The magic 8 ball is stuck

Today I made an unusual amount of progress when it comes to planning my career future. You’d think that would be a good thing:

I got caught up with a very knowledgeable close friend (a fellow advantage gambling pro), and found out some info that may cut down on the prep time that I need to do in my new city. Talked to another friend in that industry, and she said that she’d like for me to work with her at her company in that city. Looked at the latest environment for other 9 to 5 jobs in my “traditional” work field of recent years.

Realized that it might be worth a shot to turn my second wind of baseball card involvement into a side business on ebay. Talked with that knowledgeable friend above about that too, since he used to be a full-time seller years ago.

Unfortunately, these were the results:

Advantage gambling part to full time: The profitable opportunities are still not very plentiful for someone in my situation. Outlook not so good

Working that 9 to 5 with my friend: Her heart in the right place, but it’s just tough to see her following through with that (and it working out). Outlook not so good.

Other 9 to 5 jobs: Naturally places don’t seem to be focused on hiring at the moment for white collar work. Tough to tell how long it will take the world to get back to normal. Outlook not so good.

Selling cards as a side business on ebay: With all the competition out there (and the ebay fees and other transaction costs to buy and sell), it’s just tough to get the profit margins needed for a one-person operation that can’t sell in bulk. Even with my experience in that business. Outlook not so good.

Yup. The magic 8 ball appears to be stuck.

My past choices have gotten me painted into this corner, and now it’s gonna be tough to avoid paying the price for them. And needless to say, having to wait on the world to begin functioning again just makes things more difficult.

It might be kinda boring to just work in a cubicle all your life. To know exactly what the next day will be. Bring home that same paycheck, pay those same bills, and then do it all over and over and over again. But at least it’s normal.

My life is not normal.

Frozen again….but not for the usual reasons

This entry is going to sound selfish. Basically because I’ve spent my non-anonymous life looking out for society in the last few weeks. So, the selfish part of things is ending up here.

Back on March 11, I was about 12 hours away from leaving on a road trip that was the first step in preparing for the next part of life. Then that evening, the NBA suspended the rest of its season. By the following morning, you could already tell that other shutdown dominoes were likely to fall before long. There was no point in going on the trip, because I need to see my target city with its normal everyday life to make the best decisions about my future.

I was expecting to reschedule everything for a couple months later. Not good, but things could’ve been a lot worse.

And then, well, the last 11 days hit us. The “a lot worse” part did happen, and just that fast.

Now the dynamics have changed. If this mess continues for many months (and I have optimistic reasons to think that maybe it won’t, but still)……then beginning a new life again will be much more problematic. Cause while I had timed my plans in just the needed way, there wasn’t a whole lot of wiggle room. Given when my lease runs out, that was largely out of my control.

It wouldn’t have probably mattered, though. Had it not been for the world shutting down.

Now, I don’t know what finding a new 9 to 5 job in the new city will be like, if I choose to go that route. It certainly will be a much worse world to get hired in for quite some time, especially for white collar work. Regardless of when corona has run its course.

And like many people, income and livelihood issues could come into play. Stuff I would’ve had under control, if it weren’t for these unprecedented times. I have my apartment through the end of April, and as that time nears, I’ll take some next steps based on how everything has progressed between now and then.

But until then, life is frozen. And for once, it’s not because of my own issues. Quite surreal.

Not sure which version of time freezing is worse. But neither is healthy for someone, and having to fight two versions of it at once is not fun.

Especially for a depressive loner.

Misery does “not” love company

While I realize how that title cliche…without my adjustment, of course….. partially implies that some unhappy people want others to be miserable too (to feel better about themselves), I have never agreed with the other interpretation that miserable people want to actually be around other miserable ones. IME, those who are unhappy and depressed are more likely to push others away (either directly or indirectly). And personally, I am never comfortable with my issues or any negativity adversely affecting others.

Back when I was doing well in my career, this wasn’t quite as much of a problem. Some of us few people who earn a living at either financial market trading or advantage gambling tend to meet each other eventually at some point. It’s a fairly unique (and very difficult) combination skillset, mindset, and knowledge mix that most don’t possess, and so there’s an underlying respect for anyone who can support themselves that way.

Unless you mess it up, that is.

You see, my friends from that walk of life have not dealt with most of my problems and failures. They may not have the most healthy overall mindset and ways of enjoying their daily existence (even the ones who are married with kids), but at least they are still able to keep their edge. Both careerwise and overall in life.

