The New York Stock Exchange traded pretty decently today although you wouldn’t think it if you saw the look on my face. Even though we aren’t up by any significant margin, there were good trading opportunities in the get go and it wasn’t like you had to reduce size to be effective or anything like that. The money was there for the taking and I was definitely taking it. Unfortunately, I had already dug myself into a deep hole prior to the cash open ensuring that today was going to be more about damage control than actually making money.

I don’t know what happened but I completely screwed up trading the British Pound this morning. I just could not get a good read on the market and for some reason, just made more round trips than I should have. I basically dug myself a hole before signing off that contract and waiting for the cash open.

Obviously, today was not a good day. It started off badly and it just got worse from there with a brief respite trading the cash open.

I really hate this job. As you know, I spend a good part of my weekend silently thinking about how I got myself into this stupid field in the first place. The amount of sacrifice that I had to pour in has not come even close to justifying where I am now. Could it be that out of all the prospective conclusions, this is the best one my life could offer? For some people, that’s a plus but for me that is a glaring minus and all the more reason to fear the overall mechanics of fortune intertwined with life. That means that no matter what I read in any self-help book or whatever slogan I adopt with the goal of positive outcome, my life will largely be determined by luck more than skill and moreso that determination itself. I want to start over. I want to leave and go to a place where the wife and I can live gloriously but spending very little money. I know a place like that: it’s called Fantasyland and it doesn’t exist here on earth. The thought of that makes me sad.

I’ll always, and I mean always – remember those days walking along the front of the New York Stock Exchange, The New York Merc and the Chicago Merc. I’ll remember how bright eyed I was about expectations going in there. Then I remember that I will build a time machine, meet my younger self at one of those three places and smack the shit out of him and tell him to go to medical school.

But then, I would not have met my wonderful wife.

Shit’s crazy, yo.


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