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 café 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.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Where did it all go wrong?
Talking about my lonely, socially inept childhood and adolescence with the psychologist wasn't fun (it's something I've always just glossed over) but I felt it was necessary. For the next day and a half I felt terrible; on Wednesday my depression affected my performance at work more than on any day since March. During my lunch break on Thursday I saw Andy, and just having someone to talk to made me feel much better. I mentioned to him that I thought I had a mild form of autism; he said I could use that to my advantage by helping people with more severe autism because I'd understand their condition. That's not a bad suggestion when I think about it.
I was fast out of the blocks, academically speaking. To help improve my vocabulary, Mum used a "word tin", which was a matchbox full of words written on small strips of card. The plan was that I'd get a few new words each day, but when I could memorise the whole box in one go, those plans went out the window. I'd label everything in the kitchen. "How do you spell ceiling, Mummy" I'd ask, standing on a chair on the kitchen table. She'd tell me and I'd never forget it. I was fascinated by the "grains of rice on a chessboard" problem and could quickly rattle off powers of two up to probably 131,072.
By the time I started school, my brain age was double my actual age (funnily enough it still is - when I'm trying to learn new things at work I'm like a 60-year-old). I had no idea how to make friends with other kids but I didn't care. I had a loving family and thankfully still do. Mum was a part-time teacher, Dad worked at home, I got on (mostly!) with my brother, and I regularly saw my grandparents. In '86 we went to New Zealand for a long holiday, spending endless summer days on the beach at Caroline Bay while Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al played on the radio - that song always brings back fond memories for me.
I did eventually make some friends, but three changes of school (including a term at a provincial school in New Zealand, which was an experience) didn't help. At the age of thirteen, I became deeply aware of what others thought of me. I suddenly found myself with no friends and no confidence, and things started to go a bit pear-shaped for me.
On Thursday evening I spoke to Mum and Dad on the phone - apparently things have kicked off again in the UK between my aunt and my 87-year-old grandmother. My aunt has a serious drink problem and suffers from severe depression, but at the same time is self-obsessed and extremely manipulative. She's unfortunately the only family my gran has over there, and she has the capacity to make the last few years of my gran's life an absolute misery. Dad will be making a trip to the UK fairly soon, and was trying to persuade my gran to come back to New Zealand with him. It's all so sad that it's got to this point.
I was playing poker (a deuce-to-seven freeroll) while I was having this conversation. I'm hopeless at multi-tasking, so it's no surprise I lost over half my stack (when I think about it, being on the phone probably made no difference). It was a funny tournament for me, though the ending wasn't so funny because I finished 61st, just five places outside the qualifying spots. I lost two huge pots with eights; I need to learn to fold eights occasionally, just like I can fold strong badugis. I kept bouncing back but towards the end I simply missed all my draws.
I went to bed far too late after that tournament, and I had to get up even earlier than usual because it was a special day at work. Once a month the company raises money for kids' charities (which is laudable, but I do wonder how much they really care about kids and how much is just a PR stunt). Somehow I made it to work on time, and though I'm out of my element on special days like that, it could have been a whole lot worse. I even bought a CD of OMC's How Bizarre for 50 cents from a mock garage sale.
Brendan was very helpful today when we looked at an open home in Browns Bay; he knows a lot more about real estate than I do. To be honest though, I'm not all that motivated. I'll still go to the auction next weekend (why is it that every house I look at is sold by auction?) though I doubt I'll be buying.
I'll be taking Monday off from work to sort my life out. I'll be meeting up with Andy for a coffee in the morning; that's something to look forward to.
I was fast out of the blocks, academically speaking. To help improve my vocabulary, Mum used a "word tin", which was a matchbox full of words written on small strips of card. The plan was that I'd get a few new words each day, but when I could memorise the whole box in one go, those plans went out the window. I'd label everything in the kitchen. "How do you spell ceiling, Mummy" I'd ask, standing on a chair on the kitchen table. She'd tell me and I'd never forget it. I was fascinated by the "grains of rice on a chessboard" problem and could quickly rattle off powers of two up to probably 131,072.
By the time I started school, my brain age was double my actual age (funnily enough it still is - when I'm trying to learn new things at work I'm like a 60-year-old). I had no idea how to make friends with other kids but I didn't care. I had a loving family and thankfully still do. Mum was a part-time teacher, Dad worked at home, I got on (mostly!) with my brother, and I regularly saw my grandparents. In '86 we went to New Zealand for a long holiday, spending endless summer days on the beach at Caroline Bay while Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al played on the radio - that song always brings back fond memories for me.
I did eventually make some friends, but three changes of school (including a term at a provincial school in New Zealand, which was an experience) didn't help. At the age of thirteen, I became deeply aware of what others thought of me. I suddenly found myself with no friends and no confidence, and things started to go a bit pear-shaped for me.
On Thursday evening I spoke to Mum and Dad on the phone - apparently things have kicked off again in the UK between my aunt and my 87-year-old grandmother. My aunt has a serious drink problem and suffers from severe depression, but at the same time is self-obsessed and extremely manipulative. She's unfortunately the only family my gran has over there, and she has the capacity to make the last few years of my gran's life an absolute misery. Dad will be making a trip to the UK fairly soon, and was trying to persuade my gran to come back to New Zealand with him. It's all so sad that it's got to this point.