So when I started to have my worst times in recent years (the ones that, for the first time, I haven’t been able to dig out of), that made the rest of my life worse as well. Beyond anything financially. Not only was there the hurt of losing what I had, but there’s also the shame of being the only failure among my mix of friends and confidants in the trading/advantage gambling world.

I’m not one who spends much time concerned about what others think of me, but this was an exception to that rule. Losing the respect of those uniquely successful people is a hit to your pride. And while only one of them has ever really shown that he thinks less of me now than he did a dozen years ago (and that one, ironically, is by far the least skilled of them all), I know that they’re all thinking it.

How could they not? After all, I am the ONLY one out of that circle who isn’t still a successful person with a better life. The only one who became a screwup. The only one who doesn’t have the freedom to do what he wants anymore.

As you can imagine, that has just fueled my loner tendencies that much more. I barely keep in touch with any of those guys lately. Not only because of the shame and embarrassment, but because I’m not part of their world nearly as much now. They’re the ones still plugging away to make a nice living, while I’m still mostly back at square one.

It’s yet another part of my life that’s worse than it used to be. This downward spiral has taken so, so much.

The only question now is: how much of this lost life can I ever manage to get back?

Depression. All signs are not the same.

As I sit here listening to Enigma’s MCMXC a.D. album (amazing escapist music, especially the first half of the album), it’s a reminder of my early 20s, when the roots of my lifelong depression were firmly sunken in and I felt the worst emotional pain of my life. I listened to this album often then, as I sat alone in the dark and the tears flowed.

Those who’ve read my blog may be surprised by that, since I’ve written so much about my troubles in recent years. But the thing is, this current time period hasn’t really been about “pain”; it’s been mostly about regret, frustration, hopelessness, and, most of all, emptiness. I am a shell of my former self (both physically and emotionally), and that makes you somewhat impervious to feeling that hurt. By anyone or anything.

But back in those earlier years, it felt like I still had a lot more to live for down the road. And I had yet to get through the emotionally crushing basis that began my depression. It was a much different way of feeling so down about life.

I’ve always felt that the past pain was worse than the current emptiness. But lately, I’m not so sure.

At least then I felt something.

Baseball good ol’ days, part 2 of 2

My other baseball story from awhile back was about team glory. This one is about personal accomplishment, and I imagine anyone who loved being on the diamond as a kid can relate.

Late spring 1987. The goody good suburban ’80s were in full swing in my hometown, and my best time of the year was about to start: Little League baseball.

You see, the older kids had the limelight of football and basketball. But when you were a tween, the youth sports world revolved around one place: what was (at the time) the only LL field in town, right next to the high school football field. If you were a player during that time of year, you often wore your team’s jersey to school on game days (just like the HS football players did). This was serious biz.

The bleachers were always full of people watching, and there was even a food concession stand there too. And in clear view at that stand was always a list of everyone who had hit a home run that season (along with how many).

I didn’t simply want to get on that list. I HAD to.

It was always a childhood fantasy to hit one out. Not in the backyard (that was nothing), but during a real game. With the fans reacting and the scoreboard changing. During my 10 and 11 year old LL seasons, that hadn’t happened, but it didn’t bother me at all (as very few guys would hit homers at that field before their last season as 12 year olds).

Now, it was time. And before that final season began, my dad noticed a hitch in my swing that I’d developed (which led to us combining to come up with an adjustment at the plate that gave my bat more pop). Clearing the fence at that field was now easy in practice. I just had to do it when it counted.

Early in the season, I hit one off the base of the fence. A few games later, a deep shot clanged square off the top of it. So it only seemed like a matter of time, especially since I hadn’t really gotten into one yet.

But to my surprise and, before long, ever-growing frustration, it continued to elude me.

Before I knew it, the season was halfway over. At that point I started to press and went into a slump for a couple weeks, which just made things worse. Took a deep breath and got back on track eventually, but by then, I had almost run out of chances. All that was left was the short postseason (single elimination) tournament. Since we had only won three games all year, that meant that I probably had only one more shot.

Sure there were the all star games coming up too, but I couldn’t count on that. Plus, it just wouldn’t have been the same. It only seemed right to do it on my home field.

I singled in my first at bat. My next time up, we were ahead 2-1 with runners on second and third. A teammate yelled “we need these ribbies”.

The pitcher (and yes I remember who it was, but not saying here) laid one right down the middle. I swung. A long line drive took off to left field. And….

I didn’t even see what happened next. Why? Because my dad and I always made a point for the hitter to never watch the ball on his way to first base. Even in this spot, I held true to that. Despite the fact that I wasn’t sure if it was too much of a liner to get out.

