Poker is an incredible game. Every time I play, no matter the outcome, I find myself being drawn deeper into a bona fide poker addiction. Perhaps worryingly, it is also starting to occupy much of the background noise that my mind generates during the day.
And that, I believe, is the crux of poker's attraction; there is as much fun to be had in the postgame analysis as there is in the game itself; even if I am knocked out early in tournament-style Texas Hold'em, I remain fixated on the game and its remaining players, automatically evaluating hands, betting moves, and considering just what the hell I would have done with that flop.
My growing love for the game is fueled by the fact that I have been quite successful thus far; I have managed to make money on every game I have played but one - definitely an incentive to continue. Hopefully, whatever my living situation next year, I will be able to get some guys together for a regular game.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Dentists
Ever see the movie marathon man? There is this fantastically disturbing torture scene in which a Nazi concentration camp dentist uses his tools to sadistically torture a 'patient'.
I feel like the victim every time I sit on the chair.
In fact, my hatred, fear and loathing of dentists is so extreme that I am certain it is impossible to capture the intensity of my emotions in a blog entry. Unfortunately, it seems as though every summer I have to undergo some type of serious procedure...last summer, it was the wisdom teeth, and yesterday it was three fillings - brutal.
I really just want to bitch here to let out some of my frustration. My jaw is killing me from having to hold it open for over an hour and a half yesterday; my teeth are uneven so it feels weird whenever I chew or clamp my mouth (I get to have that adjusted tomorrow morning - oh joy!); one of my teeth is super-sensitive because, apparently, the dentist did not give me enough 'filling'; and I am still in a horrendous mood from the anesthetic, which always has a remarkably negative effect on me.
I have vowed to try everything possible to avoid having to get a filling ever again.
I feel like the victim every time I sit on the chair.
In fact, my hatred, fear and loathing of dentists is so extreme that I am certain it is impossible to capture the intensity of my emotions in a blog entry. Unfortunately, it seems as though every summer I have to undergo some type of serious procedure...last summer, it was the wisdom teeth, and yesterday it was three fillings - brutal.
I really just want to bitch here to let out some of my frustration. My jaw is killing me from having to hold it open for over an hour and a half yesterday; my teeth are uneven so it feels weird whenever I chew or clamp my mouth (I get to have that adjusted tomorrow morning - oh joy!); one of my teeth is super-sensitive because, apparently, the dentist did not give me enough 'filling'; and I am still in a horrendous mood from the anesthetic, which always has a remarkably negative effect on me.
I have vowed to try everything possible to avoid having to get a filling ever again.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Nightmares
I am not sure if I have been blessed with a single night's good sleep since I came back to Calgary, and I have no idea why. A big part of it is that I am simply uncomfortable in my Calgary bed all by myself after having been used to Angelica right next to me. Another factor could be the summer temperature without a/c. But in Canada, you say? I know, maddening but true.
I think the worst part is probably the disturbingly graphic and vivid nightmares that are haunting my subconscious every night. It's crazy - I don't think I've ever had dreams as bad as this in my life, let alone in nightly sequences that don't seem to let up. Take last night for example - a series of countless decapitations, interspersed with images of some woman who in reality I don't know, who in the dreamworld was supposed to be my friend, but who was actually changing into some kind of demonic minion before - you guessed it - more decapitations.
Maybe it's stress related.
I think the worst part is probably the disturbingly graphic and vivid nightmares that are haunting my subconscious every night. It's crazy - I don't think I've ever had dreams as bad as this in my life, let alone in nightly sequences that don't seem to let up. Take last night for example - a series of countless decapitations, interspersed with images of some woman who in reality I don't know, who in the dreamworld was supposed to be my friend, but who was actually changing into some kind of demonic minion before - you guessed it - more decapitations.
Maybe it's stress related.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Rave
I have realized that I did not post on the very interesting experience I had over the weekend, so I had better say something now.
I was enthusiastic, before and afterwards, about the opportunity to experience something that Matt has held so close to his heart and beliefs. What was it? A gigantic rave, in the middle of a valley in Northern Alberta (1 hour West of Edmonton, to be exact) - basically a huge party.
We arrived relatively late, but managed to find a vacant space on the grass for our small tent, relatively close to the main trance stage and directly opposite "Fort Jagermeister". Matt felt that this would be the redeeming part of the weekend for me, as I am hardly a druggie raver, but definitely a frat boy, and FJ definitely did seem to have some of the frat boy mentality (read: alcohol).
Interestingly, the initially endearing FJ became a incessant source of annoyance for us over the course of the weekend, with an English idiot camping himself atop one of the towers for most of the time screaming "Oi!" and shooting people with water guns. Fine when we were not around; not fine when we were trying to sleep during the only parts of the day when trance music was not pumping through the valley (9am - 2pm).
