Struck Silent

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 20, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

The only time I am sure I am tired is when I have trouble talking or typing about myself.

Yesterday was a mediocre Sunday session. I final tabled the Sunday Mulligan with the chip lead, but finished fourth. Normally the $8,000+ score would be pretty helpful, but I got destroyed in every other tournament. I played a relatively full schedule and a number of higher-stakes satellites for the SCOOP and WSOP main event. I’m not sure why but I didn’t play the $2,000 events. $500 or $700 for a buy-in I can write off fairly easily, but I made some plan before SCOOP to only play 2ks if I won a satellite with a specific budget. I blew through that and oddly forgot about it.

I don’t even play the $500 events normally, but everyone played too many tables yesterday and I thought I had more than a normal edge.

“That was some go0o0ood toad man.”

I didn’t have as large of one as I expected, especially after TableNinja FT once again flamed out 30 minutes into my session. I also haven’t taken into account that my style has changed, and I don’t bust tournaments as rapidly as I once did. I’m booting up tournaments like I did when I was a reshove monkey who went out all the time, but now tournament life and a shortstack are much more important to me. I feel as if my study has allowed me to handle them more effectively.

I’m very blessed to be on this run. Since I moved into this house a month back I’ve won a Main Event package, two 109s on Party, the Stars $50r, and finished 3rd and 4th in the Full Tilt Multi-Fifty and Mulligan respectively. This has been unexpected as I really only play poker on Tuesdays and Sundays. The schedule for my consultations is getting sold out sooner than before, and I’m having trouble keeping up with demand.

I wonder how much of this run has been because of the new fresh air and open space of my home. My last place was a good grind pad, when it was just me. When my wife lost her place of business and had no where to go I felt fine letting her use space I wasn’t using. Then you have two people working together, customers coming, and I always had to wake up early to clean the place; it got pretty stressful.

We were also just working toward the marriage and the move, and that’s stressful with nothing else going on. My bunker home (there were few windows) didn’t help.

Having to play Medication Roulette has not been fun either. My medication that worked very well for a couple years just stopped working right around this stressful period. Not slightly, but completely. It had been tapering off for a while, but it dropped off in the face of everything. 

Finding the balance with the one new medication I’ve introduced has been difficult. If I take it at this time of day I become tired. If I take this dosage of this I become hyper and have a huge crash. Then I tried to cut one pill out my doctor felt was no longer working. Two weeks in I felt like I was dying. Going back on it held me together for another couple of weeks, and then it wore off again. It doesn’t work that well anymore, but I can’t go off it. It’s like being a drug addict again.

Obviously I understand I am doing much better than years ago. I’m much more stable, controlled, and grateful. I’m far less stressed. There’s just a guilt when I am not grateful. I ran away from home to live in a friend’s garage. I couldn’t have ever imagined all of this. Yet, when I’m tired, when I’m sarcastic, and when I’m just an asshole I’m not honoring what’s been given to me. God has entrusted me with so much and I can’t help but feel I’m blowing it.

Living with my wife has been a joy but also a challenge. She is a talker, a communicator, and go-getter. If she’s not working on her business or the home she’s planning something, a 100 miles per minutes. I don’t know if she has ADD, but she’s doing a great impression. It’s hard for me to sit and work on something for a while, because she’ll be working on something else, asking my opinion, or for a hand. She gets an idea and goes right after it, while I’m more of a “hey, let’s make a schedule a week in advance. And by the way, leave me alone for five hours to read something.”

We’ve had some arguments, which I abhor. It brings up too many bad memories. Yet, I have to admit, most of these have been my doing. I expect my wife to just read me and leave me in my Man Cave (as the therapists would call it) so I can work out this problem that’s been bugging me, or so I can plan for the next few moves financially. She could do something like that and also cook dinner and conduct open heart surgery, so it’s taken some adjustment. I’m learning to divide my focus when need be and be more spontaneous and she’s learning that sometimes a man needs to be focused on one thing and one thing only.

It does no good to beat yourself up but it’s so hard to stay completely together on my medications. It’s hard to focus at times, without a new person to change your rhythm. I wonder if I really need the pills, but public mania I exhibited on my old blog for years and frequent nervous breakdowns would suggest I do.

I wonder what I would be like if I’d never done a drug in my life. I wonder if I’d need to take five pills a day to not start pacing back and forth and imagining conversations that never happened. I wonder if a doctor hadn’t prescribed me an amphetamine when I was in high school, or if a girl I’d liked hadn’t gotten me beer, what I would have been like. I probably would’ve found some other excuse to partake.

It was just so addicting, having your state altered. Aspergian life (read: social retardation) without a care towards social embarrassment. The world was a Grand Theft Auto map.

