One Man's Quest For Justice

like that

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 20:16:00 +0000

my last entry on my lingo embellished on the term "gak", which clarified much of my speak currently.

but "like that" and its permutations have become a more common and often misunderstood phrase in my arsenal. here is the entry that will attempt to explain its origins and its pervasiveness.

"like that" otherwise known as LT, first derived from "you like that", aka YLT. as originally explained in an earlier post, this phrase comes from the movie rounders, where the main character sees his friend with an ace of spades tattoo, and the friend says, "you like that?!" what the phrase is ultimately saying there is not only, "do you find this to be enjoyable?", but with a combined, "i know right?" as in, i know how awesome this is and this feeling of mutual like of this thing that we are enjoying is also pretty awesome.

so being the bros and gaks that we were in las vegas, in 2009, the phrase YLT was born. it became shortened to LT, because it still retained its original meaning and was a quicker optimal way to say it.

however, LT became so widely used and changed up, that depending on how LT is said, it can mean a variety of things. kind of like chinese tones, where different inflections can mean different things, LT can also take on a multitude of meanings. LT?

normal - like aforementioned, it means to ask if someone likes something and to bask in the liking together.

greeting - usually just a regular "lt" online, not asking if anything is particularly liked, but more like a "do you like that i'm contacting you" type of thing.

high pitched - this is usually done after the person who says LT did something gute that the person hearing the LT will not like very much (either because it is done at the latter's expense or because the former is being annoying about a certain victory or such) it is also used when the LT signifies something hilarious, as the high pitchedness gives it a certain comic effect.

low pitched and slow - this is the creepy LT, when someone says something kind of awkward on purpose and wants to create an even more awkward moment (probably having some sort of weird sexual undertone to it), only used among close friends as others will surely be weirded out.

other permutations:

there are other phrases that i have used that play on the LT phrase in recent times.

-LT - instead of LT this is a negative LT, aka i don't like that. (replaces IDLT)
LT+ - this is like a comment that likes something with the forcefulness of a like on facebook.

like how - this is a standard filler phrase that can go before any statement to kind of give it more emphasis. (sometimes to convey a sense of complaint)

ex.

"like how, this gak is annoying me so much."

"like how what are you up to tonight?"
"like how, i don't know."

like how like how - otherwise known as LHLH, illustrates when i used LH so often i didn't know what else to say after i said LH, so it just became LHLH.

LAG/WAG - like a gak, what a gak - this is used when someone is being particularly gak-like.

LIG - like it's gute, obv.

questions? comments? LT?

when i was younger (part 4: grief)

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 07:06:00 +0000

i have had interactions with a lot of different people in my childhood. it's weird however, because although our family only moved once (and to a town that was probably 15 minutes away from where i was anyway). some of these interactions would be a one time thing or episodic in nature, family friend get-togethers in far places where the children would play while the parents chattered.

other times there would be friends for a season, where relationships were borne more out of proximity or necessity rather than...i don't know what the proper word for it is, but something sort of like mutuality. people you didn't really necessarily relate to, but you were friends with anyway because there was no one else around. it seemed like that had been a very common experience for me up until high school.

i can remember being close with people who i can't connect with now, even with the wonders of facebook. indeed, i have no idea what has become of my first real crush. she could be dead for all i know, and honestly, i almost think it's not out of the question that she may be. i have memories of these people who may as well not exist in my life at all, i remember their names and what they looked like, but have not heard from them in years. they have vanished, for whatever odd reason. these are people i would have hung out with every day, and considered them close friends, but yet have faded from my life.

that's not to say facebook and other things of the internet hasn't informed me of the goings on of people i used to associate with and befriend. it's weird to see people you know getting married, becoming older, changing the world in lots of different ways. social media has kind of made reunions almost obsolete, technology has made them constantly happen in slow motion, where you know what goes on in other people's lives, but don't necessarily interact with them. those people aren't dead to me exactly, and there is some modicum of relief that they are still around, ready to update me with their most recent posts.

i think what i long for, and what most people want, is permanence. i think about my friend from the maryland area, and his group of friends, people who he has known for a while, and who have all stayed in relative close proximity. the bonds that he shares and the time he invests in his friendships are probably very well spent, as he can count on those people to stay in his life for a long time. in places like nyc, where things are a bit more transient, these kinds of bonds are harder to come by.

i've been fortunate enough to have not gone through a major death in the family or amongst friends, at least something that wasn't unexpected. that is not to say that this won't be an eventuality (though i also believe for some perverse reason that my death may come sooner than old age), but to simply observe that if one were to look at my capacity for grief, it wouldn't seem that great at all. after all, what have i really gone through that has been devastating? this is something that i actually do wonder if it will be detrimental for my craft of acting, in which experiencing pain can be of great inspiration.