So I only heard a unique roar from our side of the stands. Given that no one else on our team had homered all year, I knew what that meant. As I was getting to first base, I finally saw the left fielder at the fence, looking calmly beyond it, and that was when it was certain that it was gone. The scoreboard now said 5-1.

I don’t think I left a footprint the rest of the way around the bases. People took off to find the ball for me. It still sits at the house where I grew up, along with the other home run ball that I hit a little later during all-star competition (cause hey, the pressure was off then).

Anyway, we ended up losing 18-5 that day. But after I went deep, no one seemed to care that much (especially since we knew our poor last place team was just playing out the string.) And I’d like to think it was also because everyone else in the dugout lived the moment with me.

Which made it even that much better.

Boys and cleaning. Going as you’d expect…

Boys and cleaning, complete with thoughts. Wood floor edition. First experience with Swiffer wet jet this evening:

“Ok there are practically no instructions here. What if this wasn’t the google age? Not going to look anyway; that’s extra effort”

“Does this strip peel off of the pad before attaching? Maybe I should google anyway. Nah.”

“What, this uses batteries? I already took everything out of the box. No batteries and I don’t have any of these. Mother f$%*$% this needs done tonight wtf am I gon…..wait, it says batteries are in here. Um, oh, they’re hidden behind what seemed like the end of the box. Is cleanliness really worth all this?!?”

*Turns on. whirrrr* “Why isn’t this spraying? I clicked in the fluid container the way it says. Just going to stare at it until it works”

*five minutes later, reaching in and adjusting* “Guess I should mess with the fluid again, but no way could it go…..hmmm it did sorta click this way too. Oh there’s the spray”

Once (sorta) finished…..”this didn’t pick up as much as I thought it would. After all that it’s just a glorified mop, and I have to sweep too?” Game set match for today.

A different flavor

No ups and no downs for this entry. Just some insights: some things I’m good at, and some things I’m not. Some things I like, and some things I don’t.

Things I’m good at:

  • writing (so obvious eh) and grammar
  • sports
  • numbers/math/odds
  • understanding people, including self-awareness
  • well thought-out comebacks
  • being rational
  • public speaking (which you’d never guess from my day to day demeanor)

Things I’m not:

  • dancing
  • arts and crafts
  • science
  • lightning quick comebacks
  • deep connections with other people
  • just letting loose without a care in the world
  • keeping a consistently strong work ethic

Things I like:

  • warm weather and the beach
  • 80’s music, 90’s R&B, EDM (especially trip hop), guilty pleasure soft rock
  • sleeping as late as I want
  • the night
  • long phone conversations
  • people who are ok with change and being wrong
  • that extra tasty edge on your prime rib

Things I don’t like:

  • cold weather and the snow
  • country and gospel music
  • drivers who come up quickly in the right lane with nowhere to go
  • extremist political ideals
  • wearing wet socks
  • forgetting where I parked my train of thought
  • the mental torment from loving amusement parks but hating the long lines

How about you?

California dreamin’….

I’ve never really talked here about what life was like during my past successful times. And it’s a bit painful to relive (compared to how things are now). But once I heard the seagulls during the bridge of “The Boys of Summer” a few minutes ago, I couldn’t help but reflect on it.

Another flashback now: this time to 2005. I was ready to make the move that I hoped would define the rest of my life: to a beachfront condo in southern California. I’d always lived in colder climates and never liked them, and I’d loved the beach since I was a little kid. Had just turned 30 and had all of the surface things about life in order: my physical health, my career freedom, the financial fruits of that freedom, and many years in front of me. And it was time to finally reward myself for everything I’d earned. I’d spent the prior year planning on and off for that big move, and everything was finally ready to go.

My flight landed. I got a new car for Cali. The world should have been my oyster.

Two years later, I had left. Not much left but a mess of frustration, new life issues, and confusion about what to do next.

What…..the….hell…..happened, right?

I can blame some of it on the choice to get that nice condo. It made sense in the beginning since that was the kind of thing I’d always wanted, but that meant that most of my neighbors were a good bit older and the complex was way too quiet. I knew very few people in California before I moved, so my social life would have been entirely different if I’d lived somewhere surrounded by 20 and 30 somethings.

But that was just one of the problems. And definitely not the main one (cause let’s face it, if I really wanted to meet new people, I could have put some more effort into it and improved my social life some).

What REALLY happened? Depression still mostly ruled. At my core, I didn’t have it in me to be happy, so I didn’t try to much (even while otherwise living a daily existence that most people would’ve traded anything for). And I still don’t. As anyone who’s read much of my blog knows, that issue hasn’t changed in the 15 years since.

