Finally rolling with the cable modem hookup. Woot. Had a decent return to teh online poker last night, bubbling in a tournament at UB but picking up a little bit of scratch at 15/30.
I'm developing a bit of a bad attitude lately, in regards to gambling in general, and I'm not sure how to resolve it. The root of the problem, methinks, is that it's not even a "bad" attitude, in the grander scheme of things. Probably a "good" attitude, if you get down to brass tacks.
I'm finding myself less and less concerned with the money involved, as far as actual dollar amounts. I'm aware of it, in general, as far as where el bankroll stands, but I'm reaching the point where I don't blink at either dropping or winning a buy-in at 15/30. If I continue to shove money at the tables, and shove it in somewhat correct fashion, the odds are that I'll show a decent return on investment at the end of the month. Not guaranteed, obviously, and always accompanied by the occasional downswings, but the general direction, from a pure profit/loss standpoint, is very likely to trend upward.
Which is a very cool thing, and a position I'm very grateful to be in. But, to regress to grunt monkey terms: "Where's the fun in that?"
And I really don't have an answer. Last night was a little odd, in that I got absolutely no pleasure from sitting down and playing online, even after an extended break of a few weeks off. I'm sure part of it is coming back from a weekend of non-stop live poker action, but I was more than a little struck by the ridiculous nature of sitting in front of a monitor, looking at pixels, hitting buttons. As DuggleBogey aptly points out, it's a mistake to say that you could even a trained monkey could play winning online poker, as many monkeys would be too smart to ever become engaged in such a pointless exercise.
(I don't mean to imply that people who aren't winning online are dumber than monkeys. I'm mainly just pointing out the endless, repetitive nature of online poker, and that once you successfully train yourself to act certain ways in certain situations, you have a good shot at winning.)
Or, in simpler terms, I enjoyed myself much more in the half hour I spent playing with our spastic pet rat Sherman, as he ran around the house in a never-ending search for bugs to eat, than in the two hours I spent playing poker.
The real issue lurking beneath all of this is one of commitment, both financial and emotional. I can likely continue to trot along in a nice, profitable safe zone for an indefinite amount of time, making nice supplemental income from poker while exposing myself to a minimum of risk. Which, again, I'm grateful for, as it's nothing to sneeze at. But I worry that it's just going to get harder to make myself put the time in at the tables, as the novelty wears off a bit of playing at higher limits, and the realization continues to set in that after you develop a certain amount of chops, the waters are pretty stagnant and unchanging.
Yeah, I know, cry me a river. I guess all I'm really whining about is that I wish I had more balance in my life right now. I'm not willing to quit the day job and commit to turning my business ventures/poker-playing into a full-time equivalent job, due to the obvious risks involved. Unless I make that leap, though, I'm reasonably pot committed to staying the present course, as I can't currently justify exposing more of my bankroll to 30/60. The day job, however, is completely mindless and unsatisfying, while the poker-playing and business-venturing continue to suck up their allotted weekly time.
All of which is ignoring the fact that the ostensible reason for keeping my monkey ass so constantly busy is to make enough money so I can comfortable take off a year or two and write a few novels. And around and around we go.
Why can't there be about six more hours in each day?