The Other Side of Fear is Passion

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We’re entering a revolution of ideas while producing 

a generation that wants instructions instead.

Doing some reading while I'm off the twitters, and came across this great "manifesto" from Seth Godin. It's long, but totally worth your time. Really. Take a look...I think you'll like it.

As a parent of a kid in public school, it's definitely got me thinking. This kid...she's got two parents who love her a lot and who want her to do well, to be happy, to find her passion and stop at nothing to achieve it.

She's 7. She has piano lessons and a skateboard. A bike and two dogs. She takes an art class and plays basketball. She's got opportunities. But what will she do with them? What can she do with them? How do we help her find and nurture her own passion, to love learning for the sake of learning, to dream her own dreams and to desire and develop her own initiative rather than crave (or settle for) instruction? Especially in a world where easy and settling is the status quo.

This "manifesto" makes you think.

You know how when you're actually excited about something, you're leaning forward in your chair, eager to experience more of whatever it is you're experiencing? You go out of your way to learn more about it because it moves you, captivates you, hits all your cylinders? Godin calls that "forward leaning posture" and he believes it's teachable.

Really? Passion is teachable? What a concept.

He also talks about what he calls The Bing Detour, the Bing search engine created by Microsoft and installed as the homepage on most PCs. Turns out, the number one search term on Bing for 2011 was "Google," and then, once the user got to Google, the next most popular search term was "Facebook."

Instead of bookmarking or using the address bar at the top of the browser (or even just outright changing the home page in their settings), Godin says people:

...don’t look for tips or ways to break or open or fix or improve. They self-describe as Dummies and give up, not for lack of genetic smarts, but for lack of initiative and because of an abundance of fear. They weren’t sold on a forward-leaning posture when it comes to technology, so they make no effort, acting out of fear instead of passion. For the rest of their lives.

Ugh...right?

Right now, Godin implies, people don't care, because the don't have to. The way to save the written word, intellectual discourse, and reason is to train kids to care.

So. How do we do that?

Obedience + Competence ≠ Passion

I love this. 

Remind me I said this when my kid turns 16 (or 12...whatever). 

For now, though. Go read this manifesto!

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A Love Affair

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It's been a long time since I've been consumed by something. I've been captivated by a lot of things in my life - music, work, love, food. All, save love, have waxed and waned, intermittently. But this poker bug...it's something different.

I feel like, particularly this year, I've been working on my game at the same level I tackled law school and with almost the same ethic I used when starting my firm. Indeed, like law school, which is a three-year, $75k+ proposition*, this September will be two years since my first 4-figure score in poker. Thus, my education continues. Poker is that hard and that intense, but infinitely more satisfying. Since I am not yet able to support myself solely from poker, I'm scared to admit that I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing (the "infinitely more satisfying" part, I mean).

What I see when I watch a countdown to the November Nine table, such as I witnessed last night - pretty much pulling an all-nighter, which I've not done since my undergraduate days - are technicians of the highest order. In the law, attorneys who are seen as experts in their field and call their own shots are known as rainmakers. They are technical experts in their subject matter and know how to navigate the minefield that is soul crushing litigation or traverse the obstacle course that is Supreme Court oral argument/brief writing or influence the artifice that is politics. To be a technical expert, you have to be fundamentally sound in the law and in people (either by being able to read souls and manipulate accordingly or by surrounding yourself with people who can help you do that).

Unlike the law, poker is you and you alone. There is no judge that can make a technical ruling that saves your hand from disaster. There is no jury that can latch onto obscure pieces of evidence, disregarding others, to find in your favor. It's just you, and your own skill or lack thereof, face to face across the felt against your opponent(s). And cards be damned. Because if you're playing your cards? Well, good luck and God bless you. You're going to need both.

Like the law, poker is a jealous mistress. To be an expert you have to know it better than the back of your hand and that requires nothing less than absolute immersion. You can't be good at poker with anything less. I think that's why you see so many (and so many of the same) young, single males making final tables. As a result, someone like me - with a family and living in the middle of a barren poker landscape - will almost always be at a disadvantage.

