So, in light of my idiocy during Field Day, I've decided to enter into the Radio Amateurs of Canada Canada Day DX Contest. (Boy, that sure is a long title.) The goal of this contest is to contact as many participating stations as possible within 24 hours on Canada Day. Considering how much of a patriotic Canadian I am, I figure that this is both a great way to redeem myself for Field Day, and to spread the word of Canada Day throughout the world.

Considering that I'll have the shift knob in the right position this time, I should be able to rack up more contacts than I did on Field Day. I'm confident of this despite the fact that there are fewer participants in this contest than there are during Field Day.

Ironically, Grande Cache will be putting on one of their famous fireworks shows in the evening of Canada Day. Sponsored by local businesses, this fireworks show rivals any Canada Day fireworks show I've seen in Vancouver. That's pretty sad, when you think about it. (Note, however, that it doesn't rival the Celebration of Light, of which I'll miss greatly.)

In other news, I'll be taking a quick trip up to Grande Prairie on Saturday. Wow, a trip into the big city! I'm excited ;)

I've also wanted to do a review of some poker television shows for quite a while. Thanks to the invention of 'hole cams' that let you see the player's hole cards, it's allowed some interesting poker shows to be created. In fact, it's changed poker from an "underground" kind of activity to more of a "spectator sport." This has brought up a whole slew of poker shows; some good, and some bad. Here's some of my completely random reviews.

The World Poker Tour is one of the first poker shows that cropped up. It presents a glamorous, almost over-the-top production that covers various poker tournaments all around the world. This is the show that probably got me interested in poker in the first place, when I downloaded a VCD of their first episode. However, now that I've become a more experienced player, I find the commentary and analysis to be a bit dumbed down. The production seems a little cheesy, and there's really not a whole lot of strategy in these situations. Like most tournaments, it comes down to a lot of luck and not a whole lot of skill, especially when every pot ends up being an "all-in moment." However, the announcers are entertaining at least, especially Mike Sexton. This is likely the only poker show I'd recommend to people who don't play poker. B-

Of course, there's the famous World Series of Poker, which isn't really a television show in its own right, but it is the most popular poker tournament on the planet. The World Series has been airing on television since the early 70's, but it has never received much play until the "poker boom" started thanks to the World Poker Tour. The show takes a bit of a more subdued approach to poker than the World Poker Tour does, but not by much. Unfortunately, I find the announcers to be uninteresting and annoying at times, making corny jokes and flat commentary. But, with that being said, it *is* the World Series, and that's worth something. B

High Stakes Poker is probably the most popular and interesting poker show on television today. Unlike most other poker shows, which cover whole tournaments, High Stakes Poker focuses on a high stakes cash game. That's right, all of the chips on the table in High Stakes Poker represent real cash, and all those bets are for real. The announcers, especially Gabe Kaplan, are humorous and give insightful analysis of the gameplay. Even the table talk among players is casual and interesting, making you feel like the cameras aren't even there. This show is classy and demonstrates some great poker. By far the best poker show on television. A+

The Professional Poker Tour is produced by the same outfit that does the World Poker Tour. However, this tournament is an invite-only "freeroll" tournament. That is to say, there is no entry fee to play. The show is interesting in that you only see professional poker players, and because of this, you don't see a lot of the amateurish play that plagues some of the other shows. This production is much more subdued from the World Poker Tour, and that's a great relief. The announcers are interesting, and while their analysis might not be the best, it's at least informative. The Professional Poker Tour is also unique in that it gives coverage of the entire tournament, as opposed to just the final table. Unfortunately, it looks like the future of the tour may be in jeopardy, which is really too bad. B+

Some shows, like Poker After Dark, have cropped up to fill late-night television slots where infomercials would normally air. This show features a "sit-and-go" tournament with six professional poker players. Each player pays $20,000 to enter, and the last player remaining wins the entire $120,000. Each tournament takes a week to air, with daily shows filling in what happens every step of the way. The formula is good, but NBC really skimped out on the announcer. That is, the single announcer rarely speaks and gives no insight or analysis at all. In fact, whenever he speaks, it's to make corny jokes or unusual jabs at the player's appearance or play. So, instead of getting analysis of the situation while the player is thinking, I get dead air, or someone telling me how he doesn't agree with Phil Hellmuth's dress code. Replacing the announcer is all that needs to happen to make this show shine. C-

Live at the Bike is a unique show that only airs online. You have to pay a monthly fee, which allows you to watch the poker game live as it happens, right from the Bicycle Casino in Los Angeles. This is interesting, because every other poker show on television is post-produced, with commentary thrown in after the fact. The announcers for Live at the Bike give analysis right as the game is happening. To make things better, the game is usually a low-stakes game ($3/$5 No Limit, typically,) giving insight into games that have relevance for the casual poker player. Unfortunately, their best commentator, Bart, left the show and it hasn't aired since. A

The NBC National Heads-Up Poker Championship is unique in that it features a showdown between players in a single elimination format that pits players head-to-head. One of the announcers is "that annoying guy" from Poker After Dark, but at least his partner makes up for it. Not a whole lot of analysis, but at least the match-ups are interesting. Unfortunately, they let some real tools onto the show, including Humberto Brenes. Brad Booth called Brenes "an idiot," and rightfully so. I just about turned the show off, and if it weren't for Shannon Elizabeth, I probably would have ;) C

To wrap up, favourite poker players of mine include Daniel Negreanu, a Canadian from Toronto whose unusual play inspires me. He keeps an interesting journal online, and gives interesting insight into the professional poker playing community. He also has an uncanny ability to read people's hole cards, to the point where it's almost spooky. Vancouver local Brad Booth has also impressed me with his solid play on High Stakes Poker (bluffing Phil Ivey off of pocket kings with 4-2 of clubs,) and on Poker After Dark.

So, to make a long story short, this year's Field Day sucked. As it turns out, it was my own fault.

I received my radio from Burnaby Radio on Friday, which didn't give me much time to set up. However, with the help of Adam and Stephen, we did get a lot accomplished in a short period of time. The Windom antenna (which is over sixty feet long) was successfully put up on the roof, tied between an antenna mast and a post that holds up the building's air conditioning system. We even managed to run the antenna wire through a small, existing hole in the building wall, and down to my operating area. This is no small feat, as I presumed that I'd have to run the wire through the door and leave the door open whenever I was operating. Since the antenna is now permanently installed, it'll let me operate from indoors whenever I like.

I flipped on the radio, after hooking up the antenna tuner and everything, and immediately tuned to WWV. WWV, of course, is a high-powered shortwave station, so it will always come in, but it did sound better than usual. I then tried scanning through a few of the amateur radio bands, but couldn't hear much. So, I decided to mostly leave it until the BC Public Service net aired later that evening. As it turns out, when the BC net started to air, I couldn't hear anything outside of very few answering stations close to me (Prince George, McBride, etc.) I was also disappointed with the antenna match, even with the tuner. It seemed that, no matter what I did, the antenna wouldn't get better than a 2:1 match on any frequency.

The antenna's "match", or "SWR", is a measurement of how much power is being reflected back to the radio from the antenna. The purpose of an antenna is to radiate out into the air all power that it receives from the radio. This is what a perfectly matched (1:1) antenna does. However, in practice, this isn't the case. Most antennas (especially cheaply made antennas) will reflect at least some power back. This is where an antenna tuner comes into play. The tuner will "trick" the radio into thinking the antenna is a perfect match by sending back to the antenna any power reflected. It's not as good as a naturally matched antenna, but at least it makes more efficient use of the power output.

When we installed the antenna along with the wire (which includes having to solder the ends on by hand,) I realized that we didn't test the antenna wire from end to end. That is, to ensure that there was continuity between the center pin on both ends, and the jacket on both ends. If there was a short of any type between these, it might explain why my match was so poor. So, I had to climb up onto the roof by myself, disconnect the antenna, climb down, and test it. I did this, and it tested beautifully. So I climbed back up, reassembled everything, and came back down. This isn't as easy as it sounds.

After playing with the tuner some more, I was finally able to get a 1:1 match on the 160, 80, 40 and 10 meter bands. I managed 1.5:1 on 20 meters, and 2:1 on 15 meters. As it turns out, I just wasn't very familiar with the tuner, and the tuner manual was way off in its setting estimates for each band.

