.JPG)
I have just returned home from a one-day chess tournament, the same venue that was the subject of my February 1st post "The Weekend's Battles." In that post I wrote about a disappointing tournament, and ended the entry with the words, "I'll do better next time."
Alas, my prognostication skills were evidently a bit off. Today was disappointing indeed, partly because my expectations were high: I was the fourth highest rated player in a field of twenty-one, with no one rated much above me. And the day got off to a good start: victories in my first two games against lower-rated players.
Alas, two games and two losses later (against good players, yes, but no one I shouldn't be competitive against), and I'm left wondering where my once proud chess skills have gone. This month has seen a major period of personal self-improvement, and I confess to having had a certain fantasy that such work would magically translate into increased over-the-board chess prowess--into a better, smarter, more powerful castlerook. So far, that does not appear to be the case.
On the other hand, today's tournament was eseentially a warm-up for a much larger tournament that I'll be playing in next weekend. I've had my wake up call--my game is not where it needs to be.
I have a week to figure out why.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Lent
The practice of giving something up for Lent has never really been part of my religious tradition. Once or twice in my life I have attempted some sort of self-denial this time of year, but been generally unsuccessful. The past few months, though, I've become aware of a personal need for greater self-discipline, and I've decided that this Lenten season is as good a time as any to start.
So, here it is: I'm giving up meat.
In truth, for some time now I've been somewhat uncomfortable with eating meat. The life of an animal bred with the purpose of one day being sold at a grocery store is an ugly one indeed. And yet, I really like meat. Especially chicken. And burgers. And so I've usually managed to sweep away those nagging questions in the back of my mind, asking: "Where does your food come from? Do you know? Do you care?"
"How do you feel about the fast-food burger in front you coming at the expense of an animal's life?"
Now, there may be good answers to these questions. But I don't have them, and for years I've avoided listening to these questions precisely because I haven't had an answer.
And so, while the moral questions regarding our relationship with the earth and its other inhabitants are far too complex for me to answer, I'm hoping that my current experiment may help me better understand the dilemma. For now I'm allowing myself fish, though I've never been much of a seafood eater--still, having such an option makes the prospect less intimidating.
In the ensuing weeks, I'll try to better examine my feelings regarding eating meat, and also monitor what effects this dietary change may have on me personally.
Wish me luck.
So, here it is: I'm giving up meat.
In truth, for some time now I've been somewhat uncomfortable with eating meat. The life of an animal bred with the purpose of one day being sold at a grocery store is an ugly one indeed. And yet, I really like meat. Especially chicken. And burgers. And so I've usually managed to sweep away those nagging questions in the back of my mind, asking: "Where does your food come from? Do you know? Do you care?"
"How do you feel about the fast-food burger in front you coming at the expense of an animal's life?"
Now, there may be good answers to these questions. But I don't have them, and for years I've avoided listening to these questions precisely because I haven't had an answer.
And so, while the moral questions regarding our relationship with the earth and its other inhabitants are far too complex for me to answer, I'm hoping that my current experiment may help me better understand the dilemma. For now I'm allowing myself fish, though I've never been much of a seafood eater--still, having such an option makes the prospect less intimidating.
In the ensuing weeks, I'll try to better examine my feelings regarding eating meat, and also monitor what effects this dietary change may have on me personally.
Wish me luck.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself."
Let me tell you about two people I know: "Dave" and "David."
Dave is a charming, fun-loving kind of guy who strives to live life to the fullest. He is a talented singer and actor. He listens to classic rock. At a party, he's usually one of the last to leave. He finds it difficult to settle down and focus on a particular task. He is something of a spiritual mystic, and often attends neopagan rituals.
David is an instrospective, serious-minded individual. He teaches and tutors math. He listens to classical music. Generally shy, he's the sort of person who doesn't get out much. He plays chess and can easily focus on a position for long periods of time. He is religious, and recently became an elder in the Presbyterian Church.
Both Dave and David are, of course, myself. And individually, each of them does pretty well.
