A matter of clouds

I, I the man of the Rand and the Rand of the man, persevere in spite of attempts by giant fish to stop me. But no giant fish will defeat me, for I am John!!!

But let that matter be discarded. I remember in about 4th or 5th grade I still liked school. Perhaps I didn't admit it because of peer pressure, but overall I enjoyed being at school. It was only with middle school school really started to bug me. Perhaps that was because with the dawning of my hormones my anxiety problems got kicked into to overdrive.

After that, minor social anxiety blossomed into full on social paranoia (I use paranoia here in a very loose, ultra-loose, barely hanging on to the threads of syntax loose sense (basically any rapid-fire depressing, self-hating, fearful thoughts)). Basically my mind exploded. And any sense of social satisfaction I got from school evaporated. And so I had school work. But investing myself in my school work put such intense performance stress on me that it almost killed the alien embryo that I'm raising in my stomach. Or maybe it just gave me anxiety attacks, either one.

So I had to choose whether or not I wanted to attach my worth to my grades. And all my upbringing, my experiences, my culture, etc. suggested to me in the end that while grades were good and an accomplishment, they were not a measure of worth. But let me caution, I presented here a relatively linear process of an intellectual trend, but the mind doesn't work that way, it don't, my friend, it simply don't. Another factor to my disconnecting my sense of worth from my school work was my disconnect from the idea of school being its own universe with teachers having a natural, if not always welcome spot at it head, to it simply being a tiny piece of the universe with teachers being just people without an inherent superiority to me. Suddenly doing well by their measures seemed submitting to an unnecessary (and by my then reasoning automatically unjust) authority. Teenage rebellion, et. al. I suppose. And then there was my religious journey which led me to conclude that earthly authorities must always be subject to heavenly authorities. Etc. So there were a lot of factors.

Then if school (and let me include college here (although college does differ from primary and secondary schooling in some theoretical points which I won't get into here)) wasn't a measure of worth, then what was it supposed to be. More or less a stepping stone, a tool. Intellectually that's how I view it. But emotionally, it's hard to see it as less than confinement. Perhaps that's just a manifestation of my wanderlust soul. Or in more charitable terms an imposition. It's hard to stand that, and perhaps that's a reason why I have such trouble sticking to my classes. But in the way I think about things I actually have less care for school than work. At least when I'm working I get a feeling that I'm building some organization or something, but with school it feels like all my effort is going to nothing except satisfying the expectations of others. Perhaps I can say that when I'm in lecture there's the satisfaction of learning but with tests, projects, and essays, etc. (although occasionally I do feel satisfaction from projects and essays since they involve some creativity, it usually is as much or more giving a feeling of burden). In the end, I just can't take a great deal of satisfaction from school, at least as long as I keep on looking on it as a burden.

Perhaps a better way of looking at matters would be to see school as a game. And the whole matter becomes a competition when it comes to grades. Now many people dislike that analogy because it puts too much stress on kids and undermines their feelings of friendship. But that's only if you look at it as an immensely important game. But let's take this as a pretty important game, not hugely important, you can rebound from bad grades, but it's still got some gravity to it. And there is some fun to it with the learning and all. And then there is some accomplishment to getting a good grade. But it isn't the accomplishment of say a medal of honor, or something that suggests quality in a person (even if a person's true quality is a matter hidden in the brain, personal, and in my mind moreover a matter of how they view the world instead of what they accomplish, etc., etc., etc., blah, blah, blah). Rather a good grade in school is like a victory in football, or soccer, or Magic: The Gathering.

And when it comes down to it, it isn't really a victory over your competitors, they rather are your fellow-travelers in the game, a victory in a game is a victory over its rules, its obstacles and your own limits. Perhaps, if I looked at school like that, it might become palatable again. Stranger things have happened.

Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Playing your hands as the hands blaze

I'm not a terribly good poker player. That is not to say I'm a bad one. When I'm honest about it, which is occasionally, I am a middling-poker player. But I like poker, heck I love poker, if there is a sport for me, it is poker. All this could logically lead to the conclusion that I belong in small, friendly games away from big money pots. But those games aren't the same, in the same way a baseball game among friends isn't the same as a professional game, even in the minor leagues. Still, I try to be careful not to indulge my taste for the game too much, except on exceptional incidents, including one rather spectacularly unsuccessful trip to Atlantic City. But I do like the game, and I can't say that it's merely an idle passion as I might be able to say for other sports I enjoyed, such as soccer and frisbee.

Like I said I'm a middling poker player, but the frustrating part is that I have moments of greatness. I have moments where I hold my own against top-notch players and even triumph over them. And I'm not talking about moments of luck, although I have plenty of thrilling stories of those, the real pride of a poker player is not winning on the river, but carefully constructing a win based on knowledge of the cards and your opponent. And I've had moments like that. However it's more than moments of greatness, overall I think I have some potential. My mid-game, and lately even my early game has been rather good lately, but I have yet to successfully master the late game. And even though my early game is improving it still occasionally leads me to folly. The key to my skill, I think, is aggression when I have something, but playing conservative when I have nothing. I try never to bluff with absolutely nothing. If I adhere to this strategy, I play well. The particular odds of cards come into play, the particular characteristics and behaviors of the players come into play, but while those are key to the big win, they cannot distract from the core strategy. At least when it comes to me, I have known spectacular players who have other strategies.

And yet I get cocky and/or I get sloppy. It's so easy to do. To bet because you want to see the cards, or because you think it's too late to back out. To feel invincible. To underestimate your opponent and overestimate your ability. To force away the real knowledge of what your opponent's hand really is. It is just so easy. And so utterly frustrating.

So the key to this, is giving up poker, or working on my technique. Giving up poker is an option, but although that Atlantic City incident may suggest otherwise, in general poker is not a very expensive habit for me and provides me with a lot of entertainment and satisfaction. The Atlantic City incident is actually the exception that proves the rule since trips to high gambling places are likely to be such odd occasions in my life (unless my game improves, and I mean not just luck-wise improves, but skill-wise improves). Thus the choice falls to improving my game.

But there is another frustration. The terrible frustration of not being able to find a good game. And my awful really, organizational skills hampering my own creation of games. Thus I am confined to irregular intervals, the distance between which often impedes my learning process and leaves me perpetually rusty. It's highly annoying all and all. But there is such a beauty to the sport. It is a contention of fate mixed with a contention of minds. And the best players can beat both. Poker comes down to knowing the sport and knowing people, and the sport is certainly enjoyable, at least from my angle, it's got hope, despair and suspense mixed in with the fellowship of the table, but this combination of skills it requires makes it thrilling, especially since when perfected, it defies even destiny.

Ah, but that's the romance of poker. It is I think a sport for me, but let me say not for everyone. Some are not good with it, and some are good with it but not good enough with it. Even though they might win and win repeatedly, if a player can't stop gambling, if it becomes a need that dominates his life, well, then he's lost already. I've seen such things happened, and to be honest, I've enabled such things. That's my shame. But it is a shame of not being a good enough friend, not of the sport itself. The sport itself remains beautiful in my eyes, even if I am a bit ugly in its eyes. But who knows? With a nice hair cut, some good clothes and a charming presentation, perhaps even I can clean up to the World Poker Tour. Poker is all about defying destiny after all.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!