It’s a scary proposition to think you’ll have to be on medication for the rest of your life. Yet, it’s hard to argue with results. At the lowest point I couldn’t beat NL 50. I couldn’t beat it for a month. I rented a $250.00-a-month apartment specifically because I knew detox wouldn’t be pretty. It took so long to feel normal as myself again.

The first goal with my neurologist was just getting healthy and controlled. That certainly has happened. The stability I find in my job now pales in comparison to any other time in my career.  99% of the time I love my life. I sleep well at nights. I eat well; I’ve put on 40 pounds, and while it’s not muscle, I don’t feel fatter really. I guess my body was just starved for so long.

Mayo does this all Sunday…and Javier will play somehow.

God has helped my mind to heal. God has given me new mental pursuits and coffee to fuel them A good book, a note pad, studying, discussing new concepts with my students, The Bible, MTTs, jazz, there’s so much to feast on in this world.

The only problem is the days where my anti-psychotics knock me flat on my ass.

The Bible says there is wisdom in having many advisers. I’m looking to put together my team. Psychiatrist, neurologist, sports psychologist, coach, dentist, and doctor; they’re all needed. I’m looking to get a full physical here soon, measuring practically everything the doctor can imagine. I’m building a gym in my house so I can run and lift weights while watching training videos. I’m excited for the future.

But really, the dream is now. I can taste it, in this mango smoothie my wife just brought me.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

Go to all my sites or end up like this guy

Heavy Metal Umlaut

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 17, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

I got lemons!

Javier and I at his sushi birthday dinner. Wonder Years was not sighted

In my bedroom, listening to Naty play her older guitar. Hard to get this tuned. Her song, “Peculiar Dream” still always makes me smile.

So lovely the words pound, so lovely she loves me after a break down.

Got her a new cell phone the other day, because the old one crapped out. I believe these new phones are shaped like bars of soap for a reason. If they can’t get you to drop it they’ll just make the damn thing break.

The vendor told me to not install anything on it for a week. It took all my effort to not say, “do you know how fucking stupid that sounds?” He said you want to know for sure if the phone works, before you put any programs on it. I said if a Facebook app doesn’t work on an Android, then the Android doesn’t work, period. The more things get advanced the worse people get at their jobs, the lower the bar is set. 

Laying around on my day off, Friday. We have some pictures from this new phone. The phone is awesome. The camera is so good. I’m playing with this thing too much. Maybe I can write a few words more often and let the pics do the rest of the blogging.

I’m tired. I had a multivitamin this morning, and combined with my normal medications later my stomach was just screaming at me. I felt like Eminem at the height of his opiate addiction, scarfing down Taco Bell to settle his stomach. Only in my case it was Rosti Pollo’s.

Gabby and her baby 

Been teaching the whole week. Got that 50r win on Tuesday after I busted 18th or something in the SCOOP 50r Action Hour. Haven’t played since then. I did sand down and varnish some new couches with my wife. I got a couple new shed/closets put together outside. I had coffee with my wife’s grandmother, and her friend who just had a baby.

I never understood when people babbled on about the “miracle of life.” But looking at this 6-day-old baby all I could think was…how does this happen? If we pooled all the nations money together and focused on creating one of these with all of our machinery we couldn’t do it.

I felt bad for every abortion I’d ever shrugged at. Then, when they handed the child to me, I was terrified. I thought I might crush his tiny fingers by accident, squeezing him just a little too hard, and mess him up for life. I’d never realized how delicate a newborn is. How we were all that helpless once.

My wife and I walked around our friend’s house. It’s nice to be in nature.

No idea if this is her playing the guitar or a slight earthquake. We have many of them in Costa Rica, slight ones, barely felt.

So into my survival brain that I feel angered when one proves color in my surroundings. Talking is difficult. My thoughts wouldn’t be so confining, if I wasn’t always stuck within them. Play a song for me; I will stop paying attention within 10 seconds, even if you stare right at me as you play it.

The tension stops when you crack it, and only then. My Samsung phone uploads to my laptop, which I can view from my Sony desktop, or in my tablet. I’ll roll my eyes back with winged static. I’m not creating anything; I excavate from the flood of not-quite-worthwhile cosas. I don’t know if that is a period or a speck on the screen. I should have left my mind in Buffalo, or Connecticut, or Haverton. Titanic on the flute.

An inundation to my soggy cortex. I use big words to bring mediocre meaning to what’s small, and I probably am not using them right. Flood sound ringtone, or an algae-stained river. I should have left my mind in Buffalo.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

For The Door To Open

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 16, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

The homie Javier and the poodle Mayo on a Sunday

I was arrogant heading into Sunday. In the words of my friends I was “gassed up.” I couldn’t miss for the last couple weeks. I didn’t play the $2,000 SCOOPs, because frankly I can’t afford it playing on my own. I did register for the $500s and such when I normally don’t mind focusing on the $215s. I rightfully assumed my opponents would be overwhelmed with the the 2ks and not paying as good of attention.