The hard part is getting them to communicate with each other.
Dave is a charming, fun-loving kind of guy who strives to live life to the fullest. He is a talented singer and actor. He listens to classic rock. At a party, he's usually one of the last to leave. He finds it difficult to settle down and focus on a particular task. He is something of a spiritual mystic, and often attends neopagan rituals.
David is an instrospective, serious-minded individual. He teaches and tutors math. He listens to classical music. Generally shy, he's the sort of person who doesn't get out much. He plays chess and can easily focus on a position for long periods of time. He is religious, and recently became an elder in the Presbyterian Church.
Both Dave and David are, of course, myself. And individually, each of them does pretty well.
The hard part is getting them to communicate with each other.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Substitute Teaching
I pause outside the classroom door before entering and take a deep breath. What will this group of students be like? Eager to learn, or resistant to knowledge of any sort? And what sort of substitute teacher are they expecting?
Whatever the answer to that last question, I'm probably not it. I take a certain pride in this knowledge as I stride into the classroom with my shaggy hair and black leather jacket, maintaining an air of nonchalance even as I can almost hear the students thinking, "Wait . . . he's our substitute?"
The couple of minutes before class officially starts are always the most awkward, and so I pretend to be busy looking over my notes while I secretly gauge the energy of the room. The vibe I get is generally positive. Good. I look up, meeting their now expectant gazes, and flash a brief smile as if to say, "No, I'm not the dreary middle-aged guy you were all probably expecting. Cool, huh?"
I take attendance and start talking about the topic of the day, logarithms, all the while monitoring my connection with the class and striving to maintain it. Am I moving too quickly? Too slowly? If I lose them for a minute, it can be difficult to get them back. It's just like being on stage.
Scratch that. It is being on stage.
The class goes well. Of course, a handful of students never take any notes or show any interest whatsoever, but most do. More importantly, I get the impression that at least some of those who do show interest normally don't.
The class ends, the students leave, and I am left in the classroom, alone. I'm really good at this, I think to myself. A tiny but persistent voice somewhere asks, "so why not do this full-time?"
But I know the answer immediately: because experience has taught me all too well that if I were to do this for an extended period of time, removing the word "substitute" from my current designation, then whatever quality it is that makes me a particularly good teacher would fade away, and I would become that very stereotype which I now happily defy. I know that as soon as it ceases to be a role and becomes a defining feature of my existence, a vital part of myself is lost.
In truth, it's easy to be the cool young teacher when you don't have the responsibility of being available to the students having problems, of grading all of the homeworks and tests, and of ultimately failing those students who don't succeed.
And so I leave the classroom and the building, shedding my "math teacher" persona as I walk to my car, knowing that I can call upon it again when necessary.
In the meantime, I have other roles to play.
Whatever the answer to that last question, I'm probably not it. I take a certain pride in this knowledge as I stride into the classroom with my shaggy hair and black leather jacket, maintaining an air of nonchalance even as I can almost hear the students thinking, "Wait . . . he's our substitute?"
The couple of minutes before class officially starts are always the most awkward, and so I pretend to be busy looking over my notes while I secretly gauge the energy of the room. The vibe I get is generally positive. Good. I look up, meeting their now expectant gazes, and flash a brief smile as if to say, "No, I'm not the dreary middle-aged guy you were all probably expecting. Cool, huh?"
I take attendance and start talking about the topic of the day, logarithms, all the while monitoring my connection with the class and striving to maintain it. Am I moving too quickly? Too slowly? If I lose them for a minute, it can be difficult to get them back. It's just like being on stage.
Scratch that. It is being on stage.
The class goes well. Of course, a handful of students never take any notes or show any interest whatsoever, but most do. More importantly, I get the impression that at least some of those who do show interest normally don't.
The class ends, the students leave, and I am left in the classroom, alone. I'm really good at this, I think to myself. A tiny but persistent voice somewhere asks, "so why not do this full-time?"