HF conditions are generally poor in the day, but great in the evening. Being so far north and west, the sun doesn't set until 10:30pm local time. This means that HF conditions on the lower bands might not really open up until almost midnight. By the time I had finished all my tinkering, it was past midnight and I was eagerly scanning around for any contacts at all. Imagine my disappointment when all I got was static and a few very weak signals that were impossible to copy. I chalked it up to unusual conditions or a lack of traffic and went to bed.

The next day was field day, the big day. 12:00pm rolled around and I was ready. WWV from Colorado was coming in loud and clear, and I listened to it until the very moment that noon hit. Then, I went off to 20 meters (14mhz range) to go get some contacts.

Two hours later, and I had my first contact. This is extremely poor performance, considering that virtually every amateur radio club and operator in North America was jammed onto 20 meters (practically the only band usable during the day) trying to talk to one another. I could *hear* all of the stations talking to one another, that is, I could tell that there was massive traffic going on. However, I couldn't get a copy on any of them, which is what's necessary to register a successful contact.

10:00pm rolled around, and I was sitting at a whopping eight contacts. That's less than one contact per hour. Consider that when I was working field day in New Westminster, I'd get dozens and dozens of contacts every hour. DWC, who was on IRC from his Field Day location in Vancouver, was demonstrating how they were racking up dozens of contacts on 20 meters. As for me, I scanned back and forth on the dial repeatedly, and it was beginning to get quite monotonous. Field day can be quite exciting so long as you're receiving contacts, but otherwise it can be a real bore.

The sun set, and I switched over to 40 meters. The prevailing theory on IRC was that HF performance this far inland simply wasn't that great during the day. But, the evening should be my "bread and butter," so to speak. Sure enough, the contacts started to roll in. Six contacts in an hour, while not impressive, certainly was a lot better than I was doing before. Then, it began to slow down again, until I was getting one contact every two hours or so. By this time, I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the large amounts of RF noise that was preventing me from hearing the stations I wanted to contact. There are no words to describe how frustrating it is to hear a station calling, but having the RF noise be so loud that there's no way to get a clear copy.

Another tactic during field day is to call CQ yourself. This is better than scanning with the dial back and forth in several ways. One, it allows other people to find you, and two, as people respond, others will tune in and you'll begin to get a "waiting list" of people wanting to call. Some (powerful) stations will have a dozen or more people trying respond to a single CQ.

Well, I called CQ over and over with no response. I went thirty minutes or longer doing nothing but calling CQ and receiving no response. Imagine saying the following sentence over and over again for thirty minutes: "CQ Field Day, CQ Field Day, this is Victor Alpha Six Romeo Romeo X-Ray." Needless to say, unless there's some kind of payoff, it's not very fun.

At around 3:00am, I got frustrated with the whole mess and went to bed. My goal was to stay up for 24 hours, but I didn't see the point of it when I was getting no contacts. My last contact before I went to sleep was at 1:50am, and that's pathetic. Something was obviously flawed about my setup. Either Grande Cache wasn't as great a HF mecca as I thought, there was something wrong with my antenna, the feed line, or perhaps even the radio had some sort of issue (since it was sold to me as second hand.) Maybe conditions were just too poor for me to do any real work. At any rate, I went to sleep.

I woke up at 9:00am this morning and began scanning again. The sun was up, so it was back to 20 meters for me. I made a few odd contacts, but nothing impressive.

Then, I found the error I had made. It turns out that my radio is equipped with the ability to 'shift' the receiving frequency. This is conveniently located as a knob just below the volume knob. Normally, you 'shift' a frequency if the reception sounds a little 'off.' Since HF signals bounce up to the atmosphere and then back to Earth again, things can get a little messed up. The 'shift' knob helps to fix this. The shift setting on my radio was set all the way to the left. This means that anyone transmitting to me would have been off by half a megahertz or more! No wonder I couldn't pull in any signals, because all of them were off frequency.

This, folks, is an amateur mistake. Why I didn't triple-check all of my settings the day before, I have no idea. But, this kind of mistake wasted an entire year's field day for me. Agh!

Sure enough, after fixing it, a scant 30 minutes before field day 2007 was to end, I began raking in the contacts. Oregon, Alaska, British Columbia, Washington. No problem. This is impressive, because most clubs have already begun to disassemble their gear, and most operators are exhausted after working 24 hours straight. So, to rake in 5 contacts at the tail end of field day, during the day, is quite impressive.

Despite my idiocy, I did manage two rather impressive distant contacts: Tennessee and West Virginia, both about 4,000km away from here. Also, I heard stations from New York and Florida several times, but could not count them as contacts due to my "D" station designation. My closest contact was from Rocky Mountain House (400km away,) which was also my only Alberta contact. Next year, I definitely intend to run from some kind of backup power, which will increase my contacts. I was far, far away from my goal of working all 50 states. Had I found my error earlier, I would have likely made my goal. However, I did work 10 states and 3 provinces over 27 total contacts.

States worked: Washington, Idaho, Montana, Oregon, California, Wisconsin, Iowa, Tennessee, West Virginia, Alaska.
Provinces worked: British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan.

List of all stations worked:

1:57pm K7VAN 14.252mhz (Unknown Location, Idaho)
2:53pm KC7KEY 7.214mhz (Maple Valley, Washington)
3:16pm VE7BAR 7.175mhz (Burnaby, British Columbia)
4:34pm WT7B 14.319mhz (Boise, Idaho)
4:57pm AG4V 14.171mhz (Memphis, Tennessee)
8:03pm K8DF 14.215mhz (Clarksburg, West Virginia)
8:52pm N0MA 14.166mhz (Robins, Iowa)
9:40pm KM5VI 7.248mhz (Milwaukee, Wisconsin)
11:12pm VE7PGZ 7.16mhz (Prince George, British Columbia)
11:16pm K7LYY 7.19mhz (Kalispell, Montana)
11:22pm K7BIR 7.234mhz (Eureka, Montana)
11:28pm VE5AA 7.234mhz (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan)
11:37pm VE6DDD 7.234mhz (Rocky Mountain House, Alberta)
11:46pm WB6LRU 7.244mhz (Rowland Heights, California)
12:08am W7BU 7.225mhz (Astoria, Oregon)
12:10am NT7H 7.225mhz (Olympia, Washington)
12:16am W7ECA 7.2175mhz (Great Falls, Montana)
12:35am K7ZC 7.278mhz (Custer, Washington)
1:50am K7VAN 7.24mhz (Unknown Location, Idaho)
10:07am K7YB 14.316mhz (Simms, Montana)
10:12am W2USA 14.33mhz (Tacoma, Washington)
11:09am W7AQ 14.222mhz (Yakima, Washington)
11:30am K7ENO 14.28mhz (Keno, Oregon)
11:31am KL7IG 14.28mhz (Douglas, Alaska)
11:48am VE7SAR 14.2085mhz (Surrey, British Columbia)
11:53am AD7IC 14.199mhz (Portland, Oregon)
11:58am K7ZC 14.199mhz (Custer, Washington)

Field Day is perhaps the biggest day of the year for amateur radio operators. Amateur radio operators all around the world dig out their radio gear in what is essentially a global test of emergency preparedness. Field Day lasts for 24 hours from Noon this Saturday until Noon on Sunday. In that 24 hour period, amateur radio operators around the world compete to see who can get the most contacts with other participating stations.

The last time I operated a Field Day station was a few years ago in New Westminster under the callsign VE7RBY. I managed to make contacts with 25 out of the 50 United States in the span of a couple of hours. Ever since then, I've wanted to use my own callsign to participate in Field Day. Fortunately, now I have the chance.

Bill from Burnaby Radio has sent up a nice, virtually brand new ICOM 706mkIIg HF radio. This thing is a beautiful piece of equipment. It operates on all bands from 160 meters (known as the "AM Band" in lay terms), all the way up to 450mhz (the frequencies that those prolific FRS radios use.) It supports all modes: FM, AM, LSB, USB, and CW. The power output is a nice, juicy 100 watts in SSB mode.

Bill is also throwing in some cable, a beautiful MFJ-949E antenna tuner, and a 67 foot long Windom 40 antenna. He assures me that it should perform beautifully in the unique conditions of Grande Cache. The antenna will be going up on the roof of this building, elevated between two masts.