I was playing poker (a deuce-to-seven freeroll) while I was having this conversation. I'm hopeless at multi-tasking, so it's no surprise I lost over half my stack (when I think about it, being on the phone probably made no difference). It was a funny tournament for me, though the ending wasn't so funny because I finished 61st, just five places outside the qualifying spots. I lost two huge pots with eights; I need to learn to fold eights occasionally, just like I can fold strong badugis. I kept bouncing back but towards the end I simply missed all my draws.
I went to bed far too late after that tournament, and I had to get up even earlier than usual because it was a special day at work. Once a month the company raises money for kids' charities (which is laudable, but I do wonder how much they really care about kids and how much is just a PR stunt). Somehow I made it to work on time, and though I'm out of my element on special days like that, it could have been a whole lot worse. I even bought a CD of OMC's How Bizarre for 50 cents from a mock garage sale.
Brendan was very helpful today when we looked at an open home in Browns Bay; he knows a lot more about real estate than I do. To be honest though, I'm not all that motivated. I'll still go to the auction next weekend (why is it that every house I look at is sold by auction?) though I doubt I'll be buying.
I'll be taking Monday off from work to sort my life out. I'll be meeting up with Andy for a coffee in the morning; that's something to look forward to.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Battle of 16-14
I didn't see any of the men's final. My guess is that it was a very good match, but nowhere near as good as a 30-game fifth set might suggest, and not a patch on last year's final. Of course I'm just speculating here. Last year's final was a real clash of the titans with one mesmerising baseline rally after another, and I'd be surprised if this year's match captivated the audience in quite the same way.
Some facts and figures I picked up from the final:
Some facts and figures I picked up from the final:
- Federer served fifty aces in that match, which is more than I've managed in my entire life.
- Roddick led 6-2 in the second-set tie-break but blew all four set points. If you're reading this blog Andy Roddick, you can console yourself that I outdid you in this regard last season.
- Federer won more sets (obviously), fewer games, but more points than Roddick.
- Last year's final had 62 games compared to this year's 77, but was half an hour longer (and that doesn't include the rain delays).
- Federer has played six tie-breaks in the last three Wimbledon finals and has won all of them.
It's about time the women started playing best-of-five in the Grand Slams too. Not from round one like Bazza suggested when I spoke to him last night, but certainly in the final and perhaps also the semi-finals. And if you (like Lleyton Hewitt) think women wouldn't last five sets, take a look at this article from 1990 about a match between Seles and Sabatini. Or maybe some women's US Open final results from more than a century ago. Or, for a bit of a laugh, this crazy match where a single point lasted almost half an hour!
Today I was invited to a Farrah Fawcett party which is happening on Saturday. Unfortunately there's just no way I could accept the invitation, which lost me at the words "dress up". If it had been a Michael Jackson party instead, I probably would have gone.
After work today I saw my psychologist. For the first time ever I spilled the beans about my messed-up adolescence (it was a totally different kind of messed-up to the one we all hear about, but it was messed-up all the same). I've been so lonely for so long, it's no wonder I've had depression. In fact I should be grateful things haven't been worse.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Late night
Last night was a very late one for me. For most people, a late night normally involves alcohol, parties and other people, but my late night was spent in front of the computer and the TV. I played a single draw freeroll, making it through to the money round from that tournament at my fourth attempt, and watched the women's Wimbledon final which finished at around three.
There are a lot of clueless players in the early stages of a freeroll, and this one was no exception. Some of them were clearly trying to make flushes and full houses. On one occasion I made a nine and thought long and hard before calling a biggish raise. He/she showed down something like A8652, presumably thinking aces were low. I got frustrated as I kept missing my draws, but eventually the cards went my way and I made the top 56 with something to spare. As soon as I'd qualified, I just went all in so I could bust out and watch the tennis.
Unfortunately I correctly picked Serena to win (I've always preferred Venus over her sister) and she didn't even need three sets, though she did need a large helping of good fortune to make it to the final in the first place. The dominance on serve last night wasn't unlike a men's match: we didn't really get those bruising baseline rallies until the very last game. I'd love to watch the men's final tonight but I really do need to get some sleep.
I spent this afternoon at Julie's, helping her move to her apartment in Cheltenham. I felt good after all that heavy lifting; I could benefit from doing physical work now and again.
Yesterday I went to another open home. I quite liked what I saw but once again it's being sold at auction, and I'm not sure I should be making that sort of commitment just yet.
There are a lot of clueless players in the early stages of a freeroll, and this one was no exception. Some of them were clearly trying to make flushes and full houses. On one occasion I made a nine and thought long and hard before calling a biggish raise. He/she showed down something like A8652, presumably thinking aces were low. I got frustrated as I kept missing my draws, but eventually the cards went my way and I made the top 56 with something to spare. As soon as I'd qualified, I just went all in so I could bust out and watch the tennis.
Unfortunately I correctly picked Serena to win (I've always preferred Venus over her sister) and she didn't even need three sets, though she did need a large helping of good fortune to make it to the final in the first place. The dominance on serve last night wasn't unlike a men's match: we didn't really get those bruising baseline rallies until the very last game. I'd love to watch the men's final tonight but I really do need to get some sleep.
I spent this afternoon at Julie's, helping her move to her apartment in Cheltenham. I felt good after all that heavy lifting; I could benefit from doing physical work now and again.