I ran up my stacks, but I was unable to utilize many of the tools that allowed me to have those stellar weeks. I was aware of Tilt’s software update throwing off the tracking software, but I decided to play a full schedule there anyway,  rationalizing that Stars would be stealing attention from Tilt players all day. What I didn’t count on was the update destroying my TableNinja’s functionality.

I could have unregistered more, but instead I fought on. I had many deep runs, but nothing panned out. I was unsatisfied with my performance.

2013 is shaping up to be one of the best years of my life. Beyond getting married and moving into my house my consulting services have thankfully been in demand. I am feeling very on every time I play, perhaps because I’m playing less.

With success comes the temptation to push things further. When I play I feel an increasing desire to take lines that would look absurd on paper. I am becoming right more often than not, but when you play based more on timing tells and other subtle clues, the potential for massive error is much greater. I experienced this fully yesterday.

The experience is gratifying however. Yes, losing can be gratifying. To find joy in your work is a rarely acquired luxury. I believe men need to compete, that it’s programmed in our hunter’s DNA. The idea of chiseling away at your game till 0.001% of the poker population can really outplay you is truly gratifying.

The money needs to come secondary. Your bankroll must be respected. It takes far longer to build a large one than to replenish a small one. Once you’ve been fortunate enough to find some success you need to set aside money from the game. With your remaining poker bankroll you need to play with a massive number of buy-ins.

You can’t become obsessed with the rat race and the egotistical pissing for distance matches. Low to Mid takes players often make much more than the high stakes guys you hear about every day.

When the money is taken care of and you stop caring what other people think  then, and only then, you will learn how to play this game.

Sadly, this has taken me eight years to realize.

Right now, I feel dumber than I’ve ever felt as a poker player. That’s how I know I’m on the right track again.

There are so many questions to answer. You start losing in this game the day you think you stop progressing. You start hating this game the day you become entitled, with the belief your system is the best, and the only reason it is frequently being conquered is due to the incompetence and luck of others.

I’d like to think I’m coming closer to understanding the play of such greats as Isildur and Phil Ivey. Obviously, I do not have 1/100th of their natural ability, but through frequent experimentation and mathematical analysis I think I’m getting an idea as to why certain plays of their’s work so much.

I could take a path of arrogance and say “so-and-so hasn’t put the work in I have” but the truth is I need to find all those plays. Maybe I won’t execute them at every perfect time, but by building a more technically sound game I know I am breaking through my faults.

I was reading this piece about Tiger Woods this morning about his controversial decision to take on a coach to readjust his swing. In his late 30′s and reeling after destroying his life, many were saying this decision was the worst idea for Tiger, that he was taking a huge risk when he didn’t have time.

What Tiger realized is he didn’t want a guy who could teach him how to get back to his old game. He knew that wouldn’t function anymore. He had to rebuild and become an entirely new player. Now he’s crushing again. 

It reminded me of Andre Agassi using  Brad Gilbert as a coach, when he was also in his 30′s with his glory days supposedly behind him. The neurotic scrawny Jew is considered an incredible overachiever in tennis. He reached 4th in the world with $5,000,000 in earnings, when seemingly no one thought he was any good.

He professed that he loved to “win ugly.” He’d take the game to stupid shots. He’d hit back so laughably weak…but just right outside of where his opponent was expecting him. He’d get guys feeling awkward, and out of their comfort zone. They’d blink, and he’d be prepared for it. He was never a physical specimen, but he made up for it with hard work.

I was on the road for a long time and I got to see the cyborgs like Faraz Jaka call down with J-high all the time and be right. I’m not like that. Sure, I’ve had my “wow, how did you do that?” moments, but that’s not what I’m aiming for. I prepare for the whole hand in my mind, away from the table and on. I don’t trust my gut as much in the moment as some of my friends do. To make up for it I’ll run simulations for hours to see where each street could take.

I like winning ugly. Much of my strategy is based on plays I’ve observed in my newer students. They are invaluable to listen to, because they haven’t adopted any trend yet.

There were so many times I’d go, “no one ever does this bet for a reason! It’s so obvious you have what you have.” Then, I’d stop for a second. Why don’t I do this bet when I have the opposite of what they have right now?

If only the bad players do these plays then regulars won’t be prepared for it from me. If you dig deeper you might find that mathematically there is a great reason to do what these newer players did. Just nobody has tried it because they’re too embarrassed to be called out in chat, in forums, or by their backers.

I’m loving my work, and that is the greatest gift of all. Come whatever may.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

He Grumbled And Predicted Dire Things, But He Turned Through The Surf To The Shore

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 11, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

And I sent the hornet before you, which drove them out from before you, even the two kings of the Amorites; not with thy sword, nor with thy bow. - Joshua 24:12

You know what would be a completely original idea for starting this blog? I should discuss how long it has been since I last wrote!