but i have experienced grief. growing up, as mostly an outsider, it was easy to go all in on someone who you actually interacted with, no matter how incompatible you were with them, after all, who else was there really to choose from? i believe that compared against most, the number of people who have been important in my life and now nothing is extraordinarily high.

when i was 5, after visiting korea for a few weeks, i had cried apparently for days straight after returning to america, crying until i fell asleep. in america, i had few relationships, and in those weeks, i felt like i had found my family again, only to lose them right back. this kind of emotional response was not uncommon, i can remember multiple times in my childhood where i had cried, knowing that i would not see someone again or for a long time. over years of similar types of experiences, i have become more and more numb. last year, visiting korea for my grandmothers funeral, maybe a day after leaving that family i so desperately cared about , i reverted back to "life goes on".

what changed in high school was that i thought i had finally found some sense of this permanence that i had been longing for. but over the past half decade, i have come to grips with losing that from a particular episode. i guess what i might be trying to get at is that a special person's absence from your life may not make too much of a difference if the absence is created by an external factor or death. i can definitely feel the sting of this pain dull my experience of life.

at some subconscious level, i suppose i believe that people leaving my life so abruptly either had to do with somewhat bad luck or a personal defect. it is probably these cynical thoughts that have hindered my ability to be a philanthrope, and made my misanthropic habits progress.

to lose gracefully.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 05:56:00 +0000

it's been almost three months since i went to vegas. it was familiar, yet foreign, going back there, to a place i hadn't been for around two years. you forget, but just missing one series creates a two year gap, and in two years, the landscape of poker completely changed, yet again. since 2003, really, every year has had a huge change in who's who, what is considered standard play, what the latest drama is going on and the ever increasing level of talent.

5 years ago, i would've said with full confidence that i was in the top 5% of players playing the main event. this year, i think i might barely crack the top 25%. while my skills have progressed, the reality of the landscape is that the game has become more and more accessible to more people who would have a natural talent towards it, and theoretical edges against one another become smaller and smaller.

i now acknowledge that going down to the world series may no longer be a hugely profitable endeavor for me (profitable still, but not as much once you factor in flights, hotels, and other expenses from being in vegas), and did not enjoy the trip overall. i do think that it was a good trip for me to go to overall, to take in the experiences that i did, but i will say that i did not enjoy it this time around for many reasons:

a) many of the players that i was friends with over the years have moved on to different things. as a result, i felt that i was almost "holding the fort" by going, and was only there with one other friend.

b) simply put, it's harder to win now. winning is more fun than losing, obviously.

c) i am not a wide eyed 22 year old anymore. in the poker world, i'm something of a dinosaur, probably around the age where retirement is considered to not be outlandish. it's true, no one wants to be in the grind forever.

going deep in back to back WPT borgata open tournamnets was a nice outcome, even if i came a bit short (7th it seems, is my destiny), and a good reminder that this old dog still has some new tricks left in him. however, i don't plan on playing any other tournaments until next years' WSOP, and perhaps not even then. i will probably only go if i see it being worth my while in terms of fun and enjoyment, than merely just profit.

no one knows how the poker landscape will be in the next couple years, let alone in 5 or 10. i can't make any overarching assumptions and assume that i can plan for how big of a part it will play in my life so i will acknowledge that transitioning to something different may take a while, until something else becomes a much larger part of my life.

here's to keeping myself busy.

you got to take a little dirt to keep what you love.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 07:04:00 +0000

Well you got your reasons
And you got your lies
And you got your manipulations
They cut me down to size.

suffocating.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 01:32:00 +0000

the first day of play was not a good one. i ended up at a table with mostly people who had some sort of clue what they were doing. there were a few softer spots, and i was probably still one of the best players at the table, but it was just hard to get anything going. i was out of position against the tougher players, and couldn't make hands against the weaker ones. a situation that kept arising was when i would open a pot and get 3bet from a player in position, and a 4b bluff by me would commit way too much of my stack to be profitable. as a result, i wasn't really opening a lot of pots and would have to tighten up, which hurt me because i wasn't going to get in a lot of good spots with the fish.

it also didn't help that the two fish at the table were

a) an old guy who played like 5 hands and didn't pay off anything unless he had a big hand.
b) a loose calling guy who seemed to hit every single hand he played...and still managed to only end with around double starting stack. terrible.

the first day was also marred by the fact that i wasn't playing my absolute best. that's what disappoints me the most, that i didn't bring my best game even after trying to prepare myself. there is such a thing as getting too caught up in the moment, and forgetting the fundamentals, and remembering to stick to the game plan. i was playing a bit too fancy in some spots and it ended up costing me. though i'm still in the hunt, and the mistakes i made weren't fatal, every opportunity i have to make the best play needs to be taken if i'm to have any shot at this.