Yesterday I went to another open home. I quite liked what I saw but once again it's being sold at auction, and I'm not sure I should be making that sort of commitment just yet.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Perfect result (but not for me)
The results of the early exams came out today; amazingly everyone passed. We had an unprecedented number sitting this time so it really was an incredible effort. It was suggested that the exams are getting easier, but they're not. I've got my own theories for today's perfect score:
(a) My department now has a virtual A-plus-only hiring policy, so we now have some very clever people in our midst. The academic bar has been raised several notches since I arrived on the scene. I was very much a B-grade student so if I hadn't got in when I did, I never would have made the cut.
(b) We've got far too many people working in our department. There just isn't enough meaningful work to go round. So all the new students have oodles of time to study.
(c) The number of students has reached a critical mass where they can study in a group and generally help each other out.
At the same time as all those results came in (one of my colleagues celebrated so wildly you'd have thought he'd just won the Powerball jackpot), I got a letter giving a breakdown of last week's result. I'd done even worse than I'd imagined, coming 142nd out of 177 and passing just one question out of six.
A celebratory barbecue had been planned for tonight (our whole department was invited) and I'd brought beers and a change of clothes to work. But by mid-afternoon I realised I simply couldn't face the thought of being with people tonight, and certainly wasn't in the mood for celebration of any sort. So at 5pm I went home, did a good half-hour on the cardio-glide thingy and downloaded Green Day's 21 Guns. I'll try and stay up for the men's semis tonight.
(a) My department now has a virtual A-plus-only hiring policy, so we now have some very clever people in our midst. The academic bar has been raised several notches since I arrived on the scene. I was very much a B-grade student so if I hadn't got in when I did, I never would have made the cut.
(b) We've got far too many people working in our department. There just isn't enough meaningful work to go round. So all the new students have oodles of time to study.
(c) The number of students has reached a critical mass where they can study in a group and generally help each other out.
At the same time as all those results came in (one of my colleagues celebrated so wildly you'd have thought he'd just won the Powerball jackpot), I got a letter giving a breakdown of last week's result. I'd done even worse than I'd imagined, coming 142nd out of 177 and passing just one question out of six.
A celebratory barbecue had been planned for tonight (our whole department was invited) and I'd brought beers and a change of clothes to work. But by mid-afternoon I realised I simply couldn't face the thought of being with people tonight, and certainly wasn't in the mood for celebration of any sort. So at 5pm I went home, did a good half-hour on the cardio-glide thingy and downloaded Green Day's 21 Guns. I'll try and stay up for the men's semis tonight.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Missing the target
Yesterday I found myself in another sticky situation at work - I had my appraisal report. As expected, I scored "below target" for a number of my objectives. With the country's economic report card looking as unhealthy as my personal one, I won't be getting a nice big fat bonus this time around. But that was the least of my worries. My boss didn't come down on me like a ton of bricks (I don't know why I thought she might - she's a good person) and she had no real problems with my decision to take a break from the next exam session.
Last night I went to the men's group where we watched the first half of Eagle Eye, an action thriller. I thought it was a decent movie but I wondered how appropriate it was for people with mental health problems. Apart from that, the week has so far been fairly uneventful. I went to the French club on Sunday and the boot camp tennis on Monday. Though Wimbledon is on poor man's TV this year, the coverage is woefully inadequate so I've seen hardly any of it. We're now down to just four women and eight men; I'm picking Serena to beat her sister in three sets in the women's final, while Federer is my pick to make it six Wimbledon titles with a four-set win over Andy Murray in the men's final. Those picks are based purely on gut instinct because I've unfortunately had nothing else to go on.
Last night I went to the men's group where we watched the first half of Eagle Eye, an action thriller. I thought it was a decent movie but I wondered how appropriate it was for people with mental health problems. Apart from that, the week has so far been fairly uneventful. I went to the French club on Sunday and the boot camp tennis on Monday. Though Wimbledon is on poor man's TV this year, the coverage is woefully inadequate so I've seen hardly any of it. We're now down to just four women and eight men; I'm picking Serena to beat her sister in three sets in the women's final, while Federer is my pick to make it six Wimbledon titles with a four-set win over Andy Murray in the men's final. Those picks are based purely on gut instinct because I've unfortunately had nothing else to go on.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Blame it on the Badugi
It's been a strange week. I spent a large chunk of my work day yesterday on websites from the BBC, CNN, Reuters, you name it, trying to determine whether Michael Jackson really was dead. He was only fifty, but boy did he pack a lot into those fifty years. He polarised people; I always had a lot of sympathy for him. So much of what happened (as is the case for us all) was a result of his upbringing, and largely out of his control. He'd always been a very unusual bloke, but in about '95 (when he did Earth Song which I thought was amazing) he fell out of the crazy tree and hit every branch on the way down. So sad. (By the way I didn't invent that phrase; I heard it on TV and thought it would come in handy here.)
Today I got two new tyres for my car and ordered a case of wine for Mum and Dad for when they get back from Vietnam. They've both just had their birthdays. Mum's was one of those special landmark birthdays so she also got a box of expensive but very good chocolates. I got home just in time for the badugi tournament, and I qualified for the second time, finishing 54th after a head-spinning 6¼ hours. I came back from the brink on several occasions and was extremely fortunate to survive. One time I think I went all in with a queen badugi; another time I clung on by the barest of margins, making the worst possible six while my adversary had the best possible seven. At one stage I was down to less than a tenth of the mean stack size.
