Off The Trail - The Shittiest Post Yet

So I'm back.

There are probably a few things that you loyal readers would like to hear - but the only thing I feel like saying right now is this: I regret nothing.

"You suck because you didn't post!" I regret nothing.

"You promised you'd keep in touch!" I regret nothing.

"You promised me you'd be faithful!" I regret nothing.

Now, I missed people, sure. But man alive, I was just in a different universe. I only vaguely knew what it was like to love your job before this. I used to wait tables at a bar in Glasgow, and back then we'd have quiet moments where we'd all be hanging out, sneaking drinks on the sly, and having a few laughs. Those were good times. I remember getting too drunk and proceeding to strip on the stage in the centre of the bar (if that isn't a positive work environment, I don't know what is!). So I loved those moments - especially naked moments - and I guess in my own little way I loved that job. Or rather, I loved aspects of it. I never loved every minute of something. Hell, I don't think I've ever loved every minute of anything. Until Florida.

I suppose it's hard to talk about your first loved job in terms of any other job... Every othe job just pales to the point of invisibility. I liken it more to surfing. Or to skiing. The paddle out, or the epic chair ride up the hill. Those things that would be brutal in any other situation, are not only okay, but almost good by the very virtue of where they are leading. It's a rare moment where you see the forrest through the trees. See the bigger picture. There is so much good, it outweighs the brief bad moments.

Sitting up at 3:30 AM on a Wednesday night just cashing data like it was going out of style. That would have been the worst moment of my entire life. Except somehow it was the absolute best.

Now I know that people are probably reading this (actually, that's unlikely... but for the sake of this paragraph, let's assume it's the case) and thinking, "he loved his job... what a dick." And they'd be right! Anyone who signed on after almost a month-long absence should not, in any way, be allowed to gloat about what a great time they had. Their stories should be light-hearted romps, things that you could understand even if you weren't there. Like this Korean girl with Downs Syndrome who worked in our office. Oh man, there are some stories there! So why would I log on and proceed with a diatribe on my passion and inspiration for political work?

It's not because I want to rub it in that I love(d) my job. Hell, if anything is makes ME the most miserable of all to read or write about it!! I'm the one who tasted the sweet before being tossed back into shit creek. So why am I putting finger to key to tell you all what a fucking amazing time I had?

So you can come to understand that I have almost nothing to say about it. It was, in the most profound way, the most important thing I have ever done in my entire life. It is a daunting high-water mark to face at 25. There is likely nothing that will come close to the thrill of where I was and what I did. So there's no way I can even dream of writing any of it down. It was too big for me to be able to digest. Like a 12 Lb hamburger. It didn't just fill me up, it re-made me into something completely new - mostly beef and bun with some ketchup for taste, my pores smelling of charbroil. 

So while I will periodically start sentences with, "In Florida..." from now on, I'm just going to go out on a limb right now and say: I have nothing to say about my past month working for Obama.