i won't go into specific hands because there's nothing that's too interesting. during the day though, i could feel the heaviness of the moment. there's something about playing at a table where you're not in control, you become more anxious and start forcing the issue when you need to always let the game come to you. it's almost like being a sort of poker martial artist, using your opponents aggression and attacks against them, by adapting and creating. i was trying to force the issue at times, and really i should be calmer, and be thinking more objectively about each situation. it's been difficult.

day 2a is on monday. i have around half average with 60% or so of the field remaining, hopefully i'll fare better. i haven't made a day 3 in five years.

landed.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 21:08:00 +0000

july 2006

my parents did not approve of my poker playing. so my sister obliged and took me to the airport. she might have been convinced to do so because of monetary gifts that came her way when i won my seat in an online qualifier a few days before.

"thanks, see ya later," i said as i got out of the car.

"win lots of money, bitch." she retorted.

this was my third time going to las vegas as a 21+ year old, but this time, it was with a different purpose. in a sense, a poker tournament is essentially a glorified lottery where skill slightly alters the probability of getting your ticket picked. win or lose, a singular event has no real significance in terms of distinguishing anything real in terms of accomplishment, except in the monetary prize that comes at the end of the journey.

the view of the vegas skyline is unlike any other city, especially at night. instantaneously anyone can tell this is vegas, a strange city where pleasure is equated to gaudy buildings, such as an egyptian pyramid, a mock set of buildings that look like new york, a minature eiffel tower, and more. where huge monstrous buildings are contained on mostly contained on one street, also known as "the strip".

there's plenty to think about overlooking the view while the plane is landing. how you're going to prepare yourself for the things that await you in las vegas. for some it's the vices the city has to offer that aren't readily available in their home towns, for others, it's the shows and entertainment (who can resist a good celine outing or a cirque show), and yet for still others, it's the conferences and conventions where their business takes them.

for me, it was something different entirely, the anticipation was preparing my mind, my body, and yes, even my soul and heart for the event that i would be playing. this was the one shot do not miss your chance to blow that eminem was talking about. it was time to make it count. this was going to be a new experience for me, and i wanted to soak it all in as much as i could, and i guess subconsciously, gain from it in a way that was not merely monetary.

"hey, you a poker player?" a guy around 30 or so, asked me from the seat next to me. i had been reading up on harrington on hold em on the plane.

"yeah." it always felt strange kind of saying that, somehow identifying oneself as a poker player seemed very arbitrary.

"you know of any good games in vegas? i'm gonna be playing there with a couple buddies of mine."

"actually, i'm just going down this time to play in the main event at the series."

"oh is that going on right now? man, that's exciting. so you're going to be playing with all those famous people huh? are they any good?"

i laughed off some of his more sillier newbish questions. talking to strangers sometimes is exhausting. we chatted for a bit about the upcoming tournament and vegas, until the plane touched down.

"well, i hope you do well man, i'll be looking for you on tv!"

i thought how silly that comment was. does he know that thousands of players play now every year, and the chances of my appearing were slim? i let more of my ruder comments evaporate in my mind.

i shut down the various things i had been thinking about in my mind, my job, my relationships, my life post college. for some reason, all those thoughts slip from my memory except for this one conversation with this random stranger, where the conversation wasn't anything remotely memorable. i suppose there was something about sharing the experience of anticipation and excitement stuck with me.

--------------------

i've decided to go back to vegas this year. although yes, i've said i retired, the main event is something that really just happens once a year, and i don't think i'd be violating any retirement clauses by playing in this event. it's like saying to a retired basketball player who's playing a game of pick up, "wait you're playing basketball? but you're retired!"

it's really kind of just an event that has a different character all on its own. sure, the dramatics are somewhat artificial and overdone, but there is a quality to it that i can't exactly describe.

that's why i'm going back this time. i still feel like i left something on the table, and i'm going back in order to retrieve it. it's not pride, or money, or anything of that nature. i've realized that a poker player's legacy only really goes so far, and that nowadays, a full career in gambling can sometimes span less than a decade. it's to document and see how the experience is, now 5 years removed from when i first went. it's almost a reunion of sorts. hum, maybe i'll go just as often as i attend college reunions.

for me, it's an examination of the state of poker, not only as a community, and how it coexists with our culture, but for my own feelings and thoughts towards it. i pray that i may be able to extract something useful out of the next week in vegas.

storytelling.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 08:56:00 +0000

as mentioned from my last entry, i would like to posit that a poker player who is good at his craft, has the same characteristics as a good storyteller.