On Tuesday I had that presentation for real. It could have been a lot worse. As expected I got asked lots of questions I didn't know the answers to, but at least people could tell I'd put some work into it. The presentations overran so my boss, who was to go last, didn't have time to give her talk on the subject of "philosophy". A shame, because I'd really like to learn about Jung and Freud and all that stuff, but as it turns out it was actually going to be about the philosophical basis for pricing our products. That reminds me of the men's group which I'll be attending next week; the subject of Freud comes up a lot there.
That afternoon our team went go-karting as a team building event. It was the first time I'd done it apart from one very brief go when I was eleven or so. You think you're going at breakneck speed, and it would have been a lot of fun if I was with a different group of people. Unfortunately my colleagues are all quite competitive, and I lack the aggressive type-A personality needed to be good at that kind of thing. So most of the time I was at the back of the field, which normally wouldn't matter, but my workmates liked comparing grid positions, lap times and all that malarkey.
I'd been dreading Tuesday for a while so I'd almost forgotten about Wednesday which was exam results day. It was no surprise to me that I didn't pass. The pass rate, at nearly 50%, was a surprise, but my heart wasn't really in it and my head was often all over the place. So I now have until next Friday to decide what to do next, though I've already decided. I won't be doing another exam this year. At work on Wednesday I had a panic attack, my first for some time. Thankfully it only lasted a minute or two and nobody noticed anything untoward.
It's been very foggy here the last 24 hours, so the ships' foghorns have been going full blast. For some reason I don't mind that, just like I don't think I'd mind living near a railway line. Wimbledon will be on telly shortly, but as I've got the French club in the morning I don't think I can stay up all night and watch it, as much as I'd like to.
Today I got two new tyres for my car and ordered a case of wine for Mum and Dad for when they get back from Vietnam. They've both just had their birthdays. Mum's was one of those special landmark birthdays so she also got a box of expensive but very good chocolates. I got home just in time for the badugi tournament, and I qualified for the second time, finishing 54th after a head-spinning 6¼ hours. I came back from the brink on several occasions and was extremely fortunate to survive. One time I think I went all in with a queen badugi; another time I clung on by the barest of margins, making the worst possible six while my adversary had the best possible seven. At one stage I was down to less than a tenth of the mean stack size.
On Tuesday I had that presentation for real. It could have been a lot worse. As expected I got asked lots of questions I didn't know the answers to, but at least people could tell I'd put some work into it. The presentations overran so my boss, who was to go last, didn't have time to give her talk on the subject of "philosophy". A shame, because I'd really like to learn about Jung and Freud and all that stuff, but as it turns out it was actually going to be about the philosophical basis for pricing our products. That reminds me of the men's group which I'll be attending next week; the subject of Freud comes up a lot there.
That afternoon our team went go-karting as a team building event. It was the first time I'd done it apart from one very brief go when I was eleven or so. You think you're going at breakneck speed, and it would have been a lot of fun if I was with a different group of people. Unfortunately my colleagues are all quite competitive, and I lack the aggressive type-A personality needed to be good at that kind of thing. So most of the time I was at the back of the field, which normally wouldn't matter, but my workmates liked comparing grid positions, lap times and all that malarkey.
I'd been dreading Tuesday for a while so I'd almost forgotten about Wednesday which was exam results day. It was no surprise to me that I didn't pass. The pass rate, at nearly 50%, was a surprise, but my heart wasn't really in it and my head was often all over the place. So I now have until next Friday to decide what to do next, though I've already decided. I won't be doing another exam this year. At work on Wednesday I had a panic attack, my first for some time. Thankfully it only lasted a minute or two and nobody noticed anything untoward.
It's been very foggy here the last 24 hours, so the ships' foghorns have been going full blast. For some reason I don't mind that, just like I don't think I'd mind living near a railway line. Wimbledon will be on telly shortly, but as I've got the French club in the morning I don't think I can stay up all night and watch it, as much as I'd like to.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The C-word
On Tuesday I felt my grip on my job become more and more tenuous, and frankly I just didn't want to be there any more. I was hoping that someone from work could get swine flu - just a mild case of it - so that we could all be sent home for a few days. I calculated that if H1N1 continues to spread throughout the country at the same rate, then by July 2nd it would be more likely than not that someone at work has it, which would be great because I'd be able to stay up all night and watch the business end of Wimbledon. Nadal has pulled out - probably a sensible decision - opening the door for Fed to break Sampras's record, though in my mind he's already surpassed Sampras. The career grand slam, five straight Wimbledons, five straight US Opens, twenty consecutive grand slam semi-finals, what can you say?
So I felt utterly hopeless on Tuesday. Work was crap and I couldn't summon up the energy to do anything about it. That situation has changed somewhat, and I'm now seriously looking at vacancies. I found two promising jobs on the internet, but anything advertised online is likely to get so many applications that I've got more chance of winning one of my badugi tournaments. Still, no harm in trying.
Today I had a longish session on the cardio-glide machine Bazza gave me. Then I took the ferry into town on what was a sunny if slightly chilly day. When I got back I spoke to my aunt and uncle on the phone, sidestepping any questions about my exams. They were in Auckland, about to board a plane to South America, which if I had the time and money would be near the top of my places-to-go list. Later I gave Brendan from the men's group a call - we talked (or rather he talked mostly) at length about the vagaries of real estate.
The C-word by the way is cholesterol. Every two years at work we're given a health check - a great idea I think - and yesterday I found out I've got cholesterol up the wazoo. I received a magnitude 6.4 shock on seeing those results: how on earth have I ended up there? I do consume my fair share of fish and chips, red meat and cheese, but I don't think I'm any worse than the average Kiwi bloke, and I eat plenty of fruit and vege. I will try to change my diet over the next few months (I've just bought a whole load of salmon and cashew nuts - foods I really like anyway but are just a tad on the expensive side). If I stay somewhere in the sixes despite my best efforts then I'm afraid it might mean more pills.
