My Brain is Full

If you haven't already seen, good ol' Party Poker is offering a 25% reload bonus this month, up to $150, valid until June 8th, bonus code BONUSJUN. One thing to note is that they're slightly savvying up, and have added to their terms the little nugget that if you withdraw from your Party account during the bonus period and then redeposit for the bonus, bzzt, nope, no bonus soup for you.

Played in an limit Omaha Full Tilt bracelet race last night, finishing 4th. Doh. Fairly frustrating, as we were all pretty equal when it got down to six players, but I went completely card dead at the absolute worst time, got eaten up by blinds, and finally had to push with a less than spectacular hand. I was pretty amused the whole time at the potential irony of winning a seat to one of the WSOP events the day after we got back from Vegas but nay, it was not to be.

Got mugged at the 15/30 tables. Not the start I was looking to, after getting the gambling fires good and stoked in Vegas. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever completely make peace with the fickle nature of poker. Ended the evening losing a $800+ pot when I flopped the nut flush, capped action all the way to the river, at which point the raising monkey UTG fills his boat, catching running 2s to go with his Q2o. I (heart) poker.

I'm feeling sort of stuck these days. In an odd, largely good way, but stuck nonetheless.

Despite degenerate evidence to the contrary, I've never been a big risk taker. My thirty years on the planet have been pretty damn orderly, as far as school, then immediately to college, then immediately to grad school, then basically immediately (minus a year) into a decent paying corporate gig. That was the plan, by and large, with the idea that I'd work for awhile, save lots of money, then take some time off to give the writing thing a serious shot.

Mission accomplished. Except, umm, I'm still stuck at this craptacular day job. I also acquired a mortgage and a wife that I didn't necessarily plan on possessing at this stage of the game. All of which are good things, just slightly unexpected.

Which leaves me wondering just what the hell I should do. I can't take much more of the day job. I can laugh at most of the ridiculous stuff, but at the end of the day it's the larger mindset that wears me down, as far as treating the general monkey worker population here like crap, knowing that they're largely trapped behind the zoo walls, given the fact that aren't a plethora of other editorial-type gigs that people with liberal arts degrees can land in this town.

The smart, logical thing to do is to look for another job, which I've been doing. While my MFA and mad poker skillz aren't exactly wowing potential employers, more than likely I'll eventually be able to find a Web editor and technical writer gig somewhere. And that'll be fine, likely a slight paycut, but basically any employer other than my current one would be a step up, as far as general happiness and mindset at work.

Except there's a slight, tiny rub. If I do that, I'm settling for the safe and logical, once again. And there's nothing wrong with that. Really. But more and more I find myself itching to take a shot.

In a backwards way, going to Vegas was sort of a catalyst. Not because of all the gambling and the poker and what-not, but more the general collection of souls on all ends of the spectrum, taking their own shots. The broken and busted rubbing shoulders with the Gucci soled. People tossing their last chip in, the doomed results already written in the slumped curvature of their spines. Reading Homeboy on the plane back, completely fucking blown away by the raw energy and life someone pumped into desperate, printed words.

This isn't going where you think it is. I'm not even really talking about poker. The biggest thing I regret is not giving the writing thing a shot after grad school. I got half of the equation right, as far as knowing myself well enough to realize that I wouldn't get much done trying to juggle a job and writing. I flubbed the other half, though, as far as the timing, as the perfect time to give it a shot was right after grad school, when I had nothing else distracting me. But that's pretty easily rectified, with a little hard work.

So here's the new deal I just cut with myself. Work my ass off for the next three months, as far as assorted business stuff, work stuff, poker stuff, the whole nine yards. All profits get earmarked and squirreled away into a special fund. Quit my job, cash in my vacation time, and add it to whatever I've saved. Pay money from that fund into our joint checking account, at the same rate of pay as my current job produces. Write my ass off until the money runs out.

I can probably buy myself 2-3 months, assuming my poker game doesn't suddenly implode. Which should be more than enough time to finish the short story collection moldering on my hard drive, plus a novel. Then back to the grind, finding a job somewhere, being respectable again, all that good stuff.

That's the current plan, at least. We'll see how long it lasts.