While at the local Jewel, a display set up featuring the classic conversation hearts caught my eye. So I grabbed a box. During the car ride home I grabbed a heart and read it, “Amor”. Okay, no big deal, amor is a word commonly used in the English language as its even in the Scrabble dictionary. I grab another, “para ti”, instantly my mind tries to go back in time recalling high school Spanish - for you, I think. OK, the next will be a good one. Come on conversation heart - “¿que tal?” - “what’s going on” I quickly translate. And then I think, WTF, where’s the “cutie-pie” or the more modern and applicable “email me” phrases.

So I pick up the box and read “Corazones Dulces”. Nice. I grabbed the Spanish language Sweethearts. I feel dejected as part of the allure of this candy are the words. Hell, I would buy Necco wafers if I simply wanted them for the taste. I put down the box and read no more of the hearts as mine feels broken by the deceit of the little red box.

Then I return to the store a few days later to see how I could have made a mistake. I find the display and see that the entire stand is Corazones Dulces. Not one box is in English. I noticed some had been moved aside as if other people were also seeking the English language versions. Now I feel like I have a mission. One, to seek out the English version of the candies and two, to practice paying attention to details as there are about 75 boxes with Corazones Dulces staring right at me and I failed to take notice.

I find the seasonal candy aisle and seek out the hearts. I see some more of the Spanish ones. I spot the large bags on Sweethearts, but my corazon is set on the little boxes. Ah-ha, the little boxes. But wait, these are Brach’s conversation hearts, not Necco’s. I am not satisfied, but buy the box. Brach’s may be a little less chalky, but I grew up with Necco’s.

I preferred the Necco ® boxes for a sentimental reasons. In college, my roommate and I discovered the joy of Necco’s Easter Eggs. These are egg shaped candies only around during Easter which have male and female names printed on them. We would buy boxes of these candies and ue them to play games. For instance, we would say something like, “the next egg you pick out will be the name of the next person you kiss” or “the next egg name will be the name of the person you’ll marry”. Stupid girl-stuff that was damn fun. But like any type of games of prediction, we would skew it to our personal preferences. We also made a rule that if the question was something along the lines of “the next egg will be the name of the next person we sleep with” and the egg chosen revealed a girl’s name, we were allowed to pick until a boy name was selected.

Keep in mind, Necco isn’t actually producing eggs of hundreds of different names. My roommate’s name was available on the candy, in limited supply, but not mine. Another one of the names they printed happened to be the name of a preferred ex-boyfriend. So even though during the game I may have selected “james” several times to do whatever with, I didn’t like or hang out with a James, so it didn’t factor into the equation. But if I happened to pick up that “scott” name, I was all like, “oh my gosh, wouldn’t that be awesome!!”

We loved these eggs so much that we wrote a letter to Necco ®. We suggested that during Valentine’s season they also sell their SweetHearts but with the names of people on them as an alternate to their “conversation” hearts. We thought it would be great to place this game during Valentine’s time, maybe especially during that time. The Necco people responded and politely informed us that they were pretty satisfied with their current candy production schedule and seasonal products, so we shouldn’t wait for any name-bearing hearts any time soon.

Yes, I saved all the “scott” eggs one year in college , they all happened to be yellow, in a little plastic bag. I kept them for many years until I feared bugs would get into my memorabilia stash, so tossed them in the garbage, just like tossing away… No, no bitter simile, I simply threw them away minus any melodrama.

Learn about these little candy icons…

A couple of weeks ago I could find nothing to watch on television - nothing at all. Even with my sister’s wonderful cable package, nothing seemed appealing. So I turned on ESPN’s “World Series of Poker”. I am not sure what came over me as I would never ever have considered watching such an event in any of my crazy thoughts. But I watched. And watched. And have reached a point where episodes are repeating. I now recognize poker players and have even formed my “favorite” and “strongly dislike” player lists. The arrogance of some poker players surprise me. Some have groupies. Huh, groupies? Yes, it seems even poker players can acquire the stereotypical big-breasted, bleached-blondes followers.

It’s this whole other world where people earn millions, have fans, are considered experts and if I were to be standing next to one of this people at a drugstore or airport or DMV I wouldn’t give them a second thought, and for most of them, not a second glance. This “other world” phenomenon sometimes shocks me and I feel jealous and sad, like I would love to have the opportunity to explore all these worlds or be a big fish in one of these ponds. It’s at these moments it strikes me just how little I really do know about things. How “mediocre” I am, how middle class seems my destiny.

I grew up thinking poker was a game of luck. But logically I have to admit, if there are players who win games and tournaments several times over, mustn’t some skill and stratgey be involved? If a PhD in psychics, a guy who assumingly understands numbers and is driven by login, takes up poker as a profession, must it not be more than a game of chance?

I google my Meyers-Brigg Personality type and poker. It seems INTJ and INTP types do well in poker according to some theorists. My interest is piqued. I read stories of Internet poker players paying the bills with earnings. I need to pay bills. Maybe this is a calling. I lack a career calling and really want one. Maybe this is it. Professional Poker Player - real classy shit. The IRS must love seeing this on the tax returns. Get the pencils ready, auditors, you’ve got some investigating to do. A big break from the W2 monotony.

So I bought my first poker book and started playing in free online beginner games. I am playing weak players, this much I can tell, but I am not raking in the dough. I need to read that book. I see a new obsession for me. Probably short-lived, like all my other forays into hobbies, jobs, and people, but maybe, just maybe this will be the one thing I do well. I strive to be a master of one, versus none, but have never really excelled in one pure area. I’m a dabbler, a rambler, a lost soul searching. Generaly, I am no gambler, but perhaps, it should be explored. Let the chips fall where they may.

An aside: White pants scare me.