I didn't play poker last night.

For the first time in over three months, I got home from work and didn't play any poker. It was very strange for all parties involved. I got home and went and sat on the couch in front of the TV, my standard pre-April 2004 ritual. "Why didn't you go play poker right away?" she said. "I didn't feel like it," I said. I guess I've been pretty burned out. I've played 97 hours of poker in four weeks. During work, I look forward to getting home and playing poker. But if poker was my job, I would probably have to shoot myself in the face. It is just so damn boring if you want to be a winner, which is why not very many people have a successful career at it, and many more people lose all of their money attemping to.

I've come to the realization that there is no way in hell I could do this full-time. I would become even more socially retarded than I already am. Poker used to be a social activity for me. Now it just alienates me furthur from the human race. I seriously need to consider which direction I am going to go in, and what my motivation is. Do I really love poker? Am I learning and getting better at it? These are things I'm going to have to figure out. I definitely think I have made more and improved more during this 97-hour stretch than I have during any other 97-hour stretch during the past year and a half. I hope that means something positive.

I guess that was the main goal of this blog, to figure out what the fuck I am doing playing poker and write about corpses and razors. If it turns out I can make a decent side income from this, is it really worth it? I don't know if it is.