Cholesterol isn't the only aspect of my health I'd like to change. I've also been missing out on a whole load of vitamin D. I used to live in a sunny flat in Milford and took a two-mile walk to work, which was by the beach, so I got out at lunchtime and soaked up the sunshine if there was any. Fast forward three years and I'm living in a dark basement flat (with great views but I don't get the sun) and I drive to work, which has since relocated to a faceless business park where there's nothing to do, so people just stay inside.
I'm now getting into another new poker game - deuce-to-seven single draw. It works just like five-card draw, you know, the one you learn as kids, but the object is to make as bad a hand as possible. In other words the hand rankings are the same as for regular poker but in reverse. The only exception to this is A2345 which doesn't count as a straight, because for some unknown reason aces always play high in deuce-to-seven. The nuts in this game is a non-flush 75432. On Thursday night I had my first turn at a single draw freeroll. Out of 3600 entrants and after 4¼ hours I came 86th, thirty places outside the cut-off for the next round. I ran hot for the first couple of hours but then the hands dried up. It was the first time I'd played a tournament with antes - I didn't feel I adjusted enough for the extra pressure these put on my stack.
When I first arrived in Auckland I often used to hop in the car and get the hell out of the city, usually somewhere up north. I haven't done that in ages, so that's my plan for tomorrow.
So I felt utterly hopeless on Tuesday. Work was crap and I couldn't summon up the energy to do anything about it. That situation has changed somewhat, and I'm now seriously looking at vacancies. I found two promising jobs on the internet, but anything advertised online is likely to get so many applications that I've got more chance of winning one of my badugi tournaments. Still, no harm in trying.
Today I had a longish session on the cardio-glide machine Bazza gave me. Then I took the ferry into town on what was a sunny if slightly chilly day. When I got back I spoke to my aunt and uncle on the phone, sidestepping any questions about my exams. They were in Auckland, about to board a plane to South America, which if I had the time and money would be near the top of my places-to-go list. Later I gave Brendan from the men's group a call - we talked (or rather he talked mostly) at length about the vagaries of real estate.
The C-word by the way is cholesterol. Every two years at work we're given a health check - a great idea I think - and yesterday I found out I've got cholesterol up the wazoo. I received a magnitude 6.4 shock on seeing those results: how on earth have I ended up there? I do consume my fair share of fish and chips, red meat and cheese, but I don't think I'm any worse than the average Kiwi bloke, and I eat plenty of fruit and vege. I will try to change my diet over the next few months (I've just bought a whole load of salmon and cashew nuts - foods I really like anyway but are just a tad on the expensive side). If I stay somewhere in the sixes despite my best efforts then I'm afraid it might mean more pills.
Cholesterol isn't the only aspect of my health I'd like to change. I've also been missing out on a whole load of vitamin D. I used to live in a sunny flat in Milford and took a two-mile walk to work, which was by the beach, so I got out at lunchtime and soaked up the sunshine if there was any. Fast forward three years and I'm living in a dark basement flat (with great views but I don't get the sun) and I drive to work, which has since relocated to a faceless business park where there's nothing to do, so people just stay inside.
I'm now getting into another new poker game - deuce-to-seven single draw. It works just like five-card draw, you know, the one you learn as kids, but the object is to make as bad a hand as possible. In other words the hand rankings are the same as for regular poker but in reverse. The only exception to this is A2345 which doesn't count as a straight, because for some unknown reason aces always play high in deuce-to-seven. The nuts in this game is a non-flush 75432. On Thursday night I had my first turn at a single draw freeroll. Out of 3600 entrants and after 4¼ hours I came 86th, thirty places outside the cut-off for the next round. I ran hot for the first couple of hours but then the hands dried up. It was the first time I'd played a tournament with antes - I didn't feel I adjusted enough for the extra pressure these put on my stack.
When I first arrived in Auckland I often used to hop in the car and get the hell out of the city, usually somewhere up north. I haven't done that in ages, so that's my plan for tomorrow.
Monday, June 15, 2009
My unsorted life
It wasn’t a bad weekend really, even if most of it was a distraction from what I’m supposed to be doing, which is sorting my life out. After a few of the comments I’ve made about my job, Andy said I had to see Office Space, a movie set in a software company during the late-90s IT boom. So I bought a copy of the DVD off TradeMe. It could have been better, and was very much of its time I thought – back when shares in NoAssets.com traded at stratospheric levels – but it still made me laugh, and that makes a comedy a success, doesn’t it? At times things got a little too close to some of my experiences in my own job.
On Saturday night I went with Julie to see an amateur production of Little Shop of Horrors. I loved it. The only musical I’d previously seen was Cats, several years ago in Australia. Cats did absolutely nothing for me, but I really enjoyed this one – it’s funny, it’s dark, and unlike Cats it actually has a plot. I’d never appreciated how much work goes into this sort of production, especially a musical where there are so many extra lines to learn. And I’d never realised how much skill is involved in writing a musical in the first place – getting all those rhymes to work is very clever stuff when you think about it. I reckon I’d actually prefer this type of production in an intimate setting to a professional performance in a big theatre. It’s cheaper for a start, the performers are very passionate about what they do, and if you do get the odd fluffed line occasionally (on Saturday that happened maybe once), is it really that big a deal? Perhaps they could have made the surroundings even more intimate by allowing the Audrey II plant to spread its “tentacles” over the front few rows of the audience.