good story telling begins with an awareness of its audience.

any work of art is going to be limited by its audience. a piece of artwork that may be worth millions of dollars may not have any significance to someone who's knowledge or appreciation of art is limited. this is not to say that i have taste in every single art form there is. no one does. i will definitely appreciate Amazing Fantasy 15 more than a jackson pollock.

if we are to compare poker playing to an art form, we must also recognize that there are different levels of awareness when it comes to players. to paraphrase my friend tom, "making advanced plays against newbs is like painting a picasso for a douchey rich guy who has no actual appreciation for it outside of its name, a total waste."

therefore, as a poker player, never fall into the trap of thinking, "well he SHOULD have been thinking along the lines of xyz, because that's obviously logical." a successful player gets into the mind of their opponents, and makes them fulfill their own prophesy.

next, what characterizes most basic stories is narrative structure.

a good poker player is always aware of what he does. that sounds a lot simpler than it actually is. but take into account a simple action such as just looking at your cards. if you do it before the people on your right have to act, there's a possibility that you may give away information that alerts the people on your right to whether or not you have an interest in the hand. but if you do it right when you have to act, the attention is on you, where people may be able to pick up something while you do look at your cards. in this case, the optimal thing to do is to simply look at your hand, but have a consistent thing you do afterwards so that your opponents don't know whether you're going to play or not.

naturally then, everything a player does becomes consistent with some sort of plot line. a good player realizes the plot that he is trying to tell and has already prepared a gameplan for the different outcomes of the story, and what different punchlines he can deliver. he does not try to deviate from that plot line, or his story will fall apart.

there was a hand i played at a casino a long time ago, playing 2/5 no limit hold em. i had picked up 55 in the big blind. an early position raiser opened the action to 25 and three other people called, so i came along for the ride and called. the flop was 864, with no two suits. the flop was checked all the way around (everyone checked). the turn came another 4 bringing a flush draw. i checked as did the original raiser, but then the third player fired 100. two folds came to me, and i called, and the original raiser folded. the river came an offsuit K. i checked, and the player bet 200, and i immediately called. he turned over a busted ace high flush draw for ace high, and became angry that i had called his big bet with such a weak hand. he wondered how i could have called there, as there was so much on the board that beat me?

what he forgot to realize is that merely firing big bets into a pot does not make your hand believably strong. it must be consistent with how a strong hand would normally be played. if he had some sort of set on the flop, he most certainly would not have checked it. he probably would not even check a hand like top pair because he was later to act with a decent hand, to protect his hand from getting drawn out on. on the turn, because a 2nd flush card came, it added a lot of possibility to hands precisely like the one he held, a semi-bluff. on the river, even if he had a hand like a pair flush draw on the turn (like 7c6c, for example), he would not bet it on the river, because he can not be totally confident that his pair of sixes is the best hand (beaten by an 8, or overpair, or a K). so when he bets the river, he is representing a strong hand, but it is not consistent with the fact that he had originally checked the flop. he could have backdoored into a hand like A4 suited, but the more likely scenario was that he had a missed flush draw (there are more combinations).

now this assessment of his story had to do with my assessment of him as a player to begin with. he could have totally been leveling me and made some sort of tricky slowplay or thin value bet (a big bet with not so strong of a hand but confidently getting calls from even weaker hands), but like a well versed storyteller, i had "read plenty of his stories" in the past, and could conclude what kind of plot line he was capable of delivering.

most classic stories have a strong focus on temporality (which includes retention of the past, attention to present action, and protention/future anticipation).

when most professionals break down a hand, or recount a hand to others, they go into history. what they mean is any history that existed prior to the hand, during that session, during any other session where the players involved in the hand were playing with each other, and then during the actual hand itself. any detail is usually helpful, what their opponent said, what they themselves said, what both of their actions were, how they acted during each action, how they reacted, how quickly they acted and the sequence in which their actions were made are all taken into account.

most newbs fail to recount even the most basic of details, such as what position they were in the hand, or the bet sizes, or even who the player was. they are most inwardly focused on the details that do not matter. the reason that they don't have good "poker faces" is not because they are so concentrated on what they have they don't focus at all on what their opponents have, and play in a predictable manner. as it were, they give away the story's climax before it begins, they do not properly lay out the structure before they start, and so a proper audience knows exactly what they're representing.

the forms of poker that have multiple rounds of betting allow for a player to unfold the story of his hand in many different ways. each street (round) becomes a chance for him to make a different kind of move, thereby allowing for creativity. this idea is illustrated best of the concept of range identification. in poker, good players don't actually put a player on one specific hand and go with that unless something changes to make them guess at a different hand. instead, they put player on a "range" of several possible holdings, narrowing it down street by street by process of elimination, as more information becomes available. the skilled player not only makes an action for the current street of the hand, but thinks about how that action will affect future actions and future interpretations of his past actions, laying the groundwork for a complete beginning, middle and end.