I’m coming out ahead on my battles with medication. Not so much with my keyboard. This dinky HP laptop I use to watch movies on and download torrents just drops letters all the time when something is running,but for the life of e Ican’t figure out what is doing it.

Thankfully, my external keyboard seems to work just fine.

My doctor told me after my most recent shutdown that I needed to go back on my Risperidone. My attempt to ease out of that medication failed horribly, with me being disorientated and easily frustrated weeks after terminating it’s use. I slowly tapered off, but it was no use. I fear my mind didn’t always need these anti-psychotics, but they forever will now.

The positive side is I seem to be myself again. I’m pumped for fixing up this new house, whereas before I seemingly had energy for nothing. My wife and I finished sorting out almost all the boxes yesterday, and cleaning up the guestroom. I love how my home feels now. It is like a dream. I never knew I could be this relaxed. God has blessed me so much.

Normal life has been kind to me. My Kindle is my new best friend. I’m rotating between six or seven books at any one time. I finish a chapter and move to another book. I can highlight any passage I find of interest. I love reviewing, and cementing ideas I would have otherwise forgotten should I have been painstakingly dog-eared my books and lost the place. I’m currently learning about the effects of trauma on the human mind, Scientology (and no, not how to get into it) , narrowing down river ranges to make more serious bluffs, how narcissism is disrupting American performance in the international market…and I’m almost finished with The Hunger Games trilogy.

My sister told me to check out the books, and I’m entertained by them, but I feel like they’re more orientated for young girls. I’m just glad to see young women are reading about a woman who can lead a revolution, as opposed to one who can find her way into a clique and a spray tanning booth.

To reclaim my masculinity I just got all the Game of Thrones books. Can’t wait to get into those.

Taking my wife out to run errands is much more enjoyable now with the Kindle. I stay in the car or find a chair and read, and she does the heavy Spanish lifting. I pause to confer with her on any big decisions. I know it’s not fair, but she’s just thankful for my company, and I’m not going to be gaudy and go off on what I contribute.

Taking my old medication again has seemingly really helped my game and coaching. My one real horse (he plays $6.00 tournaments and he’s a personal friend; don’t send me an application) popped off his biggest score,  citing my most recent classes as having helped him greatly. I won two $109s on Party and finished 3rd in their massive Multi-Fifty on Sunday. Having three final tables with two wins over three sessions was a great feeling.

Yet, I’m perturbed by how I take three different kinds of medications now. Two to keep me from pacing back and forth and muttering things while my eyes open at altering sizes, and one to make sure I’m not stuck to my chair all day due to the effects of the first two pills. I wonder if one day all this dueling chemical assistance will leave me with Parkinson’s, but I’ve never been more consistent in my work and my wife and I are extremely happy. What am I going to do? Go back to pulling the hair off my legs?

Thank you to everyone who wrote a concerned email to me after the last couple blog posts. I really appreciate it. It’s hard to not feel like a disingenuously disgusting narcissist when you have chosen to promote yourself as much as I do. Please know I feel the worst when you guys reach out and I don’t get back to you in a timely manner. I just field so many business emails and calls that I’m in the clouds most of the day, and when the wear of my previous decisions arises I’m even worse at going beyond my necessary work.

I’m terrified again to be stable. When I look around at times my mind warbles. God has blessed me so much, when I was so selfish and horrible with previous gifts that were given to me. To get a second chance is…impossible to put into words.

My nervous system is set to a different rhythm, and it is not peace, quiet, and  contentment. I’m afraid the background noise will come back into focus, and I will undo myself again.

I fear God. I have been incredibly weak before. I have lost before. It was all my fault, and I heartily deserved it.

Yet the fear is also respect. I know the American ideal of one individual conquering the world is a damned lie.

I study The Bible. I pray. I stay sober. I hug my wife more, and tell her how much her goofiness and smiles make me happy. I read more books. I see my neurologist, and actually pay attention to what he says. And through all of this, I am feeling stronger and more capable than I have ever felt in my life.

However, I get the idea that once I want to believe everything is within my power, that the reason I am succeeding is because of how damn good I am, it will all wash away again.

The anger used to keep me focused. Thank God it has dissipated and been replaced.

Whoever disregards discipline comes to poverty and shame, but whoever heeds correction is honored. A longing fulfilled is sweet to the soul, but fools detest turning from evil. - Proverbs 13:18 – 19

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

It’s Taken Me 50,000 Separate Wrecks To Get Here And I’ve Learned Absolutely Nothing

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 4, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

I always expect something to piss me off when I open my email.

The new medication has faltered. I have been unable to replace the one I was on for a few years. The first couple of weeks were exciting serotonin-fueled trips, but now I’m angry all the time and going off at the smallest transgression.