I can't stress enough how helpful Bill has been for the past couple of months. He readily took in my salvo of Motorola Maxtrac radios in return for a store credit, and has been exceptionally accommodating throughout this entire process. Seriously, if you need anything involving radios, Bill over at Burnaby Radio is your man.

The conditions for amateur radio in Grande Cache couldn't be better, really. Since the town is so new (founded in 1969), all electrical cable is buried under ground. This eliminates the #1 problem I had doing amateur radio work out of my apartment in Vancouver: interference from overhead power lines. Grande Cache is over 100km away from the nearest settlement, further reducing any RF interference. Lastly, the town is built up on a plateau of a mountain, giving an altitude boost that most other transmitters (i.e. those working Field Day in Florida, for example) don't have. I'm quite excited to have my first HF QSO here.

The only thing that might stand in the way is the fact that we're in the middle of thunderstorm season right now. Every forecast for the past two weeks or so has predicted periods of rain or thunder. Obviously, I can't operate a radio with the risk of lightning involved, so I'll have to shut down until the storm passes. Fortunately for me, there's an old saying that says, "If you don't like the weather in Alberta, just wait a minute!"

My primary goal this year is to work all 50 of the United States. Secondary goals include staying up for the full 24 hours straight, working all ten provinces plus the territories, and lastly, working all 80 ARRL "zones." Some areas are so populated (California, for example), that they get their state broken up into separate sections: Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego, etc. In contrast, the Canadian territories are so sparsely populated that they're all lumped into one zone ("NWT.") While I'm content to just get one contact per state or province, working all of the zones would be a sweet bonus.

As I said before, Field Day is a test of emergency preparedness. Most amateur radio clubs haul their gear to a remote location and set up shop with a generator to simulate a situation wherein grid power is unavailable. Other clubs set up shop in their local Emergency Operations Center. Some lone amateur radio operators hike it up to the top of a mountain and set up a tiny 5 watt radio with batteries recharged from solar power.

Depending on your setup, you get bonus points. For example, an operator working by himself, in low power mode, with solar charged batteries will get a huge bonus over someone working out of their house off of grid power at 100 watts. Unfortunately, I fit in the lowest possible category: no bonuses, and severe restrictions. For example, I can't count anyone else working off of grid power (like myself) as a contact.

However, my setup is not an unreasonable scenario in an emergency situation. Grande Cache has its own coal-fired power plant a couple of kilometers out of town, so it's likely that the plant would continue to provide power to the town even in the absence of other power plants on the grid. The town has virtually zero risk from earthquakes, no risk from flooding (being up on a plateau,) and receives no bad weather outside of the odd severe thunderstorm. The town's isolated, self-sufficient nature makes it an excellent candidate to serve as a radio "waypoint" in a worldwide catastrophe; I should be able to relay messages from one station to another with relative ease.

Next year, however, I'll aim to be off the grid in one form or another during Field Day. But for now, I'm more than content to break in my new HF radio in this fashion :)

I will be reprogramming RoadRunner, my IRC bot, to log all of my contacts as they come in. This means you'll be able to watch which contacts I'm receiving, and from where, in realtime. RoadRunner will also keep track of how many states I have left to go to reach my primary goal. Trying to stay awake for the full 24 hours this Saturday will be tough, so if you want to stop in at #rrx on irc.rrx.ca, please do so! I'll be able to chat between contacts, and will also have my usual armada of IM protocols open.

If you want to listen for me on HF radio, I'll be VA6RRX, 1DAB. I'll likely be in SSB mode for the entire 24 hour duration. Your best bet for reaching me will be 7.05mhz-7.30mhz, 14.10mhz-14.35mhz, or 28.20mhz-29.70mhz depending on conditions. Wish me luck!

"Sofia Rubenstein, 17, got in trouble the way a lot of teens do these days. [...] Her incessant text-messaging racked up a huge phone bill on the family's wireless plan. [...] Last month the Washington high school junior used 6,807 text messages, which, at a rate of 15 cents apiece for most of them, pushed the family's Verizon Wireless bill to more than $1,100 for the month. [...] Sofia will be working in her parents' retail store this summer to pay off her debt."

This reminds me of a certain situation that occurred right here in Grande Cache somewhere between ten to fifteen years ago. I was just a kid, certainly younger than Sofia's age, but a kid never the less. Instead of being out with some of the other kids doing what they did best: smoking, getting drunk, or hitting the drugs, I was sitting on my computer in the basement racking up long distance charges by calling BBS's all over the United States. Software Creations in Massachusetts was an all-time favourite of mine. Software Creations was actually my first experience with the Internet, by way of USENET. You can still find some of my (admittedly lame) posts on rec.games.video.nintendo talking about (the then just released) Final Fantasy III.

The problem with this is that I would rack up rather large phone bills. Of course, being a kid, I really didn't appreciate how tough it was to come up with an extra $500 to $1,000 out of nowhere for that month. At least in Sofia's case, her parents decided that the best way to teach this virtue was to have her work off her debt. In my case, my father came up with the novel idea of seizing all of my equipment as collateral against my debt. There's no problem with that. I didn't like it very much, being a kid and all, but it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is what he did next: he sold it all at fire sale prices. That's fine, I guess, if you're going to recover money for the debt and call it even. But selling at fire sale prices doesn't really do much to pay down the debt, now does it? At least give me an accounting-style breakdown or something to introduce me to the wide world of how real life "adult" finance works. You know, educate me about how tough it really is to pay this stuff down, and maybe I'll understand the consequences. But this "scorched earth" policy my father followed was very bizarre. In fact, it just inflamed the situation. Maybe he was simply angry. But, one should never harbour anger towards their children; they should educate, encourage, lead them on the right path, take an interest in their hobbies, that sort of thing.

The worst part about the whole ordeal is that most of it can be forgiven. At the end of the day, I'm typing this on a Pentium 4 3.0ghz machine with 2GB RAM. I own a nice IBM 1.6ghz Centrino laptop with 2GB RAM. My BBS runs next to me on a dual Xeon 2.6ghz server with 3GB RAM and 6 hard disks in 3 RAID-1 arrays. So, really, who gives a shit about having my old 386/16mhz machine taken away from me? I'm doing quite well now, so what does it matter?

It all comes down to the floppy disks. At the time, floppies were the premiere way for any computer user to store their data. Just as a poet has a notebook, an artist a sketchbook, a musician his musical scores, a computer user has his data. In fact, when you look at the amount of money spent on phone bills, most of it was turned into data. All of that money my parents spent wasn't simply on two computer modems shouting tones at one another, it was spent on downloading hard data to my computer, and then storing it onto floppy. Those floppy disks were the cumulation of all of that money spent, plus more.

My father took those floppy disks, and sold them at fire sale prices to Steve Bott. At the time, I considered Steve to be one of my closest friends. Steve then took the disks, erased them all, and began selling them for a 400% profit. Now, this isn't exactly my father's fault. There really was no way for him to realize that one of my closest friends was an asshole. I thought Steve Bott would say something along the lines of "I got these disks from your father, so I'm not going to erase them, but if you somehow find the cash to pay for them, then at least you can get your data back." But, my father did have the effect of turning one of my best friends against me. When you're a young teenager, that's a tough blow to take.

Taking things into my own hands, I stole a 14.4 HST USR modem from my father and sold it for $60. Using that $60, Stephen Joseph and I bought as many of the 'fire sale' disks we could and brought them back for analysis. I sent a proxy in to buy the disks, to whom Steve Bott said coyly, "The data's gone. There's no way you can get it back." Stephen then coded what is basically a dirty version of 'dd' in QuickBasic. It would take the raw disk image and dump it to the hard drive. Then, using PKZIPFIX, it reconstructed entire ZIP files of the disk contents, provided that the data on the disk was zipped to begin with.

I did end up getting a lot of data back, however, a lot of it was also lost. Anything not in a ZIP file, such as the multi-hundred page Final Fantasy III FAQ I was working on, was gone. Anything on any disk bought by a random customer into Steve Bott's computer store was gone. Some of these things can't be replaced. Various notes, custom made programs, BBS data, text files... all gone.