Watching the ESPN coverage (not showing hole cards until showdown and utilizing true poker playing commentators makes for electrifying moments of poker television, thank you!), I understand how hard I have to work. I don't know how it will all turn out for me. But if poker's taught me anything, it is the significance of the sometimes agonizing beauty of living in the moment. Because of the long-term nature of the game, any run good or run bad occurring at any given point in time exists only in my mind. The truth is, there is only the hand you are playing.**

I suppose winning in poker can be likened to a drug because once you taste it, you only want more. I prefer, however, to think of it as a transcendent love affair, with all the exquisite pleasure and pain such passion brings.

My game? Well, I guess you could say I'm in the caboose car on the Cyclone as it tick-tick-ticks its way skyward...there's only one way to go, and that's up.
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* no Mom and Dad, I've not spent anywhere near $75k on my pokers, don't worry
** this is a paraphrase of a concept from Tommy Angelo

Passions

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I lived in Dallas, Texas until the 3rd grade.  On my block on Santa Teresa, I had two best friends, Sarah and James.  I remember James had hair the color of dusty caramel.  It was short but thick and tough like a Brillo pad.

James and I were shirtless every day we could get away with it. We were sinewy and tan and superheroes and shirtless made for easier tree climbing. The trees on Santa Teresa were Goliaths. Certainly they were on par with those growing in the Redwood National Forest.

When I was 8 or 9, I loved my jean jacket and my BB gun.  I remember exploring the pastures near my grandparents' home looking for things to shoot with my beebees.  Watching brittle rust fly from tin cans brought the most satisfaction but fence posts and anything that made that great *ping zing* sound would do. I was the biggest tom-boy growing up. I don't think I even realized I was a girl until I started 6th grade.

Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Being in West Texas, these pastures generally consisted of not much more than caliche and sand paths meandering around humming, groaning pumpjacks, gnarled and weathered mesquite (which is still my favorite tree), and lots and lots of tumbleweed.  West Texans treasure this stuff so much they made a State Park out of it. White Sands in New Mexico always gets the glory but the Monahans Sandhills are an unsung Texas gem.

When I turned sixteen, I got a camera for my birthday.  My whole family came over to celebrate.  "Whole family" for me included both my brothers, Mom and Dad, my Grandparents, Great-Grandparents, Aunt and Uncle and cousins.  That's a lot of family in one little West Texas town (I had other aunts/uncles and cousins in other towns and the family has grown exponentially since then).  I didn't get away with much growing up but I sure tried.

The camera was a very expensive Canon, included all the fancy lenses and film and I even got lessons as part of the package.  I promptly opened my presents, gave some desultory thanks and headed out the door to go to a friend's house.  Spoiled brat. Man, was a I lucky.

As a senior, I got a guitar.  I took a few lessons but mainly I learned the basic chords and taught myself to play the songs I loved most.  For me, music is the most nostalgic form of memory.  I can picture moments in time when certain songs come on.

'Already Gone' by the Eagles is the highway between home and the Guadalupe Mountains, Big Bend, Balmorhea, Garner State Park, Carlsbad Caverns, or Ruidoso.  Windows rolled down, hot wind blowing, I'm in the window ledge of the battered station wagon (or maybe it was the red and black suburban), one brother's in the other and the other's on the floor...probably crying or playing with Hot Wheels.  Or maybe they're on the ledges and I'm on the floor reading a book.  Wind blows my Dad's hair.  He's singing...one hand on the wheel, the other crooked out the open window. 

'Bali Hai' from South Pacific is a kitchenette efficiency hotel in Ruidoso.  How Mom got us to watch it is still a mystery but this was before Nintendo DS and smart phones, Twitter and Facebook.  We loved it.  Plus, she made homemade popcorn with extra gravy (real butter).

'Super Freak' by Rick James is the local Mexican food restaurant.  I've just punched the numbers for the song on the juke box before I remember I'm there with my dad.  And my granddad.  I am mortified as I hear Rick start singing, "she's a very kinky girl...the kind you don't bring home to motha....."  I walk back to the table wishing I could disappear and hoping, praying they're not listening to the words. The line of my dad's mouth as he chews his enchiladas tells me this is not so.  We eat in silence as "I really like to taste her (every time we meet)" reverberates in my ears. 

After college, work in a real job and a real office with a real boss and co-workers was what every self-respecting person I knew was supposed to be passionate about.  And I was for a long while.  I didn't go to law school until after I'd worked in the "real world" for nearly ten years.  So, being older, when I went law school, I treated it like my job.  And it's proved fruitful.  Yet...I assume that the law, like accounting (or anything corporate, really?), can suck the joie de vivre out of pretty much anything after awhile...and if you let it.

