Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Reading the signs

I spent much of Sunday running around like a headless chicken, not achieving a whole lot. I spoke to my grandmother (she was going to have her pacemaker replaced), checked the stuff I was selling on TradeMe for Julie, went to the market, emailed my brother, had a bite to eat, then helped Julie move some stuff into her new flat. I did my ironing and sat down in front of the computer to play a badugi tournament. At 11pm, after six hours, I was eliminated in 18th place out of nearly 4000. In that time I spoke to Mum and Dad on the phone – “yes it sounds like you’ve had gorgeous weather down there; [I’ll dump the jack] it’s been sunny here too but a bit cold; [ooh this one’s marginal, I think I’ll just fold] I’ve been really needing that fan heater.” I even managed to cook and eat a meal while playing. Half an hour into the tournament I was dealt a nine badugi and bet it aggressively, but no matter how much I bet people would call me, even with two-card draws. All my chips ended up in the middle, and in a four-way pot there was a good chance that someone would beat me. In hindsight I wish somebody did.

I took Monday off from work – the plan was to sort out various aspects of my life, but if anything the opposite happened. At 9am I met up with Andy at a cafĂ© in Devonport. I really appreciated him spending that time with me. We joked about my flat and how it’s a hermit’s cave that only I ever enter. I’m too embarrassed to invite anyone into my flat, and of course I have very few friends anyway. My flat is entirely functional, and lacks any nice homely things. I haven’t tried to change that because I feel I’ve had more important things to do, and I’d be better off waiting till I had my own place.
Later I went to see to a career counsellor on the fifth floor of a building on Queen Street. There were several doors on that floor, only one of which had a sign I could read – all the other signs were in either Chinese or Korean. I found it strange that here I am, in New Zealand, faced with a whole bunch of signs that I can’t even begin to read. I could make a reasonable stab at reading the signs in somewhere as far flung as Peru, but in my own country I simply haven’t a clue. On a similar note, roughly 90% of the names on the pass list for that Australian-based exam, the one I failed, were Asian. Now I’m not racist at all (at least I don’t think I am) but I don’t think that having a profession dominated by one group of people is a good thing.

Anyway, the career counselling was a bit of a dead loss. I had to fill in a questionnaire which categorised interests and professions in totally nonsensical ways. One category was elevated above all others even though it scored the highest by just one point. Other categories were ignored because I’d given a low score for a completely irrelevant question that just happened to be in that category. So I could forget any job which involves writing because I don’t like dancing, and anything financial was out of the question because I don’t like being on committees. So I was left with seismology, cartography, and feeling very confused. When I got home I felt overwhelmed by how many things I had on my plate. I’ve got to find a new job whilst holding down my current job. I’ve got to find somewhere to live. I’ve got to make some friends. I’ve got to sell all this stuff on TradeMe. I’ll be starting Italian classes next week. I’ve got the Bastille Day party with the French club this weekend and I was probably expected to organise something for it but I’ve ignored all emails about it because there’s no way I’d find the time. I need to exercise. My level of tennis deteriorated last season and I’d like to get better again. I need to watch what I eat because my cholesterol level is so high. I need to make sure I have a supply of pills. I’m learning how to play poker. I create word and number puzzles and have a website dedicated to them, which I’ve totally neglected over the past six months – in fact when I mentioned this the career counsellor, she gave me a lot of encouragement to get back into my puzzles again, so seeing her wasn’t a complete waste of time and money after all. A puzzle shop has just opened up in Devonport and even though it deals in mechanical puzzles rather than paper-based ones, I feel I should make contact with the owners.

I realised two things on Monday. First, I need to forget about the house thing for a while. When I looked at that place on Saturday I was going through the motions, and you can’t go half-arsed into the most important purchase of your life. Buying a house isn’t priority A. Or B, or C. So I should flag it, and maybe get some nice homely things for my flat after all. Secondly, I must stop playing online poker. I’ve promised myself not to touch it for two months. On the face of it, what I’ve been doing is harmless because it hasn’t cost me a cent, and could potentially make me money, but it takes up so much time which I simply haven’t got. Last week for instance I spent eleven hours on two tournaments alone. The tournament format just isn’t conducive to living a normal life. When the phone rings you have three options: (1) answer it and fold every hand until you finish the conversation; (2) answer it and carry on playing; or (3) ignore it. I’ve been doing a mixture of (2) and (3). Some people play insane amounts of online poker, saying they “12-table 14 hours a day” and so on. How do they do that without going completely loopy? How do they eat, sleep, exercise, buy food, talk to their loved ones, have anything resembling a life? The same goes for any online activity. Some people are constantly on TradeMe, Youtube, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Twatter, and all kinds of other forums and social networking sites that I don’t even know about. How do they manage? I’m beginning to realise that internet addiction can be a real problem.

Yesterday was a bad day. I was depressed and able to think of just one thing – my depression. Seeing the psychologist after work helped, and going to the men’s group last night was a huge help. I think lack of human contact is the root of my problems. At the men’s group we watched the second half of Eagle Eye. Andy made the very good point that even though that kind of film could be disturbing to some people, we should treat those with mental health problems just like anyone else. Today I’m feeling marginally better than yesterday, but I’m still struggling. It’s only a matter of time before I’ll need to up my Efexor to 225. Just when I thought I was getting better, suddenly it’s all gone Pete Tong again.

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