finally, a good story allows for many different interpretations and viewpoints.

although playing solid fundamental poker is good, there is always a place for some sort of unpredictability, especially if it can surprise an opponent or exploit an opponent's major weakness. although no story is truly original and has basic rules to make it work, at the same time, most good stories have some sort of unique twist that make them interesting. in the same way, it's always good to stick by a certain playbook when in doubt, but from time to time, it may be wise to throw a curveball every once in a while.

the trick to do this is to make a surprise come out of something you typically do. in a tournament i was once in, i started completing the small blind with most of my hands, because the hand was good enough to try to sneak in a flop but not good enough to stand a reraise before the flop. my big blind partner started picking up on this, and as a response, started being more aggressive when i tried to cheaply see the flop. as a result, the next time i picked up a strong hand, i limped again. as predicted, the big blind shoved his stack and i snapped him off, and ended up busting him out of the tournament. but this play required me to show my opponent the same move repeatedly until he was convinced that he knew what kind of hand i had each time. this enabled me to give him a twist for a surprise ending.

i end this post with two full tilt ads featuring gus hansen that are pretty gute, maybe they'll clarify it a bit:

FAQs

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 07:01:00 +0000

as many poker players who have had the experience of talking with "normals" (i guess the poker player equivalent of muggles), i have run into several typical questions about my line of work. some common questions that any professional would roll their eyes at are:

a) what % of poker is luck and what % is skill?

my answer would be that this is just as easily quantifiable as anything in life, how do you quantify % numbers of skill and luck in any endeavor? does the fact that part of poker is determined by statistics help define that cause? would you say that your particular occupation is 100% skill, that the amount of work you put in it is precisely what determines how much success you achieve? i would almost unequivocally say that this is not the case. this illusion of self determinism is an incorrect assumption is what most people have about their own lives, which is the fallacy that causes them to ask useless questions like this.

what annoys me when i go on to explain this, is that people still ask, no but if you had to say how much % is skill what would you say. ignorant people irk me.

b) do you get free rooms or recognition because you're a poker player?

this is a simple question of incentives. since a hotel/casino doesn't really make that much money from poker players, they don't have that much incentive to keep them around. in fact, poker rooms mostly exist to entice players to come, and then gamble/spend their money at that particular casino (since sometimes even successful poker players will make bad decisions playing in the pit).

so the short simple answer is no, i get no recognition. unless you're a pretty well known player, or you are a regular at a particular casino, you don't really get any preferential treatment.

another corollary question is if i get a free entry to the WSOP every year. again, simple mathematics would probably answer this question. considering that there is probably close to 300 people who have made the final table at the world series from inception, (and around 9 more every year), does it make sense for a casino to dump 3 million+ in a prize pool they are making maybe 6 million from? probably not.

c) isn't it all math? isn't it like that movie 21? do you get taken to a back room if you win too much?

21 was about a team of MIT students who counted cards playing blackjack. the game of blackjack is played against the casino, and in theory, played over the long run with a counting strategy, a gambler should be able to win, because they will be statistically favored over an infinite number of trials.

poker however, is a game that is played against other opponents that have no affiliation with the casino. therefore, no, you won't be taken to a back room if you win (though sometimes you want to make sure you're not being followed to the parking lot in seedier casinos/cardrooms). and because human decisions are involved, it becomes a math problem, yes, but it becomes more complex as strategy becomes described moreso by a game theoretical structure than a purely mathematical formula.

my next entry will go into how that develops, and why i relate good poker playing to story telling.

cut, or you will be cut.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 06:53:00 +0000

so much of poker has drawn a lot of attention from people in recent history:

a) the glamour of being a professional gambler, which has been grossly heightened partly due to poker players self aggrandizement and natural narcissism (one needs to really believe in one's ability and judgment to really excel at poker), and also probably because of recent media portraying gambling in a "cool" light (ocean's eleven, 21, rounders, etc.), but also because of the recent allowance for a wide multitude of players to make a very profitable living off of it.

b) for the players, some of it has been the intellectual side, relating it to merely as a game that is played where money are points to keep score, where complicated bayseian game theory also meets an element of heightened awareness of human psychology (games where money is at risk tend to bring out heightened emotion).

c) our culture has been reevaluating the acceptability of gambling as a normal way of life, by examining the definition of poker as a game of skill or chance, what part the government has in allowing or disallowing it, and ethical debates of the impact of poker on our society.