Even now, I'm still looking for certain things that were lost in that incident. There was an ASCII/ANSI-based game similar to ZZT called "Insanity." It was made by a company based out of Scotland, or at least somewhere in the United Kingdom. It was shareware, but also had a full version available. To this day, despite a cumulation of hours scouring the Internet for this game, it's nowhere to be found.

So, what did this all accomplish? What lessons did my father teach to my teenage self? He first made me angry, then resentful. He left me confused and under the impression that my aspirations were worthless. He didn't explain the consequence of my actions, nor did he try to demonstrate them. Then, he engaged in a virtual book burning by committing my disks to the void and destroying years of work. As icing on the cake, he then turned a friend against me.

Of course, it's all water under the bridge now. I now work for the very friend that created the "dirty dd" in QuickBasic. Steve Bott's wife committed adultery, so maybe he got what he deserved. Despite the roadblocks my father put up in my "quest" with computers, I'm doing just fine. But, having lived in this town for nearly a month now, some interesting things keep creeping up. I meet new and interesting people every day, people who don't really know who I am, but who knew who my father was. Most of the things they have to say about him aren't so nice. He made things more difficult for people here, or he screwed up this or that, or he made this person angry. It's no wonder he fled to the United States, considering he pissed off everyone here, including his own son. In contrast, the things people say about my mother are among the kindest I've heard.

So here I am, once again, cleaning up the ugly mess my father left behind. I'm righting his wrongs and moving things forward. I'm here to live up to my responsibilities as a man: I'm paying off debts, I'm getting along in my life. It's just a shame that I had to learn about my responsibilities on my own, instead of from my own father.

I just got off the radio with VE6SZS, one of eight (including myself) licensed amateur radio operators in town. Scott was born and raised right here in Grande Cache, and has lived here all his life. So, we shot the shit for a while, being one who grew up here myself. Talked about the changes in town, things like that. A year or so ago, I could've rented a whole condo for $300 per month! Hah! Now that the oil industry has moved in, things are different. It turns out that the change with Vegas Pizza came about when the owners of the business handed it down to their son. The son, being younger, decided that changing it into a bar would be a good idea.

It turns out that the broken repeater is in Scott's basement and had undergone repairs over the winter. He plans to re-install it up on Grande Mountain as soon as the road opens up there. The mountain tops here are still heavily caked with snow, so the trek up there must not be easy. We also discussed field day a bit, my need to get a HF rig, and how HF conditions here are so beautiful that they allow for some amazing contacts. Alaska, Texas, Mexico... all coming in as if they were next door. Definitely need to get myself a HF rig.

Work is going great, better than I expected. It's a refreshing change of pace to work with people who all work together. I had completely forgotten what that feels like. We're just working away like a finely-tuned machine to get everything done. It's great to not have to constantly be on the defensive, or on the offensive. To not have to justify, fight, or explain. We just *work*, and it feels great.

First day of my new job today. Got some keys cut, picked up some cheques for the business, took care of my post office box, and picked up a new jean jacket. It's funny, jean jackets are near impossible to find in BC, but, in Alberta they're everywhere. I found one that was okay at one store, but had some weird/lame logo on it that I didn't care for. But one in the mall captured my heart. As a bonus, it has some nice padding to help break the cold a little.

So I went back to the store and showed the guys. I asked, "So, how does it look?" They responded, "It looks like the same one you left with ten years ago, man." Alas.

The sting of being away from Vancouver isn't as pronounced as it was yesterday, but it's still there. I'll miss the city, but I've got work to do.

Speaking of work, we picked up some shelving to make up for the lack of furnishings in the store. A good portion of the day was spent getting that all up and moving stock around. It's beginning to look like an actual store in here now, which is great. Some more tables are coming in tomorrow, which will increase our workbench area.

I've decided to install an Asterisk machine for managing the phone line here. I've gotta figure out a way to interface it with Skype somehow, but I'll get it done. Big Brother, a simple piece of monitoring software that I haven't dealt with since the Mountain Internet days, will go on the same machine and monitor various services. Some of the stuff we serve is mission critical, so Big Brother will be able to tell Asterisk to call out and inform one of us of a downed service or link.

The work here is nice and challenging, but everyone's on the same page. It's clear that our skills mesh in a smooth way that I've never experienced before. Granted, it's only the first day, but everyone's pretty excited about how things are coming along.

This town is completely spooky in its own way. On one hand, virtually nothing has changed. Everything is exactly where I remember it, and it is rare to see any major changes outside of a new paint job on the outside of a house. Vegas Pizza, the crappy mall, Super A Foods, everything is exactly as it was. But while the town's outward appearance is the same, the inside of it has changed dramatically.

Grande Cache used to be a small tightly-knit community of families. Now, it is overrun with oil contractors. They (and their trucks) are simply *everywhere*. Everywhere you look, it's oil, oil, oil. The industrial section of town appears to be expanding faster than the residential. Housing prices are going up, and finding a place to rent is becoming an exercise in frustration.

My mother and I went to Vegas Pizza to grab a bite to eat last night. Vegas Pizza was always the sort of melting pot of gossip in the town: one of the only restaurants to stay open late, possibly with the best food in town. Well, they converted Vegas Pizza into a bar! It's now "Vegas Bar and Grill" and is filled to the rim with oil workers drinking beer and watching hockey. This is how Grande Cache has changed. It's no longer a little town in the traditional sense; it's a frontier town.

The air here is nice and crisp, the humidity practically non-existent. The weather changes every five minutes thanks to our sub-alpine location atop a plateau. This morning brought snow, and now it's clear. The astronomy conditions here are wonderful, and I can only imagine what it looks like outside of town when the moon is gone. Likewise, the amateur radio conditions here are pristine, perhaps too pristine. The sole repeater in town doesn't even seem to be functioning, so I'll have to contact the Yellowhead Amateur Radio Club 150km away and see what the deal is.

I programmed in a handful of local frequencies into my scanner. Police, fire, the airport, and some others. Other than a call from a 13-year-old girl receiving harassing phone calls from her father (!), the air waves are dead. I settled in for a long nap (five hours), and the scanner didn't go off even once. Grande Cache has no FM radio stations, the only station here is "YR Radio", an AM station based out of Hinton.

The white pages for this town are only five pages long. The "S" entries span only two or three columns, compared to the last name "Chan" in the Vancouver book which easily spans several dozen pages. There are no traffic lights here, and traffic on the highway is rare. Electricity is expensive, but gas is cheap. The electricity here comes from coal, which results in some interesting power spikes and brownouts. My UPS goes off every dozen minutes or so.

Being here is still sort of surreal. I'm still digesting the huge amount of culture shock that I'm going through right now. I didn't kid myself when I left Vancouver, I knew it would be a very drastic change in lifestyle. To come from a condo in the heart of a thriving metropolis to the middle of nowhere is about as drastic as you can get.

I start my new job tomorrow, and it looks like it's going to be a challenge. My job description is to do everything I was doing at my store in Burnaby. I'm effectively the General Manager here, so all the accounting, receivables, payables, customer service, advertising, budget.. all of that stuff will be my responsibility. Except the resonsibility here is actually *greater* than what it was at my store, since we have contracts with some very big outfits. Contracts with the Town, with the mill, various oil and trucking outfits.

It was hard to see my mom go. She left in the morning and drove back to Vancouver the entire way in one day, all twelve hours of it. In a way, it was hard because that represented my last "out." Up until she left, had I really wished it, I could've just changed my mind. I could've packed everything up and gone back to Vancouver to work some shitty 'barely scrape by' job. She represented the last of everything I've left behind in Vancouver, and like the final notes in a great symphony, it came to an end.

But that's not how I do it. I don't quit, I don't give up, and I don't run. Some people think my move to Grande Cache was a run, a way to bolt from life's problems. But I disagree. This is how I will progress. This is how I will grow, how I become stronger, and eventually live a fulfilling life.

I could have taken the lazy route. I could have had a crappy job in Vancouver. I could've stayed right where I was. But I'm not lazy. I feel the drive, the burn, the desire to progress and do something meaningful. I crave challenges and complex problems. I enjoy any opportunity to analyze a situation. And you can't very well analyze a situation behind the counter at Starbucks, now can you?

