Precious Weekends

For a large part of our lives, weekends meant the start of the school week but also another week closer to the long holidays.

Now, it seems like a never-ending battle every week, desperately grasping at some intangible relief from our working lives. Friday evening rolls by, Saturdays and Sundays fly faster than fighter jets.

Before you know it, it's back to the warfront. Make no mistake, I don't not like what I do now. Frankly, I love the markets but maybe I'm just really tired now. Sadly, my gap-month holiday in between jobs never did come to fruition. Perhaps the next one.

For now, I really wish my weekends were longer.

Month End

It's been a month. Time really flew by somehow. Being constantly forced to make split second decisions at work and standing on my toes has me worried about the rate at which my hair will drop. Getting used to this new routine, despite knocking off early each day, I still feel that there isn't enough time in the world to do everything I want to do. Prioritize, prioritize. That's what we should all do...but that comic strip is screaming to be read, the vampire serial is hiding somewhere in the shadows.

Rambly now, incoherent thoughts. Just wrapped up my own month end report, complete with analysis of statistics, qualitative improvements required and other notes collated from here and there. Gotta keep improving, gotta keep pushing. I think it's very hard for me to describe this process of self-discovery to someone else, it's all just internal.

Performance improved this week, numbers don't lie. Trying to recapture some parts of myself. Read through lots of old journals and sketchpads, it seems like I never stopped writing, doodling and letting my subconscious run wild. It's actually quite scary how much I churn out - even now at work. I have a daily journal (full of preparations, news, notes, daily log, good/bad points), weekly overview (prepared on Sunday), spreadsheet (to log trades and analysis), playbook (something I developed over time), collections of other's thoughts. I also have 2 other notebooks to document my own ideas and thoughts, this blog...the list goes on and on. I might end up having a notebook just to document what I have.

I'm truly a logger. (Not of the Canadian forest-felling variety).

That Feeling I Have No Word For

Early morning shower and routine before stepping out for a week of work. Then it hit me, this queasy tightening of my stomach muscles, a slight feeling of dread, guilt and something else. I never knew what to make of this.

I remember vividly the first time it assailed me. I was just a child and we were all huddled into the toilet where the teacher make us strip. We were all lined up side by side while she doused us with a hose. Cleansing. At that point, I felt exactly how I feel now, and more than two decades later, I still don't know what it is.

I remember rainy mornings in primary school. I would look out the window and think, yay, no need for the childcare centre (school was just a short walk away and my mom thought it was too troublesome to drag two noisy children along).

Such a strange feeling, as if my gut was saying, hey lookie here now, it's the life you have chosen and you ain't going nowhere. Would this be something like a feeling of resignation? Or a feeling of excitement? I could never really understand it.

Disconnection, Full-Speed Ahead

Been slightly disconnected from reality as my brain tries to maximize results from my current experiences. Running full-speed ahead.

Had an interesting conversation the other day with a newly-made acquaintance. We were discussing about risk adversity and it suddenly dawned on me that I was, perhaps, a greater risk-taker than I really am. Take, for example, the change in occupation to one that you either succeed or fail, with the latter having a probability of more than 80%. Most people would stick to a tried-and-tested route rather than going after that goal, while the worst loss possible to me would just be that I'm out of a job and I need a new one.

So many people live their lives afraid of change, afraid of chasing after their dreams. Yes, dreams change, circumstances change but really, they are all just excuses. Even when you find yourself treading the path of your dreams, it ain't over yet. The insane amount of hard work and perseverance required could be daunting enough to scare most people away. We often forget that. However, one of the axioms of trading is that you suffer from your greatest risk the moment prior to putting on that trade. After that, it's all about risk management.

You, my dear reader, what are those dreams that you have laid hidden in dusty notebooks or the recesses of your mind? What have you been using as excuses not to pursue what you want? And obviously, what the hell do you want? Do you even know that?

Statistically Speaking

This path is tough and attrition rate is 90%. Out of the five newbies at the firm, only one will survive (and do exceedingly well). I'm determined to be that person, hence weekends are a good time for me to go through my excessive notes taking and reflect on the week's performance.

After two weeks of data collection, I have determined that I have but a small edge in the market, 33% win-rate with a very tiny positive expectancy (at least it's above zero). Based on the number of data points, this conclusion can be said to be statistically significant and I have to work harder at improving my hit rate and increasing my expectancy.

The greatest achievement this week was perhaps how I learnt to handle my emotions after the market close. While performance is relative and scores are reset each day, having negative emotions is a recipe for greater disaster, especially when it affects next day's actions and my interactions with people around me. Hence, I need to remind myself each day to remain positive and do not allow these externalities to affect my mood in any way possible.