But I know the answer immediately: because experience has taught me all too well that if I were to do this for an extended period of time, removing the word "substitute" from my current designation, then whatever quality it is that makes me a particularly good teacher would fade away, and I would become that very stereotype which I now happily defy. I know that as soon as it ceases to be a role and becomes a defining feature of my existence, a vital part of myself is lost.
In truth, it's easy to be the cool young teacher when you don't have the responsibility of being available to the students having problems, of grading all of the homeworks and tests, and of ultimately failing those students who don't succeed.
And so I leave the classroom and the building, shedding my "math teacher" persona as I walk to my car, knowing that I can call upon it again when necessary.
In the meantime, I have other roles to play.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How it ends?
The "$0.10 buy-in, turbo No Limit Hold’em tournaments" worked like this: 360 players, first place prize $8.50, 2nd place $6.00, 3rd place $4.00, and so on, down to 27th-36th winning $0.20.
And a new tournament began every few minutes.
I was well aware, of course, that I was "supposed" to play for a while, lose my dollar, but then become so enamored with the experience of playing real money online poker that I'd deposit more money. And if I lost that, well, I could only win it back by depositing more, right?
I had no intention of being one of those people though. If I lost my dollar, so be it.
I had mixed results at first, rather like my attempts at the casino. I'd fail to get in the money in a couple times, then I'd win twenty or thirty cents, then lose some more. In tournaments, as opposed to "standard" poker, most of the time you're going to lose your entry fee. Soon my original dollar was down to thirty cents.
I was frustrated. Only three buy-ins left. I took a break for a couple weeks. I re-read my poker books. When I returned, I felt ready.
I entered a tournament, and lost ten cents. Thanks to some bad cards, I never had much of a chance.
I entered another. Lost again.
Only ten cents left. Well, I said to myself, this is it. If I lose, I'm done--it means this just isn't the game for me.
The next tournament did not begin well. Bad cards after bad cards . . . soon I had only half of my original chips left.
But I didn't give up. Patience, I told myself. Eventually some good cards came, I made a couple key bluffs when I was confident another player had nothing, a good break here and there and . . . I finished third.
Third! I had just turned ten cents into four dollars.
The breakthrough had come. A few tournaments later, I finished first. Suddently my PokerStars account had over ten dollars.
Soon I was moving up from the ten-cent buy-in tournaments to the one-dollar buy-ins, and kept winning.
And winning.
In January, when my account rose over $150, I decided to make sure that I could actually, like, get the money. I "cashed out" for half of my winnings, $75, and sure enough a check came in the mail a few days later.
Sweet.
Hmm.
A long-dormant voice (perhaps the "Angel" from two posts ago) awoke in my consciousness, saying, "Dude. Can you, like, hear yourself? I mean, seriously."
To which I could only respond, "Yeah, I hear myself. And no, I don't like it either."
Something was wrong.
I got out my Tarot cards and did a reading, trying to figure out what was going on. Of particular note was that the "crossing card," representing my current challenge, was . . . The Devil.
Hmmmm.
I logged back onto PokerStars and went to their "Responsible Gaming" menu (a feature I must give PokerStars real props for having) and requested a 7-day self-exclusion from playing.
Since that time, I've felt . . . free.
Which brings us to the present. I'm about to do something, which, quite frankly, has been difficult. I'm logging onto PokerStars and clicking on "Cashier."
I have just over $175 at present. Add that to the $75 I've already cashed, and that's $250, all starting with the single dollar I started with three-and-a-half months ago.
It more than makes up for the money I lost at the casino.
Perhaps it's, well . . . enough.
Deep breath.
"Cash out."
Done.
Account Status: $0.00.
Goodbye, PokerStars. Hello, world.
And a new tournament began every few minutes.
I was well aware, of course, that I was "supposed" to play for a while, lose my dollar, but then become so enamored with the experience of playing real money online poker that I'd deposit more money. And if I lost that, well, I could only win it back by depositing more, right?
I had no intention of being one of those people though. If I lost my dollar, so be it.