So, after clearing rush-hour traffic in Vancouver, my trip to Alberta was underway. It was raining buckets, but we stopped in at Chilliwack for a quick bite to eat at White Spot Triple O's. Then, it was onwards to tackle the Coquihalla Highway.

The rain only got worse as we proceeded on. Then, out of nowhere, *WHAM*, the windshield was blinded by a torrent of water flying up from a huge puddle right in front of us. Then there was another *WHAM* as the metal shelves from my server rack flew forward into the front seat, and the car began to hydroplane.

The 'puddle' had to be a couple of feet deep, right in the middle of the freeway. As we emerged from it, we saw half a dozen cars and motorhomes parked off to the side with their four-way flashers on. Noticing no damage, we continued on.

I paid the ten dollar toll at the top, amazed at the amount of snow still accumulated up on the summit. We began to descend into the Merritt side of the Coquihalla, when the car began to shimmy back and forth a little, almost like someone who had a few drinks would if they were behind the wheel. As time went on, the shimmying got worse, and then it was accompanied by a nasty noise.

Feeling that this was not good news, we pulled over and checked out the car. Flat tire. Unfortunately, in an effort to maximize space for all of my stuff, we also removed the jack and other equipment necessary to fit the spare. No problem, time to call a tow truck in Merritt so that someone can come out and exchange the spare. No service.

So, here we were in the middle of nowhere without any cellular service, a flat tire without any way to change it, in the pouring rain.

Fortunately, I had just charged my Kenwood radio and had it in my overnight backpack. I wanted to make a list of repeater frequencies before I left, but I never had the time to do it. This left me with no choice but to scroll through the list of greater Vancouver repeaters in the hope that one of them shared a frequency with a repeater in Merritt.

After scrolling through most of the list, I finally had a hit, and began calling out for any station available. VE7DIR from Vernon responded, but had trouble hearing my transmissions. Vernon is over 100km from our current location. Another ham in the Merritt area (whose callsign I unfortunately forgot) was in the middle of a forest and served as a relay since he could hear my transmissions clearly.

VE7DIR then called a tow truck who promptly arrived and switched out the tire. Thank god for amateur radio. Granted, we could have flagged someone down who may or may not have been able to help. But, there is something to be said for calling for help and having someone over 100km away assist.

Needless to say, it's going to be a nice night's sleep tonight here in Merritt! I'm leeching Internet from somewhere despite the fact that the hotel claims they had no wireless Internet service. It's slow as all hell (I'm getting pings back from Google in the 1000ms range), but enough to make this journal post.

Once again, a big thanks to all of my friends who have been supportive and helpful through this whole process. By this time tomorrow, I should be settled in at Grande Cache!

Until then, adios. :)

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." -- Martin Luther King Jr.

Unfortunately, this week, I was forced to close the store. As you all know, I was exceptionally proud of the store, but there is a point you reach where it's best to stop before a bad situation gets worse. The store was running a deficit for the past three months. That's not a very long time in financial terms -- whole businesses and countries run deficits for dozens of years or longer. I could have kept going, I could have borrowed more money to keep the store floating, but that would only be digging a deeper hole for myself.

Where did I go wrong? I've asked myself this question numerous times over the past month. I've come to the conclusion that it's no coincidence that store income started to drop shortly after my hardware supply ran out. I tried to make up for this in December, by focusing more on customer service and broadening my service base. I began a 'quota' system, largely based on my experience being a bill collector, wherein the store had a quota of 110 billable hours per month.

January saw a total of only 22 billable hours, easily the worst month in store history. February wasn't any better, at 30 billable hours. March, my last month in the store, finished off with a relatively decent 55 hours. Never the less, these figures are all well below the quota. The quota, had it been met, was designed to ensure that all the store creditors would get paid, along with my personal creditors.

Clearly, the quota system didn't work. There just wasn't enough people coming in for service. Nothing short of some expensive marketing campaign would have drove customers in. Computer service customers paid the store bills, but these service customers would never turn the store a profit. The store was at least scraping by in the months since I bought it, so what was the difference?

The answer is in the hardware. My mistake was not keeping a good selection of hardware available for customers to buy. I relied on one source for hardware, and that was a mistake. Everyone knows that you shouldn't keep all your eggs in one basket, and here I did exactly that. There's no shortage of cheap computer equipment out there, I just didn't go out and get it. You'd think I was busy running the store or something.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear. It is no coincidence that the store began to run a deficit right when the hardware supply ran out. That's empirical evidence. It is incontrovertible. Does that mean the store's failure is someone else's fault? No, it's my fault because I didn't diversify my hardware supply. By the time I realized that, it was far too late. Why I didn't realize it until the situation proceeded past the point of no return, I really don't know. I knew that hardware would be key when I bought the store, so why I didn't listen to myself, I don't know.

"A man honours his debts." -- Johnny Soprano

Daniel Negreanu recently posted an entry to his personal journal about an interesting debt situation. He wasn't a party to the situation, but, it's an interesting 'case study', if you will. Without going into a lot of detail, professional poker players love to bet on things. It doesn't matter if it's poker, golf, a hockey game, a game of billiards, who's going to be the next President of the United States.. it doesn't matter. But, one thing understood among all professional poker players is that you honour your debts. There is no excuse for doing otherwise.

In this particular situation, one party agreed to a bet with another. The bet was $300,000. As it turns out, after the bet became due, the losing party claimed that the debt "wasn't fair" and refused to pay it. He claimed that the situation under the bet was unfair and because of that, the debt should be declared void. Of course, this is absurd. If you agree to a debt, then it's your responsibility to pay it. It's that simple.

Between two men, there is never an excuse for not paying a debt.

Unfortunately, the store situation was making it quite difficult for me to live up to my debt-paying responsibilities. People weren't getting paid, companies weren't getting paid, and I sure as heck wasn't getting paid. When you're aboard a sinking ship, it's rather difficult to make deliveries to port, don't you think?

Hence, it made my decision to close the store even easier. I could leave the store and obtain a regular full-time job just like everyone else. Someone of my caliber should easily be making $1,500 or more per paycheque. This would ensure that I could live up to my responsibilities far more quickly than trying to right a sinking business.

Deciding to close the store had nothing to do with running from my debts. It had everything to do with meeting the reality of them head-on.

~Don't be afraid to be weak
Don't be too proud to be strong~

I'll be 27 years old in less than a week. At this age, I am thoroughly finished with all the low-paying 'emergency' jobs like RMH and NCO. You won't find me pouring coffee at Starbucks, no sir. In order to meet all of my responsibilities, and to further myself, I simply won't accept a job for ten bucks an hour. For someone of my skill and experience, there's simply no excuse.

I'm working on a few leads for jobs, and one in particular looks pretty good. Peer1 Networks is where I originally applied for a job back in 2000, when the whole Michael Savage debacle was going down. Back then, I didn't make the cut. But now, with added experience and some help from the inside, my odds are looking great.

In the worst case scenario, I have a job waiting for me in Alberta. It's guaranteed. I'd be working with an old friend of mine in his own computer business, and hopefully I can take the lessons I've learned here to better his business. In a way, returning to Alberta should have a great calming effect. I'll be able to focus and concentrate on the things that matter. I used to have clarity of thought and purpose, but with things having become complicated lately, my thoughts have become muddy. Plans have become difficult to execute.

Either way you look at it, having a stable job with a stable income will make by debts easier to pay. Heck, after slaving away at the store day after day, regular full-time shifts will be a piece of cake. 12 hour shifts? Four days off in a row? Paid lunch and coffee breaks? Paid vacation time? Bring it on.

It's interesting to note how personalities change when things get complicated. I came to an epiphany that should have been very obvious; a true friend supports you regardless of your course of action. They don't become violent, they don't threaten, and they sure as hell don't make the situation worse than it is. I'm grateful that I have a great group of friends who have been more than helpful in this situation.

I want to thank each and every one of you. Everyone who has been supportive, offered assistance, advice, and went out of their way to make this very difficult situation easier for me to get through. Thank you very much.

~Don't care what people say
Follow just your own way
Follow just your own way
Don't give up, don't give up~

I am continuing to do what I do best. Despite everything that's happened, I am forging ahead with my grand plan. The plan is dynamic and changes depending on the situation, but I always have a plan. After all, it was Eisenhower who said that "plans are useless, but planning is indispensable." What use is a plan unless it is dynamic?