Nevertheless, the learning curve is definitely exponential and there are so many factors that I have to consider to improve my game. This is seriously not a job for hobbyists and dreamers (who think that holding the job title would bring them riches). We will see how this week goes, I hope to improve on my performance.

I See You

The brightest day ever. I dutifully put on the face mask and rubbed alcohol from the dispenser all over my hands and arms. It was not yet visiting hours and I sat at the chairs, thinking about the delicious snacks contained in the sandwich machine. Next to it was the drinks vending machine; the Milo cup on display reminded me of a childhood spent among the same antiseptic corridors. I remember fragments of lonely nights spent on a strange bed worrying about ghosts that haunt the corridors.

Someone left the automatic doors opened and I sneaked in, despite the sign that said visitation hours begin at five. It was only thirty minutes past four. I located his bed and saw his heavyset self looking at me. The nameless girl was there again. I wondered about their relationship for a while but chose to ignore it.

He looked better today despite the tubes stuck up his arm, neck and one in his mouth. The respirator heaved at regular intervals. I said hi and stood in silence. He could not talk but communicated by writing on a notepad. We did not have to make small talk. And I stood there in silence looking at him while the girl stared at her phone. She wore a sweater that looked familiar, someone had the same but in a different color. My mind wandered into the depths of my memory. For a while, I stared at the graphs on the Intellievue, noting how things mean reverted.

I watched the view outside, golden sunlight and a cobalt sky. I shuffled my feet in the stillness of the room. He looked like he was in better spirits but breathing seemed a laborious task. Outside, a young boy was pedaling on his tricycle, his father watching him closely. Soon, they went out of my view and I stared at cleaners hanging on a scaffold, cleaning windows of a condominum in the distance. Life outside went on while people laid in beds here fighting to stay alive. Doctors walked passed with tired expressions. Time melted away as the second hand ticked on the wall-mounted clock.

He gestured that he was thirsty and she brought him a syringe filled with water. Clumsily, he squirted water to parch his thirst, lips cracked from dryness. Some drops dribbled down his chin. She wiped away the water with so much affection and care. A nurse came in, checked the waste bag and went out. It was only a quarter filled with orange pee. How did one get reduced to this state of incapicitation?

Being there depressed me, as I stood next to the bed in silence. He continued to read his magazine, staring at pictures of food; angrily, he stuffed it away.

"Soon, soon," I said.

Moments passed and suddenly, I announced my departure. I slipped through the automatic door as it opened and rejoined the mindless crowds.

Creating Opportunities

New work, new challenges, new people. Thankfully, less people to deal with. No need for pleasantries, no need for politics. As my mentor said to me last Friday over afternoon stouts, you gotta keep creating opportunities for yourself, you gotta be more proactive instead of reactive, always be anticipating. Guess that applies to many areas in life, besides trading.

Other than that, I am completely washed up everyday. Brain feels dead after trading. I hope I adjust to this soon. And yes, social interactions have been reduced to a bare minimum, till I adjust to new surroundings.

Reality Bites

Talked to some senior guys after work today and things weren't as rosy as initially pictured. Sent me reeling into a range of thoughts on how to make the best of time here. Nevertheless, I will continue to progress and learn more useful practical skills; things I couldn't have achieved alone and discover/experiment with new strategies.

Despite official ending time at 2:30pm everyday, I'm putting in extra effort to get myself prepared. Spending additional time at home preparing myself is worth it.

Some say this is the toughest job in the job, others look at the seemingly easy money and flexible hours and say, I can do that too.

Yea right. You and the 80% who fail with too much hubris and pride.

Workworkwork. I'm a blue-collared worker.

Burning

Obviously, lack of entries indicate the slow burning of my consciousness.

New life. New challenges.

I wish I had a short break.

I wonder...why am I less excited after the fact than all the pining and whining before?

Human nature; anticipation always better than receiving what you wanted.

The (Non)-Event

Friday marked the first day at the new place. It was a small outfit with a much more relaxed air about everything. Didn't do much the first day but getting to know people and setting my machines up. Mentor's a cool guy, who took me on a short spin in his SLK to a drinking hole at three in the afternoon.

Yes, I finish work early from now on. But hell, it's gonna be a whole lot more intense when I'm working. I already spent six hours on a Sunday night preparing things for tomorrow.

Make no mistake my friends, trading is a blue collar job. We go in, we do what we are trained to do, day in, day out, the same shit.

If I succeed, well, at least I get more money. If I don't it's gonna be devastating for my psychology.

Strangely not as excited as I thought I would be. But still cool nonetheless.

Till I get better at the game.