I had another go at that badugi tournament yesterday. This time I came 215th out of the 6590 who entered. I probably should have been knocked out at the half-hour mark – I was down to a few hundred in chips, went all in, and hit a six badugi on the last draw. I survived another two hours, my luck finally running out when I got involved in a three-way pot with my pat 8432. One of my opponents, the one I wasn’t worried about, made a six to eliminate me. These freerolls are a bit of a time-waster, but considering I’ve made the top 5% three times in five attempts, including one top-64 finish, I’ll carry on with them for the time being.
Yesterday was my mum’s 60th birthday. My parents are currently on holiday in Vietnam. There’s plenty to do and see there (it's a world away from Geraldine) so they should be having an exciting time. I just hope they’re not finding the June heat too oppressive and that they aren’t spending too many dong. Yes, the dong is Vietnam’s currency, and you get rather a lot of dong for your dollar. There are 11,000 dong to one New Zealand dollar, or 30,000 to the pound. On the subject of low-valued currencies, I recently bought this note on TradeMe:
It’s a Zimbabwean 50 trillion dollar note. That’s a five followed by thirteen zeros. All those noughts are a bit of a joke on the face of it, and certainly make for an interesting collector’s item, but really they’re just a measure of how a once-prosperous country has totally gone to the dogs.
All this talk of dong also reminds me of Friday’s meeting at work, when I had to describe to the whole marketing department what a dongle was. Not a dong, but a dongle. As you can imagine, it isn’t easy to even mention the word dongle (which is in fact a mundane piece of computer equipment) without sending people into fits of hysterics.
Work is still driving me barmy. Tomorrow I’ll be going to see my psychologist – I still have to prepare for our session – followed by the men’s group. Maybe after that I’ll be one step closer to sorting my life out.
On Saturday night I went with Julie to see an amateur production of Little Shop of Horrors. I loved it. The only musical I’d previously seen was Cats, several years ago in Australia. Cats did absolutely nothing for me, but I really enjoyed this one – it’s funny, it’s dark, and unlike Cats it actually has a plot. I’d never appreciated how much work goes into this sort of production, especially a musical where there are so many extra lines to learn. And I’d never realised how much skill is involved in writing a musical in the first place – getting all those rhymes to work is very clever stuff when you think about it. I reckon I’d actually prefer this type of production in an intimate setting to a professional performance in a big theatre. It’s cheaper for a start, the performers are very passionate about what they do, and if you do get the odd fluffed line occasionally (on Saturday that happened maybe once), is it really that big a deal? Perhaps they could have made the surroundings even more intimate by allowing the Audrey II plant to spread its “tentacles” over the front few rows of the audience.
I had another go at that badugi tournament yesterday. This time I came 215th out of the 6590 who entered. I probably should have been knocked out at the half-hour mark – I was down to a few hundred in chips, went all in, and hit a six badugi on the last draw. I survived another two hours, my luck finally running out when I got involved in a three-way pot with my pat 8432. One of my opponents, the one I wasn’t worried about, made a six to eliminate me. These freerolls are a bit of a time-waster, but considering I’ve made the top 5% three times in five attempts, including one top-64 finish, I’ll carry on with them for the time being.
Yesterday was my mum’s 60th birthday. My parents are currently on holiday in Vietnam. There’s plenty to do and see there (it's a world away from Geraldine) so they should be having an exciting time. I just hope they’re not finding the June heat too oppressive and that they aren’t spending too many dong. Yes, the dong is Vietnam’s currency, and you get rather a lot of dong for your dollar. There are 11,000 dong to one New Zealand dollar, or 30,000 to the pound. On the subject of low-valued currencies, I recently bought this note on TradeMe:
It’s a Zimbabwean 50 trillion dollar note. That’s a five followed by thirteen zeros. All those noughts are a bit of a joke on the face of it, and certainly make for an interesting collector’s item, but really they’re just a measure of how a once-prosperous country has totally gone to the dogs.
All this talk of dong also reminds me of Friday’s meeting at work, when I had to describe to the whole marketing department what a dongle was. Not a dong, but a dongle. As you can imagine, it isn’t easy to even mention the word dongle (which is in fact a mundane piece of computer equipment) without sending people into fits of hysterics.
Work is still driving me barmy. Tomorrow I’ll be going to see my psychologist – I still have to prepare for our session – followed by the men’s group. Maybe after that I’ll be one step closer to sorting my life out.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sixty-six grand
I attended the house auction on Saturday, and once more I found myself priced out of the market. The bidding skyrocketed, finishing a whopping $66,000 above my limit. There was predictably a lot of patter from the auctioneer - "you won't want to come second" - but it seemed to me precisely the kind of auction you would want to come second in. To my mind the eventual buyers paid too much. I had an agent on my shoulder during the auction - I found that intimidating and it's something I'll have to avoid if I ever try and buy a property that way again. The highlight for me was a ginger-haired boy of around seven who defused the tension in the auction room by shouting out a rather high bid. The auctioneer didn't accept his bid, but I found it amusing that the final sale price was $1000 above that kid's figure.