I'm absolutely confident that I will achieve my goals, despite the change in my situation. I gave a good friend of mine 5:1 odds that someone else wouldn't accomplish theirs. A bet in bad taste? Perhaps. But I'm proud of one thing: if I lose the bet, he's confident of the fact that I'll pay the debt in full, like a man.

So, I was playing $1/$2 no limit, my first real crack at a live cash game. Most of my cash game experience up until that point was limited to low-stakes games online ($0.01/$0.02 no limit), or small home cash games ($0.10/$0.20 no limit.) But, I decided to budget myself $100 for the no limit game at Edgewater and give it a try. Trust me, considering how much of a hard ass I am with money, $100 is high stakes compared to what I usually play with. Just for comparison, I've had about $100 total on deposit with UltimateBet for the better part of a year, now.

I sat down shortly after noon with a bunch of guys and had a great time. Granted, one doesn't exactly sit down at a table vying to win everyone's cash and expect to have fun, but it was my day off and I enjoy a great game of poker, so what the hell. But these guys knew how to have fun, telling jokes and friendly verbal jabs. It was sort of like how they do it on High Stakes Poker, but for far cheaper stakes. After about three hours of play, my $100 had turned into a healthy $240.

But then two jokers decided to sit down at the table. One guy, apparently, plays quite frequently at the $3/$5 no limit table, so everyone was wondering why he came to visit us plebs. He sure liked to talk a lot, though. For someone like me, out of his element, it's wise to just shut up and listen. Taking in all the information being given to you is simply invaluable. Like a nuclear attack sub sitting quietly in waiting, doing silent reconnaissance, I just take it all in as information to analyze later.

"It's better to stay silent and look a fool, rather than speak and remove all doubt." -- Mark Twain.

One hand in particular involved me getting good pot odds towards my flush draw. I had a middle pair or somesuch, so I was still able to defend my hand to some degree. When the river came, I didn't hit my flush, and loudmouth priced me out of calling with my lowly middle pair, so I folded. Later, trying to get a rise out of me, he would say things like, "Oh, if he hit his flush, I had him dominated." The question is, if he had me dominated, then why did he price me out of the hand? I suppose he figured I had hit my flush somehow and that I was going to pay him off. Either that, or he was on a stone cold bluff. My instincts were leaning towards the bluff, and his strutting after the fact about how he had me "dominated" only verified that.

Let's look at it another way. Everyone at that table knew I was playing super tight. They all knew that my $100 stack was a lot of gambling money in my eyes (unlike everyone else reaching into their pockets to rebuy for $200 every hour.) I think loudmouth was also on a flush draw, but missed. After he missed, he knew that if he bet high enough, it would force me out of the hand. This is where financial status plays a big role in No Limit Texas Hold'em: the $50 bet he made to price me out of a hand was nothing to him. Whatever profession he was involved in clearly paid well enough that $50 was like toilet paper to him. He knew that I was playing conservatively enough to fold with anything less than a straight. Most people would simply call this "bluffing", but it's important to debate semantics for a moment.

One final point. If he knew that I was playing super tight, why not place a small value bet at the end so that I would call even with a marginal hand? If he had me dominated that badly, and he knew the odds of me calling for a significant portion of my stack were quite low, then why not make a small bet and extract more money out of me? When you consider the 'meaninglessness' of the cash to him, a $15 bet is not financially different than a $50 bet. This is doubly true when you consider the odds of me calling $15 (to make it $30 total, which is the better part of $50) is far higher than calling $50. Anyone who feels like having a friendly debate with me about this particular hand, feel free to get ahold of me, and we'll talk.

Besides, I was still up over 200%, so I was more than content to fold the hand and go on to the next one.

Unfortunately, I let his saber-rattling get to me a little, and I think that this next hand proves that.

Another gentleman who sat down next to me was waiting for a $20/$40 limit game to open up. He kept going on about how he really hated no limit, which sparked a very "emacs vs. vi" sounding debate among all the players. I mean, could you imagine someone walking in on a Linux meeting and exclaiming, "damn, Linux sucks. Windows forever! Forever!!"? You get the idea ;) This guy was loaded. He was getting $1,000 in cash ready for when a position opened up at the $20/$40 table. Talk about feeling like someone out of his element!

I got dealt 6-5 suited in the small blind. I take a page from Daniel Negreanu's book about loving to play these hands. In the right sorts of situations, you can see flops cheaply, and possibly win some big pots if you hit the flop. Thousand Dollar Man to my right, in the typical steal position, raised it up to $20. I called, everyone else folded, and Loudmouth called.

The flop came 6-6-2 rainbow. I was first to act and checked, hoping to trap someone into paying me off with my three of a kind. Loudmouth then immediately went all in for well over $300. To my right, Thousand Dollar Man also went all in for over $400. Not taking the time to think straight, I immediately called. Thousand Dollar Man then flipped over his cards and proudly said, "I've got a full house." I couldn't believe it, but had I took the time to think about the hand a little more, it would've made more sense. The turn came a queen, and the river was a seven. Any of the three remaining 5's in the deck would've won it for me.

Who raises to $20 with 6-2 off-suit, one of the worst starting hands in poker? Well, I can't exactly blame the guy for doing that. After all, I was playing tight, and he saw my blind as easy pickings. I could've easily put an end to it by raising it to $40 before the flop, but that's a tall order for someone with a lowly suited connector. Considering that $20/$40 Limit is his regular game, going in for $20 is like limping in cheaply to him. After flopping the nuts, there's not a soul in the Universe that can blame him for his play after that.

My primary mistake was in not sitting to think carefully about the hand. From what I saw, there was still one more 6 left in the deck, and any of my two opponents could've had it. My kicker, a five, made my hand look even worse. Anyone coming in with Ace-6 suited, for example (which, in steal position is a very respectable hand), would have me beat. Pocket 2's would've had me beat, which is also a raise-worthy hand on the button. Heck, had I thought about it for much longer, I would've realized that a real junk hand like 6-2 off-suit would've had me beat.

On the other hand, it was also likely that any or both of my opponents had a high pocket pair and were simply defending them against something silly. I was also getting some damn good odds to call (had I won the hand, I would have been up to $720, and it's guaranteed that I would've left the casino at that point.) Calling $240 to win $720 with three of a kind makes 3:1 odds on my money.

Everyone I've talked to about this hand seems to be split on what they'd do. Half (including Tom Grassick, the WPPT points leader) say that they would've also made the call. The other half say that it was dumb to go in with such a weak kicker. I think, in the end, it was very tough for anyone to call or fold. Either way, I was put in a tough situation, and it seems that there was no 'right' or 'wrong' answer to playing the hand 'correctly.'

However, this hand taught me a few invaluable things about how to improve my game:

* I need to play more loosely in a cash game. Yes, it may be for real money, but the tight image simply works against me in the long run. In particular, people feel that they can steal from me with garbage hands. A poker player's worst enemy is someone coming into a hand with garbage and then flopping something amazing. Garbage hands turned gold are extremely difficult to detect (as in the case of Thousand Dollar Man's 6-2 off-suit.)

* Time must be taken to think of every major play before committing to it. Nobody's going to call the clock or think me as violating poker etiquette for taking a minute or two to contemplate an action after two players go all in. Had I thought about the hand for 60 seconds or more, I would've lost all notion of trying to trap people into my three of a kind. Someone going all in after a check isn't falling into a trap, it's called a big red flag. Besides, had I folded, I would've still been up over 200%.

* Leaving the table after being up over 200% and feeling a little irritated from someone needling you all afternoon is perfectly acceptable. It is possible that the needling affected my ability to play and made me feel the need to show that I could play a real hand.

Oh, did I neglect to tell you what Loudmouth had? He had the Ace and Jack of spades, which was worth absolutely nothing in this hand. I went in for over $200 with a real hand that could've won, but lost. Loudmouth lost over $300 with absolutely nothing. At least now I know for sure that he was always full of shit.

I just wanted to write and make a note that today, I passed Tom Grassick for points in the World Pub Poker Tour. As of now, I sit in first place in the rankings. *bows* Now, let's see if I can finish the season in first. More importantly, let's see if I can win the Tournament of Champions and the trip to Las Vegas on Monday. Wish me luck!

