Busting at Life

 

I don’t know what to tell you all.

 

I’m in a comfortable place, which kind of scares me.

I also keep pulling the same card from my tarot deck:

THE STORM WIND

The Storm Wind card forecasts that change is on the way. And it might be tough, painful or scary to boot.

I’m having weird physical symptoms lately, so there’s that.

Perhaps some kind of physical thing is about to occur that will cast havoc upon my docile life… we shall see.

 

I have been playing a ton of poker lately. At casinos. Tournaments. And I’ve been losing.
A lot. It’s frustrating. I’m also studying. A lot.

The game is complex.

 

But there is one aspect of the game, and how I’ve been playing it, that is fascinating that is reflective of my life.

They say “how you do one thing is how you do everything.”

Who?

You know–the “royal” them.

 

Anyway.

You get two cards in Texas Hold’em Poker. And there is a round of betting before you see any communal cards. Then, there’s three cards face up (the “flop”) that everyone can use to make the best hand. Then another round of betting. Then one more card face up (the “turn” card). More betting. And, lastly, a fifth card face up (the “river”), followed by one more round of betting.

Many hands between players never make it to the river because someone is betting and everyone else folds.

But my strategy (or lack thereof) has been to be super-aggressive before the flop–trying to scare people off the chips they’ve already put in and fold or… to make people commit to a much larger bet than they’re comfortable with.

But it’s been back-firing.

People don’t like to get pushed around, and yesterday someone went “ALL IN” and forced me to a decision for all of my chips.

I folded.

 

And later at home that night, laying in bed, I started to think about that hand…

and why I decided to bet so much instead of just play the hand.

And something HUGE hit me:

I play my life like I played that hand.

I try to make shit happen, but if I don’t see immediate results, I fold.

I say, fuck it.

And quit.

 

After losing that hand, I was dealt two Kings.

A MONSTER hand in poker which is only bettered by two Aces.

I tried to slow play this hand since I was one of the first to bet pre-flop, and I wanted to disguise that my hand was so good. Nobody raised, and when the flop came 7,8,9 and someone bet pretty big, I ignored the fact that my Kings were probably no longer good–and I went ALL IN to try to force him off his hand.

Well… he was holding 5,6, which means he flopped the straight–an amazingly strong hand and way better than my KK. So, I lost everything.

But it’s my process of decision-making that’s really interesting.

There was none.

It was all force.

I screwed up and should have raised my KK pre-flop, and now I had squandered a great opportunity by not raising and allowing a very weak hand like 5,6 to stay in and hit the monster straight.

And instead of just letting go and waiting for another shot, I shoved.

Let’s call it what it is: impatience.

And impatience and poker are like oil and water.

They spell loser.

 

Which is pretty how much how I’ve been feeling lately.

Like I have every opportunity in the world and I’m losing.

Failing. Sucking big balls.

 

My travel books, which many of you know about, sit on an old djembe drum inside my apartment and stare at me with a silent loser stare.

I am offering zilch to the world.

I’m not writing.

I’m playing poker!!!

Why the hell am I playing poker?

Because it’s another fast way–a short-cut–to get cash and then buy land?

Because it gives me an excuse from finishing my books?

 

I have a joke with a good friend of mine who works on movie scripts and documentaries. My nickname for him is Hondo.

It stands for 100. Everything he does he does 90%, getting creative projects almost to the finish line, but then never completing them.

And I’m realizing… that’s me, too.

 

So, here I am.

I’m a LOSER, baby, so why don’t ya kill me.

(Don’t worry, it’s a Beck lyric.)

 

Old thoughts kick in.

Nobody cares.

Your work isn’t that important.

Why bother?

Fuck it.

 

I love poker.

I love that it’s really a game that shows you yourself, as the nine or so people around the table act as mirrors.

Last night, the guy I lost to got in my head. He pissed me off, and I wanted to get him back. That’s why I slow-played those Kings.

And then I didn’t roll with reality.

 

Resistance.

Resisting life is no bueno.

Resistance is futile, they say.

And they are right.

 

What am I resisting?

And you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

www.alexobed.com