From so long ago that I can barely remember who I was then, I can still remember what I expected/hoped trading full-time would be like. With visions in my head of multiply-paned octo-screens flashing multi-megabytes of data per second, I was sure that I would need several shifts of Mark I LBFMs each day to keep my stress under control. The reality is that a single 23 inch screen with five panes and software-driven audibles is fortunately as much as I need, and so well-within my sensory bandwidth capabilities that I have trouble staying awake. I would look like Bradley Cooper in "Limitless", all neatly-coiffed and after-shaved, smartly-dressed and the very picture of uber-successful American masculinity. The reality? Sometimes I change out of my camo-jammies, but not often. About as often as I shave and shower. I would be constantly juiced by the thrill of winning, high on my own brilliance and the constant Vegas-like ka-ching of daytrading. In reality it's point-click-wait-yawn-point-click-yawn. The most urgent feeling I get is the need to hit the head. Quite often an audible entry or exit alert will catch me napping. But it's too late now. I'm not qualified to get out of the house and work at any contemporary-skilled jobs any more. Time to post on ET!