I had mixed results at first, rather like my attempts at the casino. I'd fail to get in the money in a couple times, then I'd win twenty or thirty cents, then lose some more. In tournaments, as opposed to "standard" poker, most of the time you're going to lose your entry fee. Soon my original dollar was down to thirty cents.
I was frustrated. Only three buy-ins left. I took a break for a couple weeks. I re-read my poker books. When I returned, I felt ready.
I entered a tournament, and lost ten cents. Thanks to some bad cards, I never had much of a chance.
I entered another. Lost again.
Only ten cents left. Well, I said to myself, this is it. If I lose, I'm done--it means this just isn't the game for me.
The next tournament did not begin well. Bad cards after bad cards . . . soon I had only half of my original chips left.
But I didn't give up. Patience, I told myself. Eventually some good cards came, I made a couple key bluffs when I was confident another player had nothing, a good break here and there and . . . I finished third.
Third! I had just turned ten cents into four dollars.
The breakthrough had come. A few tournaments later, I finished first. Suddently my PokerStars account had over ten dollars.
Soon I was moving up from the ten-cent buy-in tournaments to the one-dollar buy-ins, and kept winning.
And winning.
In January, when my account rose over $150, I decided to make sure that I could actually, like, get the money. I "cashed out" for half of my winnings, $75, and sure enough a check came in the mail a few days later.
Sweet.
I kept playing. Kept winning.
However, before you start sending all sorts of congratulatory comments my way, you should know that underneath all of this success, there's a problem, and it's a problem that it's taken me a while to be able to admit.
I have been playing way too much online poker.
As in, several hours a day of online poker.
Last Friday I got a call offering me some substitute teaching opportunities a couple weeks hence. I was, at the time, in the middle of a poker tournament, and I continued to play during the course of the conversation. I accepted the offer but hung up the phone thinking, Damnit. This will give me less time for online poker.Hmm.
A long-dormant voice (perhaps the "Angel" from two posts ago) awoke in my consciousness, saying, "Dude. Can you, like, hear yourself? I mean, seriously."
To which I could only respond, "Yeah, I hear myself. And no, I don't like it either."
Something was wrong.
I got out my Tarot cards and did a reading, trying to figure out what was going on. Of particular note was that the "crossing card," representing my current challenge, was . . . The Devil.
Hmmmm.
I logged back onto PokerStars and went to their "Responsible Gaming" menu (a feature I must give PokerStars real props for having) and requested a 7-day self-exclusion from playing.
Since that time, I've felt . . . free.
Which brings us to the present. I'm about to do something, which, quite frankly, has been difficult. I'm logging onto PokerStars and clicking on "Cashier."
I have just over $175 at present. Add that to the $75 I've already cashed, and that's $250, all starting with the single dollar I started with three-and-a-half months ago.
It more than makes up for the money I lost at the casino.
Perhaps it's, well . . . enough.
Deep breath.
"Cash out."
Done.
Account Status: $0.00.
Goodbye, PokerStars. Hello, world.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Yep. That's "how it starts."
As will probably come as no surprise, in the previous post's argument between "Angel" and "Devil," Angel never really stood a chance. I was back at the casino a few weeks later, and lost the $100 that I had won. But I still had my original $100, so I went back and . . . won! More specifically, I won about $80. Then I went back and . . . lost.
This back-and-forth continued until soon, after a couple consecutive losses, I was down $120, my original and beloved one-hundred-dollar bill (plus a bit extra) gone forever. At this point, I had the good sense to quit while I was only somewhat behind, deciding that given my lack of full-time employment, poker-playing at the casino was perhaps not the most responsible hobby. I resolved to go to the casino no more, at least until such time as some major chess victory gave me a sufficient "poker budget."
In the meantime, I resolved to try and figure out the secrets of this game, whose siren call has already claimed many talented chessplayers. I purchased a couple poker books and practiced with play money on PokerStars, amassing lots and lots of useless (or so I thought) play money chips.
