Meh

Last night I managed to not really cripple myself but tear a chunk out of me anyway, sort of like when you step on a nail, in the Mookie last night.
I was also playing the Dookie and was considering a hand when Full Tilt buzzed me. I had just won a big hand with J-J and had 7,000 chips, which left me in the top 20, maybe even the top 15, I believe. I had played well the whole tournament, stealing, making good contination bets (for once) and getting a couple nice hands.
At the buzz, I clicked on the call button, and found that I had just called off a raise and a re-raise with Q,4os.
Awesome.
The flop brought me a queen and two nines, but TripJax bet large, and while I considered shoving, given that it was TripJax and he had a huge amount of chips and was capable of making a move on both those factors, I still folded because I did not think he would re-raise with nothing. It turns out he told me had me beat but just barely.
In the past such a moronic, stupid mistake would tilt me.
But I didn't even care.
Poker's been like that lately.
As Vegas approaches, I find myself caring less about poker every day, for the first time in at least three years.
The Mookie was the first time I played all week, and I'll skip Riverchasers tonight. As excited as the BBT2 is, my family life and work schedule doesn't allow me to play all the events. In fact, I can only play one a week , and I'm lucky if I make that. That leaves me at a serious disadvantage. So I hope they continue to host these contests, as they are really fucking cool, but I really can't take part in them fully just yet. Maybe in a couple of years.
Occasionally I get in these life funks, and usually I just tell myself to quit being a pussy and shake them, but a few times a year I really can't, and this is one of those times.
There's no reason for it. Work is still good, family life is fine, and after a brief hiatus to get my balls whacked, I'm running strong in time for the Turkey Trot 5K Thanksgiving race.
Ah, maybe that's it. I have post mortem depression.
I do think part of it is the twins have forced me into biorhythms that aren't really me. I would love to stay up until midnight every night and wake up at 7:15 or so, but instead I'm going to bed at 11 p.m., vaguely unsatisfied, and waking up at 6 a.m., sprinkled with wakings at 2 a.m., 3 a.m., etc. It's all catching up to me.
I don't know if poker itself is why I don't want to play or if it's this bluesy feeling I can't shake. I plan on dinking around in a cash game tonight and quitting when I don't want to play anymore, which might be right away. Maybe I need to hit up Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (yes, an old game, but one I've just discovered) and go kill a few innocents.
At least then they can't outdraw my set.


P.S. Congrats go out to Scott for his news on the twins. Welcome to the club. It's not something I would wish on anyone, but it's also been the greatest experience of my life.