I got caught up in a marathon badugi tournament on Sunday - after almost six and a half hours I finally bowed out in 39th place out of 6700 competitors, enough to qualify me for a real-money
tournament which I can play at any time. It was a steady but unspectactular accumulation of chips for me until the fifth hour, when three hands in quick succession defined my tournament. When my seven-high badugi was cracked by a five I was in dire chip trouble, so when I was dealt a jack badugi soon after, I had no real choice but to go all in. My hand was only a 57% favourite against my sole opponent who drew one, but thankfully it held up. A few hands later I caught a six-high to take out a sizeable pot, and figured I'd have just enough chips to make the crucial top 64 if I played conservatively enough. With steadily increasing blinds, "just enough" is more than you think. I was moved to another table and from then on the game became farcical. The biggest stack in the whole tournament was at my table - he/she would raise every hand so I had no option but to fold, as did pretty much the whole table, every hand. Hands were going by so quickly that there was a real danger I'd be blinded out, so I slowed the game down. When the field was whittled down to 64 I was relieved, though I did wonder if it was all worth it.
I got to work early this morning in readiness for my 8:30 presentation, only to find out I'd got the date wrong by two weeks. That just goes to show how disorganised and "out of the loop" I am in my workplace. Though it would have been nice to get it out of the way, on balance I'm relieved because I'd have had no choice but to use decidedly dodgy data. I doubt by the 23rd I'll have any more idea of what I'm talking about, but at least by then I might be talking bollocks about real data.
I've had some interesting conversations at work in recent days. Firstly there's Pam, the cleaner, who's obsessed with her kids' tennis. Telling her that I play tennis was a big mistake - she never stops talking about the latest trophies her three boys have won. Then yesterday I spoke, for the first time, to this woman who's writing a sci-fi trilogy. I have a lot of admiration for anyone able to write a book, but when she said she'd written the first book of the series in just six weeks - whilst holding down a nine-to-five job - I was blown away. And today I met someone who'd bought some shares in an Australian oil and gas company for five cents apiece a few weeks ago; they're now worth seven times that.
I'm still seeing the psychologist. I'm now getting on pretty well with her and we're even starting to develop plans and goals. Long may that continue.
I got caught up in a marathon badugi tournament on Sunday - after almost six and a half hours I finally bowed out in 39th place out of 6700 competitors, enough to qualify me for a real-money
tournament which I can play at any time. It was a steady but unspectactular accumulation of chips for me until the fifth hour, when three hands in quick succession defined my tournament. When my seven-high badugi was cracked by a five I was in dire chip trouble, so when I was dealt a jack badugi soon after, I had no real choice but to go all in. My hand was only a 57% favourite against my sole opponent who drew one, but thankfully it held up. A few hands later I caught a six-high to take out a sizeable pot, and figured I'd have just enough chips to make the crucial top 64 if I played conservatively enough. With steadily increasing blinds, "just enough" is more than you think. I was moved to another table and from then on the game became farcical. The biggest stack in the whole tournament was at my table - he/she would raise every hand so I had no option but to fold, as did pretty much the whole table, every hand. Hands were going by so quickly that there was a real danger I'd be blinded out, so I slowed the game down. When the field was whittled down to 64 I was relieved, though I did wonder if it was all worth it.
I got to work early this morning in readiness for my 8:30 presentation, only to find out I'd got the date wrong by two weeks. That just goes to show how disorganised and "out of the loop" I am in my workplace. Though it would have been nice to get it out of the way, on balance I'm relieved because I'd have had no choice but to use decidedly dodgy data. I doubt by the 23rd I'll have any more idea of what I'm talking about, but at least by then I might be talking bollocks about real data.
I've had some interesting conversations at work in recent days. Firstly there's Pam, the cleaner, who's obsessed with her kids' tennis. Telling her that I play tennis was a big mistake - she never stops talking about the latest trophies her three boys have won. Then yesterday I spoke, for the first time, to this woman who's writing a sci-fi trilogy. I have a lot of admiration for anyone able to write a book, but when she said she'd written the first book of the series in just six weeks - whilst holding down a nine-to-five job - I was blown away. And today I met someone who'd bought some shares in an Australian oil and gas company for five cents apiece a few weeks ago; they're now worth seven times that.
I'm still seeing the psychologist. I'm now getting on pretty well with her and we're even starting to develop plans and goals. Long may that continue.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The tide is going out
I haven't posted here for a little while. My parents were up here over the long weekend (these cheap flights mean I'll see a lot more of them now!) It was good having them up here, though the Antarctic blast that swept its way up the country did make my flat unbearably cold at times. We ate out twice, spent the best part of a day at the Auckland museum (which was very good I thought), went to Takapuna market, played Scrabble (more on that in a later post) and looked at a house I was interested in (it received their approval and has an auction on Saturday).
Then Mum and Dad flew back, and it was back to work for me. Tuesday was one of my better work days; I get on pretty well with my two younger colleagues but they'd both caught a bout of (swine?) flu over the weekend which meant I picked up their quoting work. That was great, because I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I felt better about myself because I knew I was helping people. I used to do quotes all the time, and would have been quite happy to have carried on doing them, but alas I was in a career, rather than just a job, so that was never an option. It was back to normal yesterday, which means feeling hopelessly inadequate. Today was even worse and I just wanted to go home. I've got to do a bloody presentation on Tuesday and I'm still nowhere near even getting the data I need for it. I don't even know what the presentation is for. The tide is rapidly going out on my job, so doing something about that has suddenly become Priority A.