Then in October I received the following e-mail from Pokerstars.com:
Dear castlerook,
We’ve been watching you win big at the play money Sit N Go Tournaments and we think that you’re ready for real money play.
In fact, we believe it so much that we’re giving you $1 in real money FOR FREE to try our real money tournaments. The cash is already in your account, so you can login and hit the tables right away.
Play in our $0.10 buy-in, turbo No Limit Hold’em tournaments. Go on, test your skills at the real money tables today - it’s a whole new level of excitement!
The $1 is only available for ten days, so we encourage you to take advantage of it before it expires. Once you play with it though, it’s yours to keep forever – no deposit necessary.
To access the $1 you will need to download the enhanced version of our software
If you have any questions or need any assistance, please contact us at support@pokerstars.com
Play well!
The PokerStars Team
Wow. Was this for real? Turns out it was. Soon I was playing online poker for real money, without having to deposit a cent.
What happened then?
Fear not, faithful reader; you'll find out soon enough.
This back-and-forth continued until soon, after a couple consecutive losses, I was down $120, my original and beloved one-hundred-dollar bill (plus a bit extra) gone forever. At this point, I had the good sense to quit while I was only somewhat behind, deciding that given my lack of full-time employment, poker-playing at the casino was perhaps not the most responsible hobby. I resolved to go to the casino no more, at least until such time as some major chess victory gave me a sufficient "poker budget."
In the meantime, I resolved to try and figure out the secrets of this game, whose siren call has already claimed many talented chessplayers. I purchased a couple poker books and practiced with play money on PokerStars, amassing lots and lots of useless (or so I thought) play money chips.
Then in October I received the following e-mail from Pokerstars.com:
Dear castlerook,
We’ve been watching you win big at the play money Sit N Go Tournaments and we think that you’re ready for real money play.
In fact, we believe it so much that we’re giving you $1 in real money FOR FREE to try our real money tournaments. The cash is already in your account, so you can login and hit the tables right away.
Play in our $0.10 buy-in, turbo No Limit Hold’em tournaments. Go on, test your skills at the real money tables today - it’s a whole new level of excitement!
The $1 is only available for ten days, so we encourage you to take advantage of it before it expires. Once you play with it though, it’s yours to keep forever – no deposit necessary.
To access the $1 you will need to download the enhanced version of our software
If you have any questions or need any assistance, please contact us at support@pokerstars.com
Play well!
The PokerStars Team
Wow. Was this for real? Turns out it was. Soon I was playing online poker for real money, without having to deposit a cent.
What happened then?
Fear not, faithful reader; you'll find out soon enough.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
A Lucrative Birthday . . . Is this how it starts?
I wrote the following for the (now-defunct) website thisisby.us last June. I'm posting it here primarily to give some context for a future post, to appear sometime in the next couple of days.
Yesterday was my birthday. A few days ago, when my wife asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday, I thought for a bit, and then surprised both myself and her when I answered, "I want to go to the casino and play poker."
This was surprising because, even though for years I have lived fairly close to a prominent Native American casino/resort, I have never before felt the urge to go there and throw away my money.*
*Okay, so there was the one time I quickly blew some cash on one of those evil money-sucking machine things, but that was when I was performing in a show there and so I was already on the premises, and it just sort of, well, happened.
In recent months, though, I've been playing online poker for fun, and amassed a fairly impressive amount of online play money, and so I was curious as to whether I could, like, play real poker. With real people, and real money.
I figured a birthday was a good excuse to do something foolhardy. What's more, I recently won a bit over a hundred dollars at a local chess tournament, so I figured I could take that one-hundred-dollar bill* as my budget, and if I lost it, well, no big.
*I'm not used to having one-hundred-dollar bills. When I won the chess tournament and the tournament director handed me a one-hundred-dollar bill, I was like, wow, a one-hundred-dollar bill. It's, like, got Ben Franklin on it and everything. And he played chess too. Dude.