I had more fun dancing, meeting people, simply witnessing the bizarre microcosmic cultures that permeated the event, and, of course, diminishing entirely the stock of 72 beers that Matt and I had brought for the weekend. We also met some very cool people, with whom I know at least Matt will keep in touch. I was impressed with myself for dancing past dawn on the last night of the party - everyone else was doing it, and I did not want to admit to having less stamina.
But, of course, the ride home was brutal. We packed up at around noon, said goodbye to the people we had met, and then began the long drive back to Calgary. There have not been many times in my life when I have been as tired. After one hour we pulled over on the outskirts of Edmonton and slept in the car, in a parking lot. The we stumbled into Tim Horton's, ate, drank lots of coffee, and kept ourselves awake for the next three hours by conversationally exploring the nature of religion, morality, and sin.
Good times.
I was enthusiastic, before and afterwards, about the opportunity to experience something that Matt has held so close to his heart and beliefs. What was it? A gigantic rave, in the middle of a valley in Northern Alberta (1 hour West of Edmonton, to be exact) - basically a huge party.
We arrived relatively late, but managed to find a vacant space on the grass for our small tent, relatively close to the main trance stage and directly opposite "Fort Jagermeister". Matt felt that this would be the redeeming part of the weekend for me, as I am hardly a druggie raver, but definitely a frat boy, and FJ definitely did seem to have some of the frat boy mentality (read: alcohol).
Interestingly, the initially endearing FJ became a incessant source of annoyance for us over the course of the weekend, with an English idiot camping himself atop one of the towers for most of the time screaming "Oi!" and shooting people with water guns. Fine when we were not around; not fine when we were trying to sleep during the only parts of the day when trance music was not pumping through the valley (9am - 2pm).
I had more fun dancing, meeting people, simply witnessing the bizarre microcosmic cultures that permeated the event, and, of course, diminishing entirely the stock of 72 beers that Matt and I had brought for the weekend. We also met some very cool people, with whom I know at least Matt will keep in touch. I was impressed with myself for dancing past dawn on the last night of the party - everyone else was doing it, and I did not want to admit to having less stamina.
But, of course, the ride home was brutal. We packed up at around noon, said goodbye to the people we had met, and then began the long drive back to Calgary. There have not been many times in my life when I have been as tired. After one hour we pulled over on the outskirts of Edmonton and slept in the car, in a parking lot. The we stumbled into Tim Horton's, ate, drank lots of coffee, and kept ourselves awake for the next three hours by conversationally exploring the nature of religion, morality, and sin.
Good times.
Complicated
Life can get so, so complicated. I really am not sure how I am going to sort out the next month or so. I have to visit Angelica during the first half of August before she flies half-way around the world, and hopefully go to a medieval festival with her that she usually goes to every summer. Timing is awkward, though.
Her sister is getting married on the first weekend of August, which means either I miss the wedding and meet her sometime afterwards, or go to the wedding but have to make my own way from wherever I fly into. Additionally, my Dad has planned a family backpacking trip during the first week of August, that I cannot miss (last chance family bonding), but which is also right before the arrival of my aunt who is visiting us from Vancouver.
Timing is not the only issue though. I need to take enough time off during my trip down to try and do some apartment searching in DC - under the presumption that I will, eventually, sign a contract with the IFC. It does not help that, despite having formally given me my offer, they cannot give me an official start date until I get my G-4 visa...which will take "4 to 6 weeks". So I will probably be signing a contract on an apartment for the beginning of September despite not knowing when my start date is. And this lack of knowledge, of course, makes planning my eventual 'move' to DC rather difficult.
Finally, there is the cost. I'll be buying a return flight to DC to visit Angelica, spending on lodging in DC while I search for an apartment, and foregoing potential $ by taking time off work. Then I will be flying back to DC at the end of the summer, for which, by the way, I am unable to give my current boss advance warning on my contract termination since I don't have an official start date.
Yes, complicated. I'll just have to go with the flow. Angelica gave me some peppermint tea which should help to destress me.
Her sister is getting married on the first weekend of August, which means either I miss the wedding and meet her sometime afterwards, or go to the wedding but have to make my own way from wherever I fly into. Additionally, my Dad has planned a family backpacking trip during the first week of August, that I cannot miss (last chance family bonding), but which is also right before the arrival of my aunt who is visiting us from Vancouver.
Timing is not the only issue though. I need to take enough time off during my trip down to try and do some apartment searching in DC - under the presumption that I will, eventually, sign a contract with the IFC. It does not help that, despite having formally given me my offer, they cannot give me an official start date until I get my G-4 visa...which will take "4 to 6 weeks". So I will probably be signing a contract on an apartment for the beginning of September despite not knowing when my start date is. And this lack of knowledge, of course, makes planning my eventual 'move' to DC rather difficult.