As of this writing, I'm currently *second* place in the World Pub Poker Tour. I'm only 27 points away from the holder of first place, Tom Grassick. Tom and I aren't exactly good friends or anything, but we've had a few good laughs around the poker table. I guess you could say that we're on friendly terms. We like to talk poker strategy while playing strange poker variants. More importantly, though, Tom has described me as a "solid player."

Wow, if the WPPT leader is calling me a solid player, then I really must not suck that bad. I've tried pretty hard over the past year or so to improve my game, and I think it's paying off. Although I will admit that a large portion of my points comes from simply being adamant about attending every event (and, perhaps to a smaller extent, being sober during the second game), it would seem to stand to reason that skill is a big factor as well.

Martin Millerchip is a WPPT player who busted me out on the very first night playing poker at the WPPT. In the most recent game at Jack Lonsdale's, while Tom and I were taking a seat, he groaned and said, "Oh no.. I have to sit at the table with Tom *and* Randy? Isn't that a bit too much?" I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Here was a player who I had respected for the entire duration of the WPPT series of tournaments suddenly complimenting me in his own little way. In fact, there seems to be more of this happening now ("Oh no, I have to play with *him*..?") You'd think that this was a negative thing, but really, it's probably one of the most sincere forms of flattery you'll ever get at a poker table.

When you play in the WPPT, you get what's known as a "pink chip." The pink chip is your all-in chip. So, instead of calling "all-in", you just toss your pink chip into the pot and it clearly signals what it is that you're doing. The nice thing about this is that if you knock someone out, you get their pink chip. The pink chip then adds an extra point to your leaderboard standings. This means that there's more aggressive play through the tournament, since calling someone's all-in has just become more worthwhile. Think about it: what's worth more? A pink chip that gives you a permanent boost in your standings, or playing conservatively to accumulate more play chips that will ultimately be worth nothing? Remember, Doyle Brunson once wrote that the key to no limit Texas Hold'em is to put your opponent to a decision for all of his chips. Nobody ever won any Texas Hold'em tournament without getting into a few coinflip showdown situations.

Anyway, here's a situation in a recent game that highlights how important that pink chip really is. I was chip leader sitting at a table in late position with Queen-10 offsuit. The player under the gun went all in for under 25% of my chips. Now, considering that there's a pink chip up for grabs, and that at this stage in the season anything that would help me to get one over on Tom Grassick would be to my advantage, I'm not sure why this particular individual was shocked when I made the call and flipped over my mediocre hand. He flipped over his big slick (that's Ace-King for all you non-poker playing readers out there.) The flop came nothing, but then I spiked my ten on the turn.

Traditionally, this would be considered a bad call. But the pink chip was the deciding factor. If it wasn't for the pink chip, I would've let him have the blinds. When you add the fact that -- had I lost -- I would've been left with a healthy 75% of my stack, it all of a sudden became an easy call to make. Unfortunately, my opponent didn't see it that way and went on a mini Phil Hellmuth sort of rampage. "Why the hell did you call with *that*?" He then continued to grumble about amateur players spiking cards before shambling away from the table to go report his loss. Sorry, bud, but my 35% odds of winning against your big slick were still great odds when you factor in the pink chip.

I really enjoy the casual atmosphere at the WPPT, but the game is just far too easy. It's not challenging enough, and it's pretty obvious that I'm not a terrible player. I'll play the remainder of the season (with the goal of obtaining position on the leaderboard as points leader), but I'll likely tone it down for the next season. Most of the games are in North Vancouver, which is a bit out of the way from work and where I live. The games then last until midnight or so, which sometimes puts a nice dent into my sleep schedule if I need to be up at 6 or 7 the following morning. Then you look at pure cost: a night out at the pub playing poker costs $20 or more, so doing this five nights a week costs me over $100.

Which brings me to my next point: gambling addiction. It's a serious problem and should be taken seriously. Anyone who has known me for any period of time knows that I have a strong aversion of addictive activities. Smoking, drinking, drugs, it doesn't matter -- I just don't do it. In fact, anyone who even remotely suggests that I engage in any (of what I would characterize as 'aversive') activity knows that I get quite upset about it. If you want me to lose my temper in very short order, just suggest that I have some liquor. I dare you.

However, because I'm aware of the possibility for any gambling activity to become addictive, I've taken several steps to make sure it isn't so. Shannon's well informed of any trip I take to the casino. I put a strict budget limit on any visit and I don't exceed it. I'm very public about my gambling and frequently mention it in my journal with plenty of details. If I don't have the means to gamble (that is to say, if the store has been having a bad month) then I don't do it. I don't play games with a high house edge (slot machines, video poker with a poor payout, etc.) And, lastly, I'm one cheap bastard of a gambler. I don't look for the high stakes games, but I look for the cheapest way possible to gamble. If I can play video poker for a penny a hand, I'll do it. Blackjack for a dollar? Sign me up. For me, gambling isn't a way to make money, it's a form of entertainment.

The American Psychiatric Association defines a problem gambler as someone who meets at least five of any of the following criteria:

1. Gambling occupies the person's thoughts frequently.
2. Larger or more frequent wagers are required to experience the same "rush" of gambling.
3. Irritability or other withdrawal symptoms surface when the person hasn't gambled for a period of time.
4. Gambling improves the person's mood or serves as an 'escape' from day-to-day problems.
5. The person chases gambling losses with more gambling.
6. Frequent lying about the extent of gambling activity occurs.
7. Attempts to reduce the amount or frequency of gambling fails.
8. The person is compelled to break the law in order to earn money for the purpose of gambling.
9. Gambling interferes with personal or business relationships.
10. Financial assistance from friends or family is required as a 'bailout' for gambling losses.
11. The person has a norepinephrine deficiency in their body.

I will confess that gambling does occupy my thoughts frequently, and I'll watch a poker show whenever I get the chance (High Stakes Poker is one of my favourite.) However, I certainly do not make larger or more frequent wagers. If anything, my wagers become smaller and *less* frequent depending on where I am and how the odds are. I don't get moody when I haven't gambled for a while, but I will confess that gambling does make me relax. It's fun and it's entertaining. I absolutely don't chase my losses, and I enter the casino having considered the money in my pocket 'dead money' already (i.e. if I lose it, it's no big deal, but winning on it is a pleasant bonus.) I've never lied about my gambling activities, in fact, I've kept them out in the open as much as possible. Reducing the frequency of gambling is no problem for me, and sometimes I won't even notice until weeks go by without a visit to the casino. I don't break the law for the purposes of obtaining money to gamble. Gambling has never interfered with any relationship: personal, business, or otherwise. I have never asked for a gambling loan after having already lost money to gambling. Finally, since I'm not a doctor, I can't speak to whether or not I have a norepinephrine deficiency, but for the sake of argument, let's just say "yes" to this one.

This means I qualify for three out of the eleven criteria for being a "problem gambler." Two points of which are on shaky ground; I have no idea if I'm norepinephrine deficient or not, and just because gambling helps me to relax doesn't mean that it's addictive. Not withstanding the fact that you need five of these criteria to qualify, I think I'm pretty far from being a "problem gambler."

With that being said, when you take into consideration that the World Pub Poker Tour costs me in excess of $100 per week, and my gambling budget is typically less than one quarter of that amount, what's the larger problem? Perhaps I have a "pub addiction" that needs to be taken care of.

I don't mind using the term "gambling", but the reality of poker is that it's a game of skill with some luck elements mixed in. How else do you think that the professional poker players are able to stay in business? Johnny Chan, Phil Hellmuth, Daniel Negreanu, and Doyle Brunson all commonly make final tables in major poker tournaments. If it were pure gambling (a game of luck), then that wouldn't be the case. You don't see any professional Craps players, now do you?

After my performance at the WPPT, I think it makes sense to focus more on the serious types of poker playing. Don't get me wrong, I don't have any aspirations to become a professional poker player, but I do think it's time to kick my game up a notch. I'm not going to abandon the WPPT, nor am I going to begin spending copious amounts of money at the local casino. I simply believe that improving my game isn't going to come through playing at the local pub, but in a far more formalized atmosphere.