Some say you don’t need medication. They created anti-psychotics that would keep you coming back for more.

Keyboard starts malfunctioning and dropping letters. Brain stops carrying all the unnecessary messages, but forgets to bring some of the correct ones as well. It’s harder to get up or to point anything out. You knock into things more often. The mind is muddled.

Yet I’m stable. Not going to mess this up.

A world of information at your fingertips. If you could just stop refreshing your Facebook page.

If I could only see what’s around me.

I tore down half the neurons and life took the other half.

A world of information at your fingertips. If you could only stop watching Mayweather not punch that guy.

Gut gets bigger. Eat more sweets. Drink six cups of coffee a day. Slumber, peacefully, medicated.

Wake up one day. Hate your gut. For two weeks run every day, do push-ups, scream into the night air as you thump your chest to Haste The Day, and tone up. Then start eating cookies again.

World improves. Mind slows.

Convalescence: CR

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on May 3, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

I wrote a blog that scared me. Mostly because I’m acting holier than thou, like Paulo Coelho. There needs to be a transition. I can’t write the same thing over and over. There will still be more casual blogs, because those are more fun for me to write.

I am healing in Costa Rica. I am not working much.

My house looks wonderful, as long as you don’t peek into the guest bedroom. I will unload those boxes in an upcoming day. My new custom-built chair and desk are coming today. I am looking forward to moving from the splintered $30.00 desks I have been knocking together.

I guess I could have used my old desk, but my maid adopted it in the kitchen. It wasn’t really a desk; more of a long table I converted.

I’m perplexed by my lack of interest in playing MTTs. I have had a number of winning sessions in a row. I made $15,000+ last Sunday. I cashed the Pokerfest 1k, the Full Tilt and Stars major, and won a Main Event Passport Package. I had a great time with my student Javier here. I just can’t summon the desire to play again. Maybe my new ergonomic chair will do the trick.

Next week I will be back in the swing of things, doing three lessons a day, finishing the Pocketfives videos I’ve begun. I look forward to it all until I think of how much there is to do, then my back tenses uncontrollably and I don’t want to do a thing.

That is no reflection on what I do for a living. I love my work. It has more to do with my lack of stress management, likely brought upon by a lifetime of bathing my nerve endings in stress and drugs.

It’s twofold. I enjoy getting to work and completing goals, but I’ve been on overdrive for years. I think most of my working days since 18 were 12+ hours. I literally cannot remember the last time I took two days off. When I did work eight hours in past couple years I’d then take 2 to 4 to do some errand for the house. Lately it’s been a whirlwind of convoluted tasks; my residence, my marriage, moving…My friend Ron asked me one time, “when was the last time you took a day to do absolutely nothing?” I couldn’t come up with the answer.

I know, I know – how sad, another successful MTTer with problems. I realize how tepid that comes off. I wish to write an honest blog, and this is the only truth I know.

In short, I’m a wreck. I’ve been breaking myself for seven years, before I even knew what for.

I’ve reached the finish line, and I’m exhausted. I had my head so far up in the clouds I never even looked down. I’m waking up next to my beautiful new wife every day. I have all the books, electronics, and video games I wanted as a kid. I have a dog and a yard.

I sought to accomplish yesterday the task Ron charged me with, taking a day to do nothing. It was very enjoyable. I read The Bible. I watched Death Note. I played Yakuza on PS2 for hours. I wanted it to be more like Shenmue. I enjoyed all the fighting. Then I was annoyed by it. Why can’t I play anything in the Sega arcade or go on more side missions?

I went to the mall. I ate steak and Mrs. Fields cookies. I saw a horrible comedy, but laughed my ass off anyway with my wife.

It was all excellent, and yet there’s some film over everything. My mother referred to it as the genetic “gift that keeps on giving.” It’s why so many I know have bowed out. It’s more pronounced after my years of drug use.

There’s nothing else to do but fight. I enjoy Costa Rica because here if you’re an asshole to people you’re not seen as “mysterious” or a “boss” – you’re just an asshole. You’re expected to laugh along with jokes and greet people cordially. It’s part of the fight. The more you make yourself smile throughout the day or join in with the family’s jokes the better you feel.

My wife is a physical therapist. We’ve been cramped in a small living and working area for a year, which has made us anxious. Now, with the sun coming in through open doors, we’re doing exercise in the mornings, before she gives me therapy.

She makes me balance as I lift weights. It is torture. My back is destroyed after years of slumping in a chair. But I’m feeling better.

I’m trying to drink more water and cook more meals at home. The medication I am taking seems to be stable, but I’m still making it a point to go to another neurologist for a second opinion. I’m trying to take all my pills at the same time. I’m setting up dentist appointments to fix all my missing teeth. I’m building a home gym.