To make a long story short, I took my one-hundred-dollar bill to the No-Limit Hold 'Em poker tables last night, fully prepared to lose it all and thereby extinguish this strange new gambling urge I seem to have developed.
Except, I didn't lose it. I doubled my money. I now have not one, but two, one-hundred-dollar bills.
Now I'm in trouble.
I went to sleep last night amidst daydreams of various poker hands, envisioning scenarios in which I won lots more money. When I awoke this morning I was still dreaming of poker hands, so presumably my subconscious mind was playing poker all night long. It won lots and lots of poker chips, and now it wants me to do the same.
I have two mythical creatures on my shoulders, and they're having a dialogue.
Devil: Come on, you know you want to go back to the casino. Think of all the money you could win!
Angel: No, that was a one-time, birthday thing. Quit while you're ahead.
Devil: Aw, come on. You're good at this! You're not going to lose.
Angel: Hold on there, pal. Remember that you almost lost your entire hundred and were saved only by a good card on the turn.
Devil: It was your first time out, and you did great! Next time you'll do even better. Keep at it and you'll never have to work a real job again!
Angel: Greed is your enemy. That way leads to the dark side.
Me: My angel is Yoda?
I cannot yet tell which metaphysical force will win this argument. For now, I'll leave them to it and focus on my chess game. The chess World Open is less than two weeks away, and I'm playing.
But, yeah. I won a hundred dollars at the poker tables on my birthday yesterday.
How cool is that?
Yesterday was my birthday. A few days ago, when my wife asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday, I thought for a bit, and then surprised both myself and her when I answered, "I want to go to the casino and play poker."
This was surprising because, even though for years I have lived fairly close to a prominent Native American casino/resort, I have never before felt the urge to go there and throw away my money.*
*Okay, so there was the one time I quickly blew some cash on one of those evil money-sucking machine things, but that was when I was performing in a show there and so I was already on the premises, and it just sort of, well, happened.
In recent months, though, I've been playing online poker for fun, and amassed a fairly impressive amount of online play money, and so I was curious as to whether I could, like, play real poker. With real people, and real money.
I figured a birthday was a good excuse to do something foolhardy. What's more, I recently won a bit over a hundred dollars at a local chess tournament, so I figured I could take that one-hundred-dollar bill* as my budget, and if I lost it, well, no big.
*I'm not used to having one-hundred-dollar bills. When I won the chess tournament and the tournament director handed me a one-hundred-dollar bill, I was like, wow, a one-hundred-dollar bill. It's, like, got Ben Franklin on it and everything. And he played chess too. Dude.
To make a long story short, I took my one-hundred-dollar bill to the No-Limit Hold 'Em poker tables last night, fully prepared to lose it all and thereby extinguish this strange new gambling urge I seem to have developed.
Except, I didn't lose it. I doubled my money. I now have not one, but two, one-hundred-dollar bills.
Now I'm in trouble.
I went to sleep last night amidst daydreams of various poker hands, envisioning scenarios in which I won lots more money. When I awoke this morning I was still dreaming of poker hands, so presumably my subconscious mind was playing poker all night long. It won lots and lots of poker chips, and now it wants me to do the same.
I have two mythical creatures on my shoulders, and they're having a dialogue.
Devil: Come on, you know you want to go back to the casino. Think of all the money you could win!
Angel: No, that was a one-time, birthday thing. Quit while you're ahead.
Devil: Aw, come on. You're good at this! You're not going to lose.
Angel: Hold on there, pal. Remember that you almost lost your entire hundred and were saved only by a good card on the turn.
Devil: It was your first time out, and you did great! Next time you'll do even better. Keep at it and you'll never have to work a real job again!
Angel: Greed is your enemy. That way leads to the dark side.
Me: My angel is Yoda?
I cannot yet tell which metaphysical force will win this argument. For now, I'll leave them to it and focus on my chess game. The chess World Open is less than two weeks away, and I'm playing.
But, yeah. I won a hundred dollars at the poker tables on my birthday yesterday.
How cool is that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)