In the process of cleaning out old files on my hard drive, I find myself reading old irc logs, saved to my hard drive at a time when I found my view of the world undergoing some serious tremors. During the time since those eventful weeks took place, a recurring question has plagued me. All attempts to discover a definitive answer have proved futile.

The question on my mind again tonight: Was I sane?

In attempting to determine an answer, as far as I can see, I have 3 sources from which to draw: (1) My memories, (2) accounts of other people with whom I was in contact at the time, and (3) hard historical records, such as things that were written at the time, photographs, recordings, etc, which would include the irc log linked to above.

(Item 1 might be not be considered totally trustworthy, since the inquiry regards the stability of my mind at the time. However, my memory of objective events seems highly consistent with both (2) and (3) at times where they intersect, so I would conclude that even if my powers of reasoning might have been compromised, my mind's ability to record what happened remained in tact. It might have even been better than usual.)

Hmmmm.... Is there even any point to this whole inquiry? Why should I even try to figure out whether my brain was functioning properly or not? I know the answer now, because I remember it. I knew it then too.

I was fuckin looney, man! Over the top. Brain chemicals imbalanced, short on sleep, having pseudo-visions of the apocalypse, as I struggled each minute to keep a grip on reality.

Or is that really how it was? Maybe that part was confabulated.

In part, I regret that I didn't write MORE about some of the far out shit I was thinking. Maybe then, I could have some solid evidence that, yes, I was nuts. Case closed. Move on.

But no. On August 5, during the return trip from my vacation to Longview, when I realized that my brain was seriously on its way to taking its own vacation from reality, I resolved that no matter how nutty my thoughts became, I would maintain my composure. No more mental hospitals for me. Even if I wasn't sane, I could fake it until the medications kicked in, which could potentially take days or weeks.

And I did. Mostly.

A few weeks ago, I asked $mentor[0] how he had perceived me during our meeting on August 6. (I had temporarily taken down my attempt to appear normal, since I trust him a great deal.) He said that to him, I had seemed agitated, paranoid, and almost completely unable to focus or listen.

So much for being a super hero. Honesty can hurt sometimes.

Reading my comments on irc, web, email, and elsewhere confirms that while I was more or less coherent most of the time, there were multiple occassions where my paranoia rose to the surface. Usually, it was focused on my soon to be former employer. Why?

Looking at it now, I see that while there was some cause for discontent, due to the layoffs and other apparently foolish decisions made by those running the company, the intensity of my words was disproportionate to the situation. Then, they fired me, which gave me all the more reason to distrust them. (For the record, I still maintain that the stated reasons for the termination were unsupported BS, but I can't blame them too much for wanting to get rid of me.)

Anyway, I am sick of regurgitating the past. But somehow, it just keeps coming back. Can I let it rest? Ever?

Guess not.

Tonight's music recommendation: Regenerator. Unfortunately, only partial demos are available for download, but I was so impressed with those that I placed an order for the cd. Time to quit spending money, so I can pay off my goddamn car debt.

(And don't expect these music recommendations to continue indefinitely on a semi-daily basis. Lately, I've just been in a music-scavanging mood. Share the joy.)

scottgalvin.com is funny on jabber. Goodnight.