There’s a peace. Smelling the fresh mountain air. Washing your face in the clean waters. Drinking organic coffee. Reading while the birds sing.

I don’t know many people who have been around poker as long as I have. They grind out. They stop finding new ideas. The money doesn’t do it for them anymore, so they gamble higher till that’s gone too. They don’t recover.

So many guys we used to look up to blew their mind out on drugs or folded into a gambling addiction. They just don’t keep blogs.

It’s an escape, poker. When you’re grinding there’s no other responsibilities. You’re making money, and that’s what this new world is about right? Don’t bother me to clean up after myself or drive you somewhere. Don’t interrupt me with an invitation to go out. I’m a boss, yo.

Until you find you’re weak. I was lucky to go broke when I did. With that one bedroom I just studied again, something I hadn’t done for years. It all came back, after I couldn’t beat 50 NL for a while.

I’m in a better position than I have ever been in my life. I don’t have the novelty excitement for poker anymore. I do have the love for the game. I do have the support of so many different people. For that I am blessed. I will show appreciation through the effort I give.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

A Doctor Named Gentles

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on April 30, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

There is so much in this world worth recording. I only wish I had the time to weave in everything one person could see into some historic piece. Yet, while my capuring 0.01% of what is around me is beyond possible, we are all living this narrative. The impossibility of this existence overwhelms me regularly.

When you don´t blog for a while you worry about returning to writing. There´s so much ground to cover. So you stall. By trying to cover everything you end up covering nothing.

I am more serene right now than I ever have been in my life. In the last couple of weeks I’ve gotten married and moved into a new house. The marriage went swimmingly. We had three photographers, so I will leave the memorization of the event up to them. At one point my wife’s stepfather had someone reflecting light onto us.

Look at everyone enjoying that sun

We got married at sunset, so the light was more piercing and directed than normal anyway. In the pictures, we look considerably pissed off to be getting married. That was us trying to see through all the camera’s lighting.

Aside from that, and me forgetting my belt, everything went well. No one laughed at my vows in Spanish. I didn’t embarrass myself too much stumbling through the Spanish procession. The weather held out, even with dark clouds on the horizon. The priest did remind me it was a public event when I kissed Naty, which gave me a laugh.

My good friends were there along with everyone in Naty’s extended family. No words could express how loving they have been with me during my time here. I was nervous going in, but looking out into that small group of people gave me an assurance. It also makes me more anxious to get back to the states to celebrate with my family there.

My friend Ron came into town for the wedding and helped us move afterward. I can’t believe what a good sport he was about it. In a way, I felt guilty. With my old house’s owner breathing down my neck I really had to move out quickly, and then Naty had all her things too. I’ve moved 14 times since I turned 18, but I’ve never moved with another person. Deciding what furniture leaves and stays, dividing closets, all of this was new to me. It took more days than I thought to move everything, and coming off the stress of arranging the wedding Naty and I had some spats.

Fortunately, I seemed to have the good sense to just for a walk whenever one of us was feeling overloaded. I even found a field that overlooked San Jose. There was a patch in the bushes with a place to lay down. Even in times of anger you can find little secret levels in the world.

I’ve also been changing what drugs I’ve been using for years. That was a loop, handling a move and wedding with changing medications. I felt like my mood just swayed every five minutes at different times. Thankfully, it seems to have stabilized.

With Ron here we gambled a lot at the arcade, went drinking around UCR (well, he did, I drank water and Red Bull), checked out the water slides at some country club near Parque Del Este, and visited downtown San Jose and Central Market. He seemed to have a great time, but I was hoping we’d have time to go to Manuel Antonio or something.

I’m just getting back into the swing of things now. I have a Pocarr lecture to do in 45 minutes as I write this. I have to finish their videos for tonight. There’s 400+ emails in my two accounts, and a bunch of boxes to unload.

Still, I feel much less stressed here. My old house was a bunker and really safe, but not much sunlight or air got in. Once the meds dulled my OCD and paranoia a bit I realized there wasn’t much need for three walls of security.

I’m outside as I write this, taking my coffee, feeling the breeze. There’s so much more space in this house. It’s much cooler climate-wise, which appeases my fifth-generation Alaskan sensibilities. I’m calm here.

This IP runs hot too. The first Sunday I played here I won a Main Event Passport from Pokerstars. That felt great. Since I’m on my own again those $10,000 events rack up pretty quickly. There was no way I was missing the WSOP Main Event, so it was nice to just win the first satellite I entered, especially considering I was 0 for 20 or something with PCA sats.

Well, I have to keep straightening out this house and make Pocarr a more robust stable. Until next time boys and girls.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

Generation Me

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on April 18, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

I’ve been fascinated with the idea lately that an attitude of entitlement is what sinks 90% of professional players. My unsubstantiated claim was always supported by the hundreds of MTTers I spoke to daily; the ones from war torn or socioeconomically-challenged countries seemed to last the longest and be the happiest about their new situation.