A little more than five years ago now, during some time off before my daughter was born, I found a site online where I could play a card game called Poker.  And there were other people there playing, too, not just computer bots.

Poker feels like music to me.  Different hands are different songs, each holding distinct memories of places, times, people.

Today, I play online and live.  I talk about poker, read about it, study it, twitter about it, blog about it, dream about it.  

I wonder if it will last.

PokerStars Responds

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I probably should've put more thought into writing a blog post about the Negreanu controversy.  I've been told to lighten up...that my involvement is unbecoming and beneath me, which I think - but am not sure - is a polite way of saying "shut up because I don't care to hear about this anymore."

I stand by my statement - just as I don't think it's ok for anyone to call another person a "n*****," I don't think it's ok for anyone to call a woman a "c***"  (and I find it wrong and demeaning to women that a radio personality, politician, public figure, or anyone really, can lose their job or be publicly excoriated for the use of a racial epithet but someone can use an equally reprehensible word toward a woman with no consequences).

Then again - I. Am. A. Woman.  As a woman, I think it's wrong.

Do my feelings on the subject make me an emotionally unstable, overly sensitive individual? Does the fact that I chose to vocalize those feelings make me a strident, harpy bitch?

(for some idea how some people might answer those questions, see comments to this blog)

Whatever you may believe, it's my heartfelt belief that my feeling/opinion and my expression of that feeling/opinion merely makes me an individual with a personal standard.  Period.

My all-time favorite poker players are Kathy Liebert,  Maria Mayrinck, Kara Scott, Vanessa Selbst, Victoria Coren and Jena Delk so it's not like I'm trying to promote a Team Danny/Team Annie agenda, although I do wonder if there would be any money in t-shirts with such slogans...hmm...I digress.

No, I am not going to go play at Ultimate Bet.  As much as I am a fan of Joe Sebock, I don't believe they ever adequately addressed the cheating scandal and so I may just end up going back to Bodog or FullTilt...we'll see.

So, go on witcha bad selves and have some fun today. It's Saturday.  Be nice to each other and to all you men, please be especially kind to your wives, mothers, daughters and sisters.  For as much as we get on your nerves, you love us even if you can't admit it (here's a secret - we love you, too).

PokerStars' response to my email is below.  Again, if you feel as I do and/or want to express your opinion to PokerStars - and I hope you will - please just email them at support@pokerstars.com.

Pokerstars' response to my initial email:

From: PokerStars Support
To:
Subject: PokerStars Support - Daniel
Sent: Aug 21, 2010 12:49 AM

Hello ________,

Thank you for your email.

We are glad to hear that you are enjoying the Women's Poker League and value
very much as one of our loyal female poker players.

Daniel and Annie are both passionate about poker, and both aren't afraid to
speak their mind. I think this is a fact people like and appreciate about
both players. When you have two people that are similar in that regard,
there's bound to be friction somewhere along the line.

Although Daniel Negreanu is a Team PokerStarsPro, he is an entity to himself
and as such will always be encouraged to express his views and speak his
mind as he would otherwise do so, PokerStars Pro or not.

I hope you will still enjoy watching both Daniel and Annie play as both are
fantastic poker players and an enrichment, on one way or another, for the
poker world.

Please do not hesitate to contact us if you have any further questions and
thank you for choosing PokerStars.

Regards,

Katja
PokerStars Support Team

And my response:

I get that and appreciate that he is an individual unto himself. But his comment re: Annie Duke, a woman, and calling her a "cunt" is exactly on par with calling an African American person a "n*****," it is completely and utterly unacceptable.

I appreciate your response and would likely be placated if PokerStars were to make public a statement like you provided me.

If that's not going to happen, please let me know because I will cash out and commence playing elsewhere.

Look forward to hearing from you.

And PokerStars' response:

From: PokerStars Support

To: 

Cc:

Date: Saturday, August 21 2010 1:13 AM

Subject: PokerStars Support - Forwarded to Supervisor

Hello __________,

Thank you for your reply.

I have forwarded your email to a Support Supervisor for their review and
response. You will receive a reply as soon as possible.

Your patience is appreciated.

Regards,

Katja
PokerStars Support Team

 That was 12 hours ago.  

Good luck at the tables, peeps.