as i have understood last year, however, there's one aspect of poker that has become more apparent to me. with winners, there are losers. this much is painfully obvious, but that doesn't tell the whole story. in order to be successful at the game, you have to be willing to constantly be on the attack. it might be silly, but you almost have to think of it as a war, in a warrior like mentality. your table mates, are your adversaries. and as hard as it may be you must not harbor good or bad feelings towards them, as both will cloud your judgment.

last september, i played in the WPT at the borgata, where i finished 19th. there was a bit of luck sure, but i think also what was different than from how i had been playing a lot recently was the way i approached each hand. i had been playing with a more robotic mentality when i was playing, and things became just textbook and predictable. i switched from thinking, "i'm merely betting, folding, raising, calling," to thinking, "i am cutting into their stack," visualizing my chips as more of a cutting tool. every bet became a thrust, every fold became a side step, every call became a parry. all necessary moves to gain victory, but all moves that needed to be played at the right time. however, if you're too friendly with your opponents, you may not be as willing to cut them when the time comes. if you're filled with too much enmity towards them, you may become distracted and walk into a trap by another opponent.

there was one hand where i lost focus, and i thought of saving my chips as a measure of safety, when the move was to be aggressive and shove it all in. i was distracted not by my opponent, but by my not accepting that i was in a battle to begin with, and that i was trying to escape it instead of face it. it was because i let my emotion dictate my actions that i didn't win where i should have, where it was better to err on the side of...not caution. it could've made the difference between a late finish and a final table.

5 years ago, when i played in the main event for the first time, i went in with the mentality that i wouldn't play scared and i would play the best i could no matter what and even if the best play seemed risky, because in the grand scheme of things, the $10,000 didn't mean much if i had to live regretting making a poor decision that would cost me what i thought would be my only shot at the WSOP main event. i think i've lost that mentality after a few years, and hope to regain it next month, when i will probably play the main event for the last time...in a while, at least.

vindication

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Thu, 26 May 2011 20:06:00 +0000

for something we all already knew, but californians too stubborn to admit:

shake shack wins taste test

for further reading, my old entry

here.

for good

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Thu, 26 May 2011 06:56:00 +0000

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

unwilling suicide.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Thu, 26 May 2011 06:49:00 +0000

it's ripping apart a part of myself.

i give up the right to argue. i give up the right to make a statement.

and i eat it, become the fool, as i have done many times before. looking like the one who's lost all sanity, a grasp of relative perspective and clarity in reality. maybe i have. maybe i'm crazy. i wouldn't like myself very much if i weren't, though.

so much seems demanded of me. maybe it isn't so much. maybe it seems so much because my capacity to give is so small. maybe that speaks to my overall generosity. that my emotional ability determines my view of how much i can afford.

perhaps it is a good thing, that the thing i feeling in me dying everyday, is in fact a cancerous growth that needs to eventually die. the loose ends that remained unresolved will just become like withering flowers, slowly decaying into nothingness, like accepting a bad ending to a movie. a continual process of "dying to one's self."

i do this all, because one day, i hope to be able to shed my cynicism.

annoyed.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sat, 14 May 2011 14:13:00 +0000

i recently had a conversation with someone who has been a friend of mine for a while which kind of upset me to some degree. there was an aspect of my life that was something i would not attribute to my own efforts but rather out of circumstance that was interesting to him, and although it was fine to open with a question about it, it seemed to consume his whole interest in talking to me. during the convo (it was an online chat), i even wrote like at least 20 lines of text commenting on this whole other subject, and instead of even acknowledging that i said anything, proceeded to just ask more questions on what he wanted to know.

it's just disappointing when you believe that your friendship is deeper than just caring about surface level things that don't really matter, and it becomes apparent that the guy just cares about fulfilling his own agenda, as if you're kind of just there to be a source of entertainment or whatever.

maybe i'm cynical, but i keep coming across more and more people where it's not just that they aren't at that level of intimacy, it's that they really just see other people as a means to an end. these kinds of people also the type to really just seek after meaningless things.

and i'm annoyed because they keep wasting my time.

examination.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sat, 07 May 2011 08:49:00 +0000

perhaps the unexamined life is not worth living, but examining does make living more taxing.

life view.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 04:20:00 +0000

nate: sometimes i wish i could be this complete selfish asshole that didn't give a shit about anything and just work at some mindless job that paid me a fuckload of money. it'd make life a lot easier.

brenda: you don't want life to be easy.

- six feet under

poignant.