I just read this book called Generation Me about what exactly stifles the growth of young Americans. Mrs. Jean M. Twenge makes a very convincing argument that the country’s focus on young people ‘feeling good’ about themselves, oftentimes for no reason than their being born, is making them narcissistic and unprepared for the real world.

The particularly striking conjecture she makes is that telling children they can “be anything they want to be” and that college education is absolutely necessary for success is cruel given rising taxes, education, healthcare, and housing costs in the USA. Less young people with a degree are getting hired, and often they go broke upon having their first child. These are the same people who were told they need to feel happy all the time AND fulfilled.

While her blatantly yuppie background does embarrassingly come through at times (“young people can’t even afford a decent condo now!”) I felt I learned a lot from the book. Mrs. Twenge did an inhumane amount of research, and the final product shows it. I definitely feel like I understand the people I grew up with and the attitudes of older generations much more now.

http://www.amazon.com/Generation-Americans-Confident-Assertive-Entitled/dp/0743276981

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato

The Snow Muffled The Concussion

Posted by Alex Fitzgerald on April 12, 2013 · Leave a Comment (Edit)

Everything makes sense in the group hug.

My fiance, who will officially change her title to ‘wife’ in eight days, pouts after I answer her distractedly while working. I turn to her and open my arms playfully. Mayo, my poodle, takes a running sprint up to my lap. He buries his little head into my T-shirt. Naty hugs me anyway, sandwiching our furry friend in the middle.

I’m tuned out much of the time. My writing has evolved and devolved into concise sentences, just as my mind has sought to chop apart my thoughts. It becomes increasingly difficult to blog, what with my work load. My attention span does me no favors, siding with a few minuting jotting down a thought or a book review on Facebook. It’s more attractive, that instance response for my colorless injection. I never bother to read the emails or comments about my blog. Their thoughts are more personal, so I’m a poser with a built-in asshole shield.

Would it really be my time if it weren’t busy? A writer challenged their readers with a thought the other day, that many people stay busy to numb themselves from feeling what’s actually bothering them. I could have spit the idea was so simple and true.

But I do love to stay busy, and I’m getting more than my allotted fix lately. The new One Outer show is gaining a good deal of traction, as my permanent stoner accent meets the down-to-earth jibes of my Scottish host. We tackle a number of questions about MTTs from my fans and students. It’s a great fit, because I’d love to answer everyone who writes me, because I’ve never done anything that substantial and not that many people send in questions. However, there’s not enough hours in the day to do so by mail. This way, we answer multiple people at a time when they have one question, and Barry Chalmers and I get a good deal of advertising out of it.

I have articles coming out in WPT magazine, Bluff, and Pocketfives. Pocketfives Training is putting out my latest series, and it’s been a success. I was going to write ‘overwhelming,” but when everyone describes their success or response to be overwhelming the word tends to become meaningless.

I was reading Tri Ngyuen’s book the other day, and he discussed at length why it was important to monetize your poker knowledge. I think I’ve taken it a little far. I’m only really playing Sundays. He also speaks of the great disadvantage people with normal jobs have when they try to get into poker. Years ago I would have said, “nonsense.” I worked security eight hours a day and then player poker for ten hours when I was fresh out of high school. I ended up building a roll and going pro.

Now, I completely understand. I’m so wiped out every afternoon from  hours of consultations in the morning, a lecture, a group discussion with my horses, with writing scouting reports for other backing houses, writing an article, or shooting a training video that I don’t want to play. I don’t think I’d be dead money, but I certainly wouldn’t enjoy it. I’m already up a buy-in or two from the highest cash games I grinded consistently. That used to take me eight exhausting hours to do. Then I’d go play MTTs for some backer I’d foolishly gotten into six figures of makeup with, because I just had to play every EPT. The process was exhausting. I used and abused much to reignite the initial excitement of my poker addiction. When I came back to Earth I found that spark had only waned further away.

I didn’t have much to show for my first five years in poker. Now I’m getting married and moving to a new house. I’ve saved up to create my respite. There’s enough for a real oak desk and (I have to look this word up because I’ve never used it or written it) ergonemic chairs, mice, and keyboards. It’s up in the hills, with that mountain temperature I like. I can’t wait to have my coffee and read a book outside again. There’s more space; for a library, an exercise room, and a therapy room. My treadmill will come equipped with a flat screen and a laptop, so I can study training videos while I work out.

A great example of the oh-so-comfortable grind stations I’ve utilized for most of my career.

It’s everything I could have wanted as a kid. I’ve left the rat race of the United States and succeeded. My soon-to-be-wife is as gorgeous as she is devoted. God has blessed me in every way imaginable, after I predictably lost everything living my life wrong. It was a lot of work, and it hurt, but I’ve come out more satisfied than I’ve ever been in my life.

