Hold 'em. Fold 'em. Walk away. Run.

Alright. I started playing poker because it gave me something to do on Sunday nights. Just a half-dozen guys that I know, some chips, a soda or two, and if I was lucky, I'd recoup my entry fee ($5).

Well, that was like that a month or two ago. One night we were short some people, so I rang my buddy Joe. (Joe's not his real name, just in case anyone at my poker game reads my blog.) Joe came along, fit in, and did well. The week after that, one of the guys, Phil (also not Phil's name) invited one of his roommates because we were playing at Phil's place. We had a nice, comfortable eight people and it was all good. Phil's roomie seemed like a nice guy, and the game went smoothly, even if I didn't get my five bucks back.

Fast forward to today. I call around, and we're having poker, even though it's Memorial Day. I figured a small turnout. Nope. Now it's eleven people, most of whom I don't know, including an apparent card shark who likes to belittle the people he beats. Joe's bringing a friend, even though we had a full table with him, so now it's two tables, one inside and one on the patio...

Now, I can understand if people have fun together, then more people having fun is generally a good thing. But, if I'm deriving my fun from the fact that it's a small gathering of my friends, and now it's a bunch of people I don't know, then I might as well play in the Monday night tourneys at Old Chicago.

At least it's free.

-D out.

Insert befuddled blinking here.

I watched Jin-Roh the other night.

Man, that made no sense.

-D out.

Exhale, exhale, exhale.

I finally figured something out about myself that I think was a long time coming. You see, I've never really been able to excel at anything, and I know why. At an early age, I was reading well above my age level, and it was obvious (at least to me anyways) that I was much smarter than
kids my own age. Do you see where this is going? From an early age, I was told I was smart, and that I could accomplish anything. And honestly, I had the smarts and the ability to do so. I'm sure I could have even had a career as an athlete, if I had put the training necessary into it. Here's where it all went awry. I figured that my innate ability was enough by itself. I didn't need to go to school, or practice anything. I just always assumed I'd succeed at anything I wanted to, from the outset, without having to try. So, imagine my surprise when I couldn't ride a skateboard, much less pull off any freaky trick you see on the X-Games. And when I sat down at a poker table, thinking I'd run everyone out of their shorts? Yeah. They read me like a bad Tom Clancy novel. I don't think I need to relate my experiences cooking.

Is it too late for me to change? Can I pick myself up, dust myself off, get on with my life and finally accomplish something more that getting by? Or have I been too cowed by my first failures that I'm content to stagnate, while all the while beating myself about the head, wondering why I haven't gone anywhere? Hmm.

-D out.