again now. As an adult it just makes more sense. By now, we are all bereft of our innocences. By this point in our journey, we have loved unrequitedly, had desires, hopes and ambitions dashed, and felt the darkest emotions we’re likely to ever know. The emotional table is set for us to be an audience able to grasp Shakespeare on an intuitive level far better than the bored sixteen year-olds on an Honours English class trip.
Okay, now I am tired.
Did I mention I finished third in the WWdN? I did? Oh. Okay.
Laytah.
Turns out, I’m not as unique as I might have hoped.
The last post was actually written by Eric, everyone’s favorite blog-deleting Bone-Daddy. I made a few minor edits, but 99.5% of that opus was ghost written. I figured someone might notice that pale imitation of my singular style, but Nay! Nary a murmur from anyone out there. I would have laughed my ass off if my anonymous fan had left that comment on E’s post, but sadly I do not have that shield to hide behind.
If anything, that post got the best reviews I’ve seen in weeks. Bastards. Waffles came closest when he noted “Wow. Actual poker content.” That fact alone I thought would be a dead giveaway.
Anyhow, E will occasionally post here – he’s too lazy to start another blog, so he’ll just play squatter over here. Since I blog about once a week, that leaves plenty of time for any other people out there who have something to say but are too smart to nurse this particular addiction. How’s this for a contest. If you spot one of his posts I’ll give the first correct guess a buck, but if you’re wrong ya owe me one. Any takers? Let’s see.
On other fronts - after God knows how many attempts dating back to late December last year, I final tabled WWdN. As this tournament is where my interest in MTTs and poker bloggers began, that was very cool. I ended up busting out third after playing reasonably well, but also getting very lucky three times, so no complaints on my end. Except perhaps for the uberboo move I made on the way out.
Want to know what people mean when they say “don’t make bets that will only be called by hands that can beat you?” Well…just hypothetically…don’t push your entire 25k stack at a 5x raise holding A7s (The Accidental Tourist) even if you are shorthanded. The only person who is going to call that fucker is ahead or racing. AA-Joshman-AA, holding the non-eponymous but equally effective AK, was decidedly ahead. No pressure at all to make that move. Amusingly I suppose, it came seconds after R-gee kindly opined I was improving as a player. Would that it were so, but I still appreciate the sentiment. After being so paranoid about busting out early for so long, somehow a gasket blew in my head and I wanted to win the whole thing immediately.
What I really learned from this is that I need a better air conditioner. My study is fucking boiling after four hours of poker and results in me doing mercurial things like this. Mo-Ho-Ron.
But still! Third. With a hell of a lot of good players in this thing. So that’s yet another goal the MWGB has pulled off for me. And given this finish, and a couple of reasonably deep 20k runs where I got my money in way ahead but got sent home anyway, I am feeling like I am playing better. Still puh-lenty of room for improvement [see above for details], but I am liking a good chunk of my decisions again.
No, not that last one. Yecchhh! Super-gross, ya might say, depending entirely on how insufferable I come off at any given moment.
What else?
In the mood for some non-poker stuff? Fair warning – this will be me bitching about my life, despite clearly understanding I have it pretty fucking good and should be constantly looking for ways to pay the universe back for the ridiculous good fortune I have enjoyed my whole life. Sheesh. Now I don’t even want to go on.
But like the Sam Beckett fan that I am, I guess I must.
My New York medical license has been held up for bureaucratic reasons at several levels, and though I know eventually everything will be ok, right now I am pretty stressed and upset about not being able to start my new job on time at the beginning of October. As totally self-serving as this sounds, I really value being a reliable guy. If I promise something, I will bust my considerable backside to deliver. One of the first sentences I taught my son was, “a deal is a deal”. And no, it wasn’t a poker reference that time.
When it comes to work, I like being that guy who wants the ball. So the fact that I signed a contract promising to start Oct 1, and now cannot is really eating me up. I’ve become cranky as I’ve tried to charm, cajole and harangue the administrations at my hospital and my medical school to help me out.
At home I think I am bordering on intolerable. I’ve loved being home for the last three months as a housedad. I am a fairly neat guy, so I don’t mind doing the stuff that keeps the house running, and I truly love hanging with the kids all day. You guys know how it is – these space-invading creatures - who moved into your once somewhat spacious house and now eat all your food and destroy your valuables - have this way of making your backyard seem like it’s positively extraterrestrial. And your life seem like it’s positively enchanted. It has been a cyclical joy and occasionally sublime. In particular, it’s been amazing getting to know my big girl (the two-year old) better. This is nothing any of you don’t know, but just the act of loving people this deeply while we go about our daily lives is enriching. I feel like I am penciling in the detail on my kids that I missed while in fellowship, and that makes me feel great.
But coming up on 8 weeks, I am beginning to miss doing what I know I am supposed to be doing with my life. I feel kind of lazy because I feel underused. Perhaps this is proof that people (by which I mean me) are fundamentally stupid, and incapable of taking the foot off the accelerator long enough to appreciate the lulls life affords them every once in a while. Or maybe it’s that someone as controlling as me is having major issues with the fact an important step in his career is being delayed by forces beyond his meager control. That certainly has the ring of truth. Fuck. I know I should just chill, and eventually this will work itself out. But the uncertainty has put the house hunting on hold and forced us to change our plans to sell our house in Cleveland. Now we’re going to keep this house and U and the kids will stay here while I start work and rent an apartment for a month or so, just so we have all the finances and other crap aligned properly before pulling the trigger on a monster mortgage.
I know, I know. As far as problems go these are pretty bourgeois, especially if you pay any attention to what’s going on all over the world. Guilty as charged. Still. It’s been bothering me.
And somehow, putting that down and admitting it does make it easier to think about. So that’s something.
