“We’re running out of weeks of the season.”
“We’re running out of years in our lives.”

This was the conversation Evan and I had on Sunday which continues to toil through my pea brain. A few weeks earlier I said that we had to up the ante if we were going to make some sort of splash. I upped the ante and got my brain bashed in. At one point I was thinking I was Bald Bull, now I’m back to being the punching bag Glass Joe.

I’ve been watching MindHunter on Netflix and it’s a thinking man’s show. Very intellectual and based off of behavioral science. At one point of the show they main character said, “he falls in the age range of 35-41.” I thought to myself, “that’s old.” Then it hit me, that’s just about how old I am.

Since that nice DK tourny, I’ve gotten torched each week for the past 6 weeks. Not just DK, season long has been punishing. Wrong decision after wrong decisions cost me playoffs in all 4 leagues and it makes me want to put my head in the sand.

This isn’t a post looking for sympathy. It’s a post that describes how life doesn’t make it easy. You’ll always hear it’s not how you take it, but how you recover. I’ll have a part 2 on this post because I have a entire thought process on interacting with people that correlates to this post.