You can imagine how that felt. To have to move on from your life dream, simply because you didn’t have the emotional health to hold on to it. It still stings.

I should clarify that that result wasn’t a huge shock to me; it’s not like I didn’t know my psychological state at the time. And I totally knew that the whole “money can’t buy you happiness” cliche was true, so that wasn’t why I made the move and rewarded myself materially for the first time either. I guess I just hoped that somehow I’d find a way to start enjoying life, especially given such a backdrop for it. Unfortunately that did not happen.

So everyone reading…..if you have these chances for that possible new life that you’ve always wanted (regardless of the details), don’t hesitate to go for it. You’ll always wonder what might’ve been if you don’t.

But if you do take that plunge, be ready deep down to enjoy it. Because even though what ifs really suck, losing your dream is probably even worse.

That killer (lack of) focus

As I sit here at around midnight in the dark, I’ve been thinking about just how damaging one of my issues has been to my past, present, and future: the great difficulty that my depression-burdened mind has in keeping focus sometimes. In all ways, big and small. Daily life to long-term, and everything in between.

There are the minor ways that it happens. Like not remembering to do a certain task or not clearing your mind enough to get some work done. But then, there are the more damaging times. Especially for someone in my work fields who wants to permanently regain his successful edge so much.

One Monday early last summer, the stock market rebounded strongly from a lot of recent selling. As the following Tuesday afternoon unfolded, I should have noticed that an unusually great trading opportunity was now in front of me (as all of my past experience was screaming that things should continue well higher for the rest of the week).

As you might guess, these spots don’t come up often (if they did, it’d be way too easy to make a killing in these shark-filled financial markets). So when they happen, you have to be ready to strike quickly and decisively. But I didn’t think about it until way too late, and thus did nothing about it. There was no excuse for missing it. And yes, the market did just as I expected for those next few days (which was all I needed).

Had I taken advantage of this, it would have been a life-changer. It was one of those rare spots when not only were you dead on, but the timing and current market forces of everything aligned just right to maximize the potential of it. As close as possible to the perfect trade.

But now, all I can do is grit my teeth and hope that a similar opportunity shows up before too long (and that I’m capitalized enough to take advantage if it does). And even then, there’s obviously no guarantee it will work out as well. Or even at all. Even your best trades can only put the odds in your favor; nothing is even close to foolproof. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, and sometimes new news will derail things. So I certainly can’t assume that I can replicate what would’ve happened last June, especially at this stage in life.

Regardless of any of that though, my focus still needs to improve about everything else in life too. From top to bottom. A better diet and more regular routines would help some, but it’s so difficult to find the energy and desire. Making yourself care enough (for lack of a better term) isn’t something that you can just conjure out of thin air.

For the first time, I think I will ask for some input here from my (few) regular readers. Have any of you dealt with these type of conundrums? Did you figure out any legit new habits that helped your mind power through depressive hazes?

Other new middle-aged fun

Flashback to sometime in 2013. A good buddy and a more youthful looking 38 year old me were out somewhere one night. We were talking about how we had maybe 5 to 7 years left to look and feel, well, “young”.

My friends, that time has come.

In the years since that conversation, my skin (while still youthful) has gotten worse. I now have the torso of a guy in his 50s. And it’s already become more difficult to stay in decent condition.

During that interim, I hadn’t even changed my dating/sex life habits much yet. It was still possible to attract a wide age range of the women I’d like to; in a period of a few months, I might hook up with both a 22 year old and a 42 year old. Now, as you can imagine, that has changed. You know it’s inevitable at some point, but it’s still not something you look forward to.

Like this afternoon, for example. I ride down the elevator with the neighbor across the hall. She is in her mid 20s, and both sweet and cute as could be. And I can tell that she doesn’t look at me the same as someone similar might have 5-10 years ago.

And then the best part lately: at my grandmother’s visitation recently, I pull up in the car with my mother and roll down the window. A guy from the funeral home walks up and asks “are you the son?”

Ouch.

Now, mind you, given the youthful facial genes that I’m fortunate to have, he should never have even considered that I could be the son of a 91 year old. Especially since my gray hair is still very modest for 45; it’s going to be awhile before I even reach salt-n-pepper status. But still….for that to even come out of his mouth. Good god.

Sooo to everyone in their 20s and 30s reading this: enjoy it and take advantage. It seems like you’ll be a fairly young adult for a crazy long time, but believe me, it’ll end faster than you think.