Speaking of improvements, I've decided this week to throw away my SuperCard Lite that I've been using on my Nintendo DS. The original plan for the SuperCard Lite was to load it up full of GBA roms (that is, of games that I already owned) so that it was easier to play what I want on the road. Seriously, it's just far more convenient to load up a micro-SD card than to carry around a bag of GBA cartridges. Besides, then it allows me to keep my games brand new and sealed -- and everyone knows I'm just an asshole when it comes to keeping my stuff sealed ;)

The SuperCard Lite was god awful. Some people *cough*Brian*cough* like to say that I was "expecting too much" from the cart, but the reality is, all I wanted to do was play the games I had legitimately purchased. Unfortunately, since the SuperCard Lite has no battery backup, it requires you to patch the GBA roms so that it can be interrupted with a key sequence that will then prompt it to dump your save game to the micro-SD card. This is all well and good, until it *begins to affect rom performance*. Yes, that's right, it slows the game down. Final Fantasy VI was so slow as to be unplayable: the fastest battle setting acted like the slowest in reality.

I tried everything I could to fix this issue to no avail. The only option I had left was to locate a similar device that would actually save GBA saves on the fly without any patching. It turns out that such a device exists: the M3 Lite. The M3 Lite runs completely unpatched roms and automatically saves without any further intervention from the player. As a bonus, the micro-SD slot is on the side of the cartridge, which means it's not exposed to the outside of the cartidge (which, in the case of the SuperCard Lite, meant that any little bump would cause it to freeze up.)

I thought we were living in the 21st century. Is that too much to ask?

This journal entry has rambled on long enough. I managed to snag Shannon and I two tickets to the 12:15am (ugh, getting up tomorrow will be a challenge) showing of "300". It should be awesome. If I make a journal entry about it, then you *know* it was awesome. Adios!

As of this writing, I'm fifth place overall in the World Pub Poker Tour. This is out of about 300 people. Not too bad.

But, boy did I ever play some shitty poker tonight. The first hand of the night had me chasing a gut shot straight draw. Stupid. Then, as if that wasn't enough to teach me a lesson, I went halfway through chasing a flush. To make up for my sudden lack of chips, I tried to semi-bluff a hand while I still had enough to be dangerous. I got called and out-kicked, and was the first person out. In poker slang, this is called being the "donkey" ;)

The second game wasn't too bad. I was two people away from making final table and had my queen-high flush beat by a king-high flush, while there was an ace in my suit on the board.

So, I've been playing in a series of tournaments around the greater Vancouver area known as the World Pub Poker Tour. These are freeroll tournaments that start at 7:00pm and then 9:30pm nightly with approximately 50 to 60 people per tournament. Since the tournaments are free, you're only competing for points on the leaderboard, of which I am currently in 16th place (out of 174 people total.) Anyone who comes in first place in one of these "satellite" events, or, anyone who accumulates over 500 points total is automatically entered into the WPPT Tournament of Champions at the end of the season. The winner of the Tournament of Champions gets a free trip for two to Las Vegas. Sweet.

I figure that this level of play is about right for me. Unlike some people who have aspirations to become professional poker players, I'm quite satisfied playing these casual games. Playing professionally is out of the question: the barrier of entry is much too high (I figure a WPT-level poker player must start with a bankroll of $100,000 or more to have a fighting chance), the competition is far too fierce, and it must be one *mother* of a boring job. Most people see playing poker as a glamorous thing, but the reality is that after you've mastered the game to a certain degree, it becomes a bit of a daily 'grind' where you *have* to play just to make your daily 'pay.' It's not like there's any variation in how things are played, it's just the same freaking game over and over again. I'd invite anyone who thinks playing freerolls online makes them a great poker player to give a $4/$8 table at a local casino a try. You'll see where you stand, then.

Things are pretty casual at the World Pub Poker Tour. Everyone takes a turn dealing, and the atmosphere is absolutely alive. Poker tables at the local casinos aren't too bad on the atmosphere factor, but they're definitely far more quiet and serious. I mean, everyone's there to make some money, so of course it's going to be serious. At the very least, since WPPT events are, you know, held at *pubs*, the liquor that goes around ensures some pretty good times. Even if I don't partake in the whole drinking thing ;) Of course, Shannon figures it's unfair that I get to play in the 9:30pm game sober, because about half of everyone else is simply slammed by that point. Alas, their loss, my gain :P

Playing lots of live games like this is certainly giving me some great experience, though. Recall when I was a nervous wreck at the River Rock Casino Early Bird tournament? Well, I had those jitters for the first couple of WPPT events, but now I'm loosening up rather nicely. It's pretty easy for me to sit back and relax, now, so this should help my game in the long run. I'm finding that it's easier to make bets in general, whether it be for defending, advertising, or value. Also, I seem to be chasing far fewer bad hands, which is a relief; the number of hands where I've been badly beaten has gone way down.

Instead more things like what happened last night are beginning to happen. I was at the final table with nine other people. I look down at my cards: Queen-Queen. Sweet. I'm in the big blind, so I wait for the action to go around.. oh, look at that, someone's raising it. Excellent. So, I go all in, and he calls. We flip over our cards, and he's got King-Ten. Awesome. The flop does nothing for either of us.. and then a king comes on the turn. Agh!

As far as I'm concerned, poker is like coding: great hobby and great people. Would I do it for a living? No way, that'd take the fun out of it!

So, I've finally managed to finish Children of Mana on the Nintendo DS after about a month of pledging, "I'm almost done! Almost there!" It wasn't an easy feat, to be sure, but not because the game was particularly difficult. Instead, the game turned out to become a bit of a *chore* after a while. The story was rather uninteresting, and the characters were very flat. The music and graphics were great, and the gameplay was even pretty good. This game fits nicely into that, "played once, but never again" category. I decided to put together a bit of a micro-review on the specifics:

• Story: Almost non-existent. It tries to be subtle, deep, and meaningful in some way, but it really doesn't gel together at all. It comes off as being fake and a bit of a tack-on. None of the characters are memorable for any reason at all, and you never really build any true feelings for any of them. Obviously there's some kind of tie-in to the other 'Mana' games, but I could care less about it.
• Music & Graphics: Surprisingly good. I found the music to be catchy and appropriate, to the point where I'd have a few bars of the melody stuck in my head from time to time. Not necessarily a bad thing, to be sure. The graphics reminded me of a very nicely done SNES-era game, which is (of course) where my favourite batch of RPG's come from. The cut scenes were really nicely done. In this area, the game really, really shines.
• Gameplay: What looks complex and interesting on top really falls on its face later in the game. You have 'magic', except that it's not about casting spells in the traditional sense. Instead, you summon these esper-like beings which then cast one of two spells at random. The one esper-like being that can cast a healing spell does it once in a blue moon, and then only for a fraction of your hit points. My healing in-game was done only by using healing items. Furthermore, the 'fury' bar (which lets you enter into a bit of a 'berserker' mode) was unused in the last two-thirds of the game on account of the game being too easy. The only weapon I ever used was the sword, making switching between weapons to accomplish certain tasks little more than a chore.

Most people are calling this game a "hack and slash" or a "dungeon crawl", which I don't mind. I mean, Paladin's Quest (really, Lennus) was a hack and slash, but it was far more fun and challenging. The big problem that Children of Mana had was that the 'randomly generated' dungeons really aren't random at all. They use the same six or seven layouts depending on the theme (ice, desert, grasslands, etc) and then manipulate objects inside of those layouts to make it appear random. For once I want to see a new randomly generated dungeon done *right*, just like in the good old days of Lufia II and AD&D: Slayer. Hell, the AD&D game for the *Intellivision* did a randomly generated dungeon better than Children of Mana did!

I also remain confused about how this game was able to get such high acclaim in the Japanese press. I understand that they enjoy hack and slashes a lot more than we do over here (myself not withstanding), but the lopsidedness of this game really puzzles me. It's like the reviewers didn't play the game from start to finish or something: the game looks awesome on its face, but then gets uglier and uglier the more you play.

Now that I'm finished with *that*, I can move on to games with more soul. Next is Final Fantasy V Advance, and then Final Fantasy VI Advance. That is a game, I can assure you, that will have a *ton* more soul ;)