I have been on edge lately. Sometimes I get swallowed by these overwhelming negative emotions that seem to be unfathered. It isn't very hard for me to do a 180, but it usually has to be some sort of external force. To almost an unhealthy fashion I really do appreciate the little things. I love stretching my calf muscles. I love memorizing random numbers. I love falsely assuming something is a Freudian slip. I get pretty jealous when my friends do better than me in poker. It is absurdly relative. I can feel happy for them up until they make one dollar more than me. I would have sat 200/400 PLO today, but I was restricted from playing that high. I emailed them to let me play, but they wanted me to fax them ID so I gave up. I think my dog would be an excellent gambler if given the opportunity. For every 7 monkeys I get off my back, 8 more get on. I might be heading in the wrong direction. I used a pumice stone to scrub a stamp from a bar off of the back of my hand and it looked as if I had gotten a third degree burn on my skin when I was finished. I don't think I am a masochist. For every 8 wounds I get, 7 don't leave a scar.