Good Friday.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 03:10:00 +0000

for good friday, i mashed up two songs from jars of clay and sufjan stevens, "liquid" and "to be alone with you"

i liked mashing up the songs because after listening to "liquid", what IS the one thing that i know? i decided to answer that question using "to be alone with you" to describe it more fully.

yes i know the quartet part in the beginning looks a bit too fake...i don't really know what happened with the lighting inconsistencies...i'm kind of newb with that stuff.

here are the lyrics that i used:

arms nailed down

are you telling me something

eyes turned out

are you looking for someone

this is the one thing

the one thing that i know

you gave your body to the lonely

they took your clothes

you gave up a wife and a family

you gave your ghost

blood stained brow

were you broken for nothing

arms nailed down

he didn't die for nothing

to be alone with me

you went up on a tree

i never knew the man who loved me

hope you guys like it.

oldies but goodies

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 05:36:00 +0000

been thinking a lot through the book of romans recently, and just was listening through jars of clay's original album (90's and past theme of the month, etc.)

the lyrics in their debut album are just crazy awesome.

"sinking" has been describing a lot of my struggles recently.

an excerpt:

deny myself
deny my heart
deny Your hand
deny Your help
but You offer me
eternity
but why should i buy that?

see that i can play a pretty convincing role
so i don't need You
i don't think i need You

but You see through my forever lies, that You are not believing.
and i see in Your forever eyes, that You are forever healing.

reminiscing the 90's

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 03:54:00 +0000

when everything feels like the movies

yeah you'd bleed just to know you're alive.

- ggd

i am.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 07:05:00 +0000

typical. look at how cliche i am:

i look shorter because of the bean's curvature distortion.

it looks like a frozen bit of mercury.

things about chicago that were meh:

- food (had everything i think that was chicago-an, and was thoroughly unimpressed)
- public transportation

things about chicago that was somewhat legit:

- architecture (if i had more time that'd be what i'd walk around looking at)
- weather (for summers, i can imagine it being a tolerable city to be in during that time)

rewrite.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 07:01:00 +0000

this script is wrong right?

this can't have been where the map said to be.

hum.

back it up...two years, i think i was supposed to take a left when i took a right.

yeah. it was definitely a left.

backtracking that far is gonna suck.

call me emo.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 05:38:00 +0000

but listening to this amidst a crazy moment tonight made me tear up again:

http://owlcityblog.com/2010/10/25/my-hope-is-found/

stumble til you crawl.

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 05:28:00 +0000

so tell me what do I need
when words lose their meaning?

i was spinning free, whoa.
with a little sweet and simple numbing me.

the sweetness will not be concerned with me.

-jimmy eat world

when i was younger (part 3: embarrassment)

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 05:36:00 +0000

when i first started taking violin lessons, they were at a music school in a neighboring town where i lived. lessons would be around 45 minutes long, and they would just be one on one. i can't remember how i even got started playing that instrument, i can't recall uttering a "hey, i would really like to learn this violin thing" when i was 6 years old. i do remember the first exercises not even being about playing the instrument, but making circles with the bow in your hand to get used to the grip.

a few months into lessons, they had this thing called group lessons, where kids would play pieces and other assorted music together. i suppose that was kind of like an introduction to playing in something like an orchestra.

i remember my first group lesson, i had no clue what to expect. i was a total newb, and while it was my first lesson, the other kids seemed to have gone to them before. my mom dropped me off with a roll of life savers in my pocket and my violin.

the kids had all perfected a piece that they all played together in unison. i had no idea what was going on, and the teacher either didn't notice that i wasn't playing, or didn't care. either way, i felt like a complete idiot because there were only like 3 other kids in the group and i was pretty sure i was sticking out like a sore thumb. i didn't really know what to do. i had to do something instead of just standing blankly there...so i started just eating the life savers. just eating them one by one, to try to keep myself busy, as the painfully long lesson dragged on, and until it was all over. it was a prolonged episode of embarrassment, and it was a situation where i wasn't completely sure if people were aware that i had no idea what the fuck was going on, so i didn't want to like leave where i'd definitely draw attention to myself. i was mad at my mom for putting me into this situation, i felt like micky ward in the fighter, putting me into a fight i could not win to get my ass kicked.

eventually, i played better than most of the kids there probably because i was determined not to look like such a fool again. but i hated that that was my motivating factor in playing, to be able to perform, instead of doing it for the love of the music.

i hate fucking being embarrassed.

when i was younger (part 2: books)

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 06:18:00 +0000

my talent for mathematics wasn't that surprising to me. i could trace back to when i was probably like 5, when my dad gave my sister and me books on math to solve. the reason why i probably did them with such fervor was that i was so sheltered at the time (or probably that my parents were too poor to afford anything of fun at that age) that doing math was the only kind of fun i had. in fact, i didn't think it was to any great intelligence of mine (i used to have this theory when i was younger that people who weren't MR had the same basic potential for intelligence), but from just constant repetition and practice.