On Tuesday I saw the psychologist who basically said I need to find ways to make my remaining months (weeks?) at my current workplace as tolerable as possible; one of those tactics was to ask more questions. That evening I went to the men's group; Andy, talented bloke that he is, wasn't there because he was playing live music on the radio. I met up with Andy during my lunch hour today though.
I hope to be starting Italian classes some time in July. I did study the language a bit in '01 and '02, just using books and tapes, but I'll start at the lowest rung of the ladder and hopefully I'll work my way up.
Then Mum and Dad flew back, and it was back to work for me. Tuesday was one of my better work days; I get on pretty well with my two younger colleagues but they'd both caught a bout of (swine?) flu over the weekend which meant I picked up their quoting work. That was great, because I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I felt better about myself because I knew I was helping people. I used to do quotes all the time, and would have been quite happy to have carried on doing them, but alas I was in a career, rather than just a job, so that was never an option. It was back to normal yesterday, which means feeling hopelessly inadequate. Today was even worse and I just wanted to go home. I've got to do a bloody presentation on Tuesday and I'm still nowhere near even getting the data I need for it. I don't even know what the presentation is for. The tide is rapidly going out on my job, so doing something about that has suddenly become Priority A.
On Tuesday I saw the psychologist who basically said I need to find ways to make my remaining months (weeks?) at my current workplace as tolerable as possible; one of those tactics was to ask more questions. That evening I went to the men's group; Andy, talented bloke that he is, wasn't there because he was playing live music on the radio. I met up with Andy during my lunch hour today though.
I hope to be starting Italian classes some time in July. I did study the language a bit in '01 and '02, just using books and tapes, but I'll start at the lowest rung of the ladder and hopefully I'll work my way up.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Overwhelmed
I feel pretty hopeless right now. Thinking about finding jobs, houses and friends is just getting too much. I've had little enthusiasm for anything this weekend.
I did have a look at a couple of open homes though. One of them was too dark, and therefore a non-starter, but the other one might be a possibility. The ad for this place contained the word "fabulous" ten times, and it'll be up for auction in just under two weeks. Getting any useful information about the place from the agent was like getting blood out of a stone. There are 4.3 million people living in New Zealand, of whom 1.7 million seem to be real estate agents. And they're all the bloody same. When trying to get at least some vague idea of a price range, I was informed that the vendors were "genuine" sellers and I was looking at a "genuine" house. That was really helpful, because for a minute there I thought I was staring at a holographic image, and that the sale of the property was just one big hoax.
Last Tuesday I went to the men's group again. Andy definitely impressed me with his guitar playing, and what's more, he's written dozens of his own songs. It must be amazing to have such talents. One of the other blokes also brought out his guitar, and he could certainly play too.
On the subject of music, I just bought two albums off TradeMe: The Sophtware Slump by Grandaddy and Levelling the Land by the Levellers. The Grandaddy album has similarities to Radiohead's OK Computer and to be honest I found some of it a bit too weird, though I really like the very first track (weighing in at nearly nine minutes it's a real epic) while Jed the Humanoid is the saddest song about an alcoholic robot you'll ever hear. I first bought the Levellers album about half my lifetime ago (well I didn't buy it, I borrowed it from the library and then copied it) but my copy has long since vanished. I love the whole album from beginning to end, though my favourite tracks would be One Way, The Boatman and Far From Home. The Levellers are wonderfully British somehow, and the message "be yourself" resonates strongly with me. I mustn't forget though that the album came out in 1991 when being yourself in the UK was still an option - I feel there has been a marked trend towards conformity since then.
The highlight of my work week was probably Tuesday when I made $80 on iPredict during my tea break. I'm strangely optimistic that the coming week will be better.
I did have a look at a couple of open homes though. One of them was too dark, and therefore a non-starter, but the other one might be a possibility. The ad for this place contained the word "fabulous" ten times, and it'll be up for auction in just under two weeks. Getting any useful information about the place from the agent was like getting blood out of a stone. There are 4.3 million people living in New Zealand, of whom 1.7 million seem to be real estate agents. And they're all the bloody same. When trying to get at least some vague idea of a price range, I was informed that the vendors were "genuine" sellers and I was looking at a "genuine" house. That was really helpful, because for a minute there I thought I was staring at a holographic image, and that the sale of the property was just one big hoax.
Last Tuesday I went to the men's group again. Andy definitely impressed me with his guitar playing, and what's more, he's written dozens of his own songs. It must be amazing to have such talents. One of the other blokes also brought out his guitar, and he could certainly play too.
On the subject of music, I just bought two albums off TradeMe: The Sophtware Slump by Grandaddy and Levelling the Land by the Levellers. The Grandaddy album has similarities to Radiohead's OK Computer and to be honest I found some of it a bit too weird, though I really like the very first track (weighing in at nearly nine minutes it's a real epic) while Jed the Humanoid is the saddest song about an alcoholic robot you'll ever hear. I first bought the Levellers album about half my lifetime ago (well I didn't buy it, I borrowed it from the library and then copied it) but my copy has long since vanished. I love the whole album from beginning to end, though my favourite tracks would be One Way, The Boatman and Far From Home. The Levellers are wonderfully British somehow, and the message "be yourself" resonates strongly with me. I mustn't forget though that the album came out in 1991 when being yourself in the UK was still an option - I feel there has been a marked trend towards conformity since then.
The highlight of my work week was probably Tuesday when I made $80 on iPredict during my tea break. I'm strangely optimistic that the coming week will be better.
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