Dog days

I seriously thought my brain was going to melt itself yesterday. I've been having a "bad spell" for a bit, pushing away from friends and family, tailspinning. The lone beer in my fridge isn't going to help, but the two bottles of wine just might. I'm losing my fucking mind, caught in an unmedicated bi-polar tailspin that continues to become more severe with each episode. Do I rise to the challenge and dent my skull from the inside out with the a small caliber projectile? I know now that isn't the way to go, but yesterday it seemed logical, natural, easy. That is fucked up.
So now I'm going to have to deal with some serious shit, see a shrink and check into a mental institution of sorts. I'm not sure if the Dr. Feelgood industry is going to be any help, but I'm willing to walk that path in hopes of finding a solution.
I can't stop eating, but I can't taste food. I can't stop crying, but I'm not really sad. I can't find peace, and yet I have absolutely nothing to fucking do right now except job hunt. I used to wish for a month off so I could "do that thing" and build some amazing totem to illustrate how awesome I am. I built a shed.
I'm glad the blackness has passed but I recognize there is a problem. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.
I sneak a peek into the backyard and watch my 11 month old dog furiously digging a huge pile with both paws rapid firing dirt out of the growing hole. She is so amped, so singular in purpose and so focused that I don't have it in my to derail her efforts. A few seconds later she sees me, nose and paws dirty with guilt and sticky clay. She slinks down low into the hole hoping I won't notice the gigantic patch of lawn missing, or the dog hunkered down in it. I smile for the first time in a while and it feels good.

Stevens Pass Day 3: $1.60

I must have eaten something aggro last night because I work up at 4:30 a.m. with a mean case of the tummy rumbles. I'm a voracious eater that suffers brutal aftermath. I'm not sure which part of the garlic and oil cheese pizza caused the rumbling, but I decided my best strategy would be to give my stomach a catalyst to purge these aromatic demons from my digestive tract. I fired up a pot of coffee and waited for about five minutes.
Despite grossing myself out, I was stoked that I could head to the mountain with my latest sharting episode behind me. With the fan humming on hi and my girlfriend providing me with the cursory "EEWWWWWW!" as she headed in, I figured today would pretty alright.
But after taking a few runs on the mountain my cell phone blew up with the familiar number of my former employer. That brief spark, the faint glimmer of hope was bright for an instant, then faded. Sheryl Olson informed me that Community Transit had denied my request to be reinstated, and that my former boss had seriously considered it but that it wouldn't work out.
I'll admit that I wasn't having all that much fun at my job before I was fired, but I still think I'm the best Outreach person in the bunch. I'm bummed out. I fucked up. I've certainly lost my mind a little bit. Oh well.
I played polite and nice and thanked Sheryl for her help. I guess if Community Transit doesn't want me as a part of their family, so be it. I think it's funny that we paint this "agency" picture of togetherness until something difficult comes up. Then it all weird, secretive and hush hush.
I wonder if they had sent out an email that said "Gormley fucked up again. He's fired!" would there have been more discussion, a champion for my cause? It seems consensus is the new best way to manage. Never mind cutting edge, leading edge or risk. We're gonna market by committee and proxy!
Someone said a camel is a horse that is designed by committee. Very apt, indeed.
I miss the paycheck and friends I had from my old job.
I don't miss power stuggles, fear, bullshit or posturing. I also don't miss being polite over being direct, enabling underachievement nor celebrating token milestones in the name of Unity.
Good luck with Swift, Social Media and other neat stuff. Call me if you change your mind... I'll be the weird guy with the beard snowboarding every day.
Oh yeah, I spent $1.60 at the ski area today. Rain in the forecast.

Stevens Pass: Day two

I rallied again to Stevens Pass today. No new snow but they were running the 7th Heaven Chairlift and we scored some dope freshies. While I headed up the mountain with Alex Shults, we had a bit of a debate regarding "free passes." I'm of the opinion that this gravy train could stop anytime, so I try to keep it real. NawhaImean? Anyhow, Shults feels the fucking world owes him something. I disagree.
So I rode a bunch and when the pow was blown out we headed on a short hike to secret location X. This was awesome. Now I have a motorcycle in my living room again. Why, you might ask? I say, why not!

Opening Day at Stevens Pass 2009

Opening day at Stevens Pass was fucking epic. I needed a day of schralp to get my head straight. Nose diving into a foot of new snow always helped me rattle my self back to normal. Funny how losing my balance riding helps me find it in other aspects of my life... I'm heading up tomorrow as well seeing as how I have secured a season pass in exchange for writing some nice things about the mountain and documenting the season with megapixels. I would like to try and ride 100 days this winter. If I'm not gonna have a job, I might as well have some fun.

The criteria:
Ride 100 days. Spend less than $5.00 a day at the mountain (preferably $0.00). Take photos (at least 4 for the web) each time I'm on the hill. Write 50 to 100 words for each day I'm at Stevens Pass. Network and job hunt honestly so I'm not a total shit pile. We'll see how it goes.

Sammy Sosa lightens things up a bit...

Who cares? White folks are always darkening their skin to look darker during the summer season. What gives? Better still, who gives a hoot?

No organics for me.

I just found out I didn't get the job as an organic farm marketing guy. Bummer.

Clarity, charity, doom and gloom?

All I can do right now it hunt, peck, tap keys and attach resumes... I know what I want to do, but I wish it wasn't so untimely. Regrettably, I had plans. I'm bummed on one front, but incredibly liberated on the other. If it wasn't for the dire need for little green pieces of paper to pay for things, items and tasks, I'd be all set. I'm pretty cheap, so I can stretch my reserves, but Ditech, P.U.D. and C.O.B.R.A. have demands on my resources.
It's bleak out there right now. Despite being educated, healthy and white, I can't lock up a gig for the life of me. Six weeks of happy hunting and I'm on a few short lists. While the clock is ticking, I can't help but agonize over having blown a good gig. The money and benefits were fantastic, but the bullshit was uber deep. After having lunch with a former colleague today I realize even more the depth of my mistake. What type of asshole gets fired during a depression? This asshole.
I'm not getting married anytime soon. The plan for kids is put on the back burner. I'm trying to move forward, but feel railroaded, for sure.
Any way you slice it, I fucked up. That is the deal. The ball is in my court.