Finally, there is the cost. I'll be buying a return flight to DC to visit Angelica, spending on lodging in DC while I search for an apartment, and foregoing potential $ by taking time off work. Then I will be flying back to DC at the end of the summer, for which, by the way, I am unable to give my current boss advance warning on my contract termination since I don't have an official start date.
Yes, complicated. I'll just have to go with the flow. Angelica gave me some peppermint tea which should help to destress me.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Stampede!
I have been unabashedly delinquent in my updating duties to this blog, and largely because of the wonderful phenomenon of Stampede. Many of the people reading this blog are not local Calgarian cowpokes, so perhaps a bit of an explanation is in order.
Stampede is the greatest outdoor show on Earth. For 12 cahootin' days, the entire city of Calgary becomes a gigantic beer garden with the world's largest rodeo at its center. The corporate workforce of the oil industry is expected (you are frowned upon if you don't) to come into work wearing their finest cowboy hats and boots, and anything more formal than jeans is considered bad taste.
I say come into work. But you don't really work. Work serves as a meeting point for everyone at the beginning of the day so that they can plan out how, where, and with which company's money they are going to party. It's fantastic. The plethora of country music that is playing all over the city becomes tolerable even to me as I give in to the cowboy spirit. Free meat-and-pancake breakfasts abound in the downtown area, and it becomes possible to avoid having to pay for food for a week. And you can wash down those AAA Alberta stakes with, of course, copious amounts of alcohol.
Last night I had a fantastic time at Nashville North (a gigantic beer garden cum dance tent) with some of my coworkers. It was the first opportunity I have had this summer to really get to know them outside of the corporate context, and they are great people. Turns out one of them was even a Brown graduate with whom I could reminisce over frat-boy experiences.
It was almost a perfect night, but for three things. 1) My far-away girlfriend, who I think would look gorgeous in a cowgirl outfit and who could laugh at me trying to quickstep to country music (I miss you Angelica!); 2) my far-away college friends, who I could see quickly becoming the rowdiest cowboys around, and 3) the morning after, which was, of course, a brutal hangover recovery period.
I'm almost completely recovered.
Stampede is the greatest outdoor show on Earth. For 12 cahootin' days, the entire city of Calgary becomes a gigantic beer garden with the world's largest rodeo at its center. The corporate workforce of the oil industry is expected (you are frowned upon if you don't) to come into work wearing their finest cowboy hats and boots, and anything more formal than jeans is considered bad taste.
I say come into work. But you don't really work. Work serves as a meeting point for everyone at the beginning of the day so that they can plan out how, where, and with which company's money they are going to party. It's fantastic. The plethora of country music that is playing all over the city becomes tolerable even to me as I give in to the cowboy spirit. Free meat-and-pancake breakfasts abound in the downtown area, and it becomes possible to avoid having to pay for food for a week. And you can wash down those AAA Alberta stakes with, of course, copious amounts of alcohol.
Last night I had a fantastic time at Nashville North (a gigantic beer garden cum dance tent) with some of my coworkers. It was the first opportunity I have had this summer to really get to know them outside of the corporate context, and they are great people. Turns out one of them was even a Brown graduate with whom I could reminisce over frat-boy experiences.
It was almost a perfect night, but for three things. 1) My far-away girlfriend, who I think would look gorgeous in a cowgirl outfit and who could laugh at me trying to quickstep to country music (I miss you Angelica!); 2) my far-away college friends, who I could see quickly becoming the rowdiest cowboys around, and 3) the morning after, which was, of course, a brutal hangover recovery period.
I'm almost completely recovered.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Sweetness
I have not posted on here for a while, because I have been emotionally reeling after having heard that the World Bank is "going to give me an offer", which should hopefully be received by telephone call tomorrow. I have also been lazier, which may be a direct consequence of the increased beer consumption that immediately followed this news.
It has made me very, very happy to hear that my future may not be as empty an directionless as I once suspected, and that my risky investment in an ivy league education has hopefully paid off. I still felt bizarre, however, announcing my good fortune to others because the offer itself has not "been made" yet. Hopefully after tomorrow that will have changed. Despite the confidence I have in the 'warning' of an offer I was given, I won't be entirely satisfied until I have the contractual paper in my hands, signed in ink. Until then, I still feel as though nothing is certain.
Which is, perhaps, inescapable in life.
It has made me very, very happy to hear that my future may not be as empty an directionless as I once suspected, and that my risky investment in an ivy league education has hopefully paid off. I still felt bizarre, however, announcing my good fortune to others because the offer itself has not "been made" yet. Hopefully after tomorrow that will have changed. Despite the confidence I have in the 'warning' of an offer I was given, I won't be entirely satisfied until I have the contractual paper in my hands, signed in ink. Until then, I still feel as though nothing is certain.
Which is, perhaps, inescapable in life.
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