What else? On a brighter note:
I tried to take a vacation this weekend. Took the wife and kids to Toronto, dropped the kids off with my Mom & Dad, and then whisked my girl off to Stratford, Ontario for the annual Shakespeare Festival. We had a suite at Langdon Hall, an estate right out of Jane Austen, about forty minutes from the theatre. In all I did about 16 hours of driving in the 48 hours of the weekend, and am still recovering, but on the whole it was worth it.
We saw Twelfth Night and Much Ado About Nothing. Now I love watching live theatre, and in particular I love Shakespeare. Right after Writer on the List of Roads I wish I had had the Talent & Balls to Take When I was Younger, would come Actor. I love the look and sound of words, and the act of creating new ways to combine them and deliver them. All you ever need to do to appreciate the genius of good performances is to try performing yourself, or watch a bunch of terrible performers mangle something beautifully written. Having drank deep of both of those dubious experiences, I am left in the enjoyable, but wistful position of informed, appreciative audience member.
So Stratford was a lot of fun, especially since I was introducing U to it, and hopeful that this could be something we do together. She had a blast and given that English is her second language, it underscores my strongly held conviction that Shakespeare is for all of us. Done well, it’s not about stuffy British accents and language that makes no sense. Done well, the language breathes through the genius of the performers interpreting it, and in finding this life, the play becomes something easy to reach and relate to. I personally think the comedies prove this much better than the tragedies, because you would think the jokes shouldn’t work unless you are easy with the lingo. But once the performers set the scene, the logic of the comedy transcends the particulars of the language. I watched school kids laugh hysterically at the antics of Malvolio as he pranced around in “yellow stockings, cross-gartered!” and Constable Dogberry continually proves funny without any explanation (although, having seen three productions of Much Ado, I still give Michael Keaton my vote for nailing this redoubtable idiot perfectly – see the movie with Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson as leads, it is terrific).
Naturally, I too wish all my tediousnesses upon all of you. Hence my blog.
If you haven’t seen a play of Shakespeare’s before, look for one – ideally by a professional troupe; in Canada, nothing beats the Stratford Festival. Or if the last time you saw one was in high school, go again now. As an adult it just makes more sense. By now, we are all bereft of our innocences. By this point in our journey, we have loved unrequitedly, had desires, hopes and ambitions dashed, and felt the darkest emotions we’re likely to ever know. The emotional table is set for us to be an audience able to grasp Shakespeare on an intuitive level far better than the bored sixteen year-olds on an Honours English class trip.
Okay, now I am tired.
Did I mention I finished third in the WWdN? I did? Oh. Okay.
Laytah.
posted by Iakaris aka I.A.K. at 1:45 AM
11 Comments:
Actually, I thought you played damn well, excepting that last momentary adrenaline surge, also explainable because the tourist had worked for you just those few hands earlier. (I've done worse.) At least you went bust betting, not calling. You also kept putting me to choices I did not want to make.
I should have know it was not you when there was actual poker content.. We never talk anymore, I miss you.. Wow was that Ghey!!!
Nice work in the WWdN. As a Beckett fan, you must have been inspired by Sammy's "Waiting for Godot."
Haley: Welcome, and thanks. Yeah, I was playing with inflammables trying A7 twice in about three hands. Lesson learned.
Waffles - I have been using the other yahoo address lately to try and get this license shit done. I miss ya too ya big girl. I will get better about logging back into my real ID.
Steve-o: For a scientist, you're pretty well read. But actually I was echoing Malone Dies there. "I can't go on, I must go on." A bizarre but fascinating take on the inertia that sometimes drives our continued existence.
Nice playing with you at the final table last night. Here's hoping we can do it again at the Mookie.
Also, Beckett SUCKS ASS. I would take Tennessee Williams over Beckett any day, and I don't even like Williams either!
Ya gotta admit, Eric did a damn fine job of immediately making us think it was you...what with the long ass title and all. It even had the "aka" thing going.
Plus, the whole looking like Robster thing had me going. I admit I had to do an internet search to figure out who Robbie Benson was. I was disturbed when I clicked through a Robbie Google pick and ended up on an Ubergeigh Man on Man blog. Is there something I need to know???
Oh, and nice job on the WWdN. 3rd is much better than where I placed...smack dab on the couch.
The hard part was learning latin in a week.
JEALOUS!!! I've always wanted to make the Stratfor festival. Twelfth Night is a fave, and I directed Much Ado a couple years ago, with a fantastic husband and wife team as Benedick and Beatrice. Great choices, and I agree, well performed, Shakespeare is for everyone.
Matt: You are playing so solid I predict a Major score soon. You've got that Hoy/Smokkee-like MTT game going. As for Beckett, I'll agree he's an aquired taste, and I have to be in a very particular frame of mind to enjoy him. Williams I think of as entertainment, but what the fuck do I know?
Trip: yeah, E hit it the note so well it made me wonder at how easy he made it look. The title was mostly his, but I did add the aka's 'cause I thought there absence would be a howler.
E: brevis esse laboro obscurus fio. basically the genus of the whole blog, no?
Falstaff: I've always wondered about your handle, figuring you must be a kindred spirit. The fact that you've directed is VERY cool. It's interesting about the married couple playing Beatrice and Benedick; the way they interact from the beginning is the exactly the kind of banter a fiesty (and excessively witty) marriage enjoys - i know; i have one!
Cudos to Eric for the facade of you, but yes, too much poker content and real quotes should have given it away to all of us.
Obviously I'm a huge fan of the bard..went to Romeo & Juliet by the Bell Shakespeare company a few months ago. Modern dress and simple staging, but the power of the message still resonates so clearly.
Much ado (the movie and play) is one of my favourite rainy day choices. And dammit, now I miss Stratford....
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