however, being the parents that my parents were (re: raising harvardian children), my mom was concerned that i wasn't becoming a "well balanced" asian kid, and that i needed some skills in the english department. her solution, was books. lots of books.

i'd always love when i was in grade school when they would bring around those book ordering forms for scholastic, where i'd fill out what i wanted myself (only to have mom knock off a few extraneous items, but she did let me get the occasional calvin and hobbes comic). my mom would also drive me to the library every week to pick out books to read. i can't remember exactly what i got every week, i'm sure they included classic kid books like "the westing game" or "a wrinkle in time", or mystery series like "encyclopedia brown" and every roald dahl book i could find my hands on. when i read a book, i carry it with me wherever i go, couch, dinner table, bathroom, etc. the hardest part was reading on the bed in a comfortable position when i had glasses on (reading on the side required holding the book closer to my face because you can't wear glasses with the head to the side, and reading with the head laid down required me to raise my head some way or use arm strength to hold the book up, and reading with your face downwards required your arms to prop you up, which wouldn't do for hours). i used to be able to read for an entire day (i think i finished harry potter 4 in one sitting).

reading books became another sort of accomplishment thing, kind of like finishing them was a goal. i read through the old testament when i was 9 once just to do it (retaining like 1% of what i read). i think i tried to read through a mini encyclopedia once, but concluded that it was not nearly interesting enough to do that. i would just want to finish everything.

we would probably spend an hour or so in the library, with me just going through my favorite sections, looking for new additions and what not, probably wasting some time in the magazine section looking at video game mags etc. i remember that library pretty clearly, the different sections, the walls where they had a little artistic mural where kids would put up some sort of sticky thing for every book they read for some sort of prize (does anyone ever remember that read a book promotion thing by pizza hut like way back when?), and the card catalog section. i remember looking through the card catalog thing (so archaic now probably), and thinking to myself,

"there are too many books to read. i will never be able to read them all before i die!"

i probably then calculated all the books that would probably actually be of interest to me, narrow it down, but still conclude that there would not be enough time to do it all. it all became very sad, but then i would just reflect on how many lives that have actually existed on earth, and how the people populating it would still just write books too fast for me to consume. it all became very overwhelming, but eventually, i think it clicked that i would eventually just have to carve out a niche of books for myself to enjoy, and that would be that.

soon after, when i started going to high school, i lost that need to burn through books. i wonder if the fact that i would never finish them all deterred me from that thirst. i wonder if that applies in other things in my life now as well.

when i was younger (part 1: routine)

noreply@blogger.com (Doug) — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 04:46:00 +0000

i had a routine growing up and going to school. i would get up probably precisely 15 minutes before i needed to leave the house.

the first 5 minutes were spent getting out of bed and changing into clothes. i coined the term "warm change", when i would stay underneath the covers and change because it was still warm inside the bed. (asian parents tend to keep the temperature a bit chilly during the winter)

the next 5 minutes were eating breakfast, which was a bowl of cereal. cereal would be what i called 2nd tier tasty, which would be the kind that were uncolorful, but still had enough sugar to be palatable. sometimes my mom would mix frosted flakes with corn flakes in order to make it healthier. she knew i would never take reg corn flakes or reg cheerios (without honey) straight up, so sometimes she mixed in sugar or bananas in them. but it'd always be cereal on a school day, i don't believe it was ever different for 12 years.

the last 5 minutes were washing up, brushing teeth etc. this was critical at this juncture, because the bathroom was upstairs, where i had a vantage point to see if the bus was coming.

until high school, i took the bus to school every morning when i was a kid, and i was always the last stop on the bus. i didn't actually really mind (unless i was going to miss a darkwing duck or a batman the animated series episode), because it left me a lot of time to think on the bus. i'd always try to get a window seat, and stare out as we rode, calculating how much time there was left before we got to the dreaded place.

i do remember distinctly thinking about the future often. i would think to myself,

"so, i'm 12 years old, that means i've probably lived around 1/6-1/7th of my life already. man those 12 years went by quick, huh. i wonder if the next 12 years are going to be that fast. i'm only going to have 5-6 more 12 year shots, if that. and, i'm spending most of it at school. then work. yay."

though i wasn't suicidal, i wasn't exactly the most optimistic person on life, either. i went through routine, because i didn't know anything else in life, because i thought this was the way life was going to go on, and i should just accept it. i did have a thirst for meaning beyond what was presented to me, but i think i resigned to "figuring it out" later in life when i thought i would be better equipped to do so. so i went on day after day, going through that routine, in hopes of finally coming to some sort of epiphany.

that epiphany never arrived.