That doesn’t mean I’m completed tranquil. I’m going especially nuts with each delay in the paper work for my new abode. Nobody seems to do anything on time or correctly anymore. The owners of the house I’m renting are breathing down my neck, telling me to get out, and I don’t know for sure yet if I got the dream house. Growing up how I did has left a permanent wary and cynical imprint. I have emotional allergic reactions to wide variety of stimuli. Some would question if I really realize how good I have it.

I wonder what the end game is. I love to play poker, but I don’t love it how I used to. I’ve been doing it for so long. It feels as if my mind is melting with all the situations. It feels as if poker is all I am. I’m ten times the player and professional I was when I blew my chip lead at PCA. I felt my drinking contributed to my exhausting that year so I stopped completely. I felt my strategy was dated and too high variance in the common MTTer pool, so I completely rehauled it. I have no regrets.

That makes me contented. I just don’t have this drive to go play every tournament anymore. That came from a place of insecurity, at least with me. I know I’m a hardworking professional who can hang with anyone in his chosen field. Right now I’m not progressing as far as actual playing, but when the house is bought, your mom’s in a home, the bills are paid, and there’s money in the bank account then you can worry about chasing glory again. Why would I deny myself an opportunity to be retired by 30 for a career path of instability?

It’s pure joy when I play Sundays now because the money doesn’t worry me anymore. I can’t wait to fix my database and get my new computer in my new grind station, and play cash again. There’s so much to see in every situation now. Yet, they are concepts I’m not entirely sure I would have absorbed if I were worrying about making money from playing. Oddly, when I don’t worry about the money, I seem to do much better.

I’m meeting with a number of counselors and therapists now before I get married. Just like my students get coaching from a professional before they attend a big tournament I know I need to do the same. I can’t really think of anyone off the top of my head in my family who had their first marriage work out. I’m assuming that means my education in this matter is lacking.

The one I spoke to yesterday used the term anhedonia when I consistently described how I’m more shut down emotionally in person. I used to complain a lot in my blog, but I wasn’t chemically myself then. In a way it was good. I was venting what I felt.

I don’t talk about anything that’s bothering me. I never like admitting I’m sick; I’d rather ignore it. It’s a disgrace to not work during harvest. I think many poker professionals deny themselves emotional investment. Perhaps it has to do with the financial ups and downs. For most people making $100,000+ in one day would be the highlight of their life. Once you do it five times and realize the nature of your work will eat into those gains, maybe it doesn’t feel as good anymore.

If there’s one thing Naty, my soon-to-be-wife, has taught me about it’s enjoying the small things. Laughing for no good reason. Chasing the dog. Acting jaded doesn’t show you’re mature or that you understand the world. It’s means you take pride in how lifeless you act.

My mind will never operate the same way again. You can’t drive a car on an empty gas tank through the mud at top speed every day for years and expect it’s engine to purr. I can revel in the little moments. I can take joy in the more mundane parts of my day. If you don’t want to pay bills or get pants fitted you can just stay stoned on your couch at home.

It always catches up. We were supposed to be social animals. I don’t know people more miserable than the citizens of my country, and especially the ones in my home city. I also do not know of another country where parents consistently ask their four-year-old children, “what do you want to do now?” Perhaps building this creed of self-glorification fused with Nike telling you “IT’S YOUR WORLD!!!” is what makes people depressed. But I digress, I’ve ranted about this before.

I think I’ve succeeded for the same reason I never think to buy myself a nice office chair: My self-esteem really is that nonexistent. Now, Naty and these therapists are training me to express myself, even though I wouldn’t dream of showing weakness to an opponent or student (well, without a strategic intention). In conjunction with my new medication this seems to be working. Instead of being silent for a month and then flipping out when I spill three of my corn flakes on the table, I’ve improved at going, “I…feel…overwhelmed.”

I’ve taken to another day off each week. I had one before, but it always got eaten up by all the day-to-day errands. Now, with my new Kindle Fire, I’m reading more than I have in years. I’m laying around watching more Death Note and playing my Bully ROM on the modded PS2. I’m chilling. It feels good.

Now I just have to accept my deranged focus, write my vows in Spanish, fix my dress pants, smile and make this day more special for the best woman I’ve ever, get this house, move, secure the newest grind fortress, go to my therapy sessions, take my meds, win a Sunday tournament again,  exhibit some entitlement and buy the things I need and want, and keeping running this business. Seems simple.

My Plugs: Check out my vids at Pocketfives Training, contact me for lessons at assassinatocoaching@gmail.com, see other stuff I write with my friends at www.pokerheadrush.com, and follow my Twitter @TheAssassinato and Facebook at www.Facebook.com/Assassinato