Yep. Another pathetic post coming full-steam ahead.
Nothing remarkable happened at all last night during the shift, other than the usual thinking about her. Except this time, instead of having images and memories of her churning around in my mind all going nowhere; tonight, I sort of pieced together clues, to try and better understand what her reasons were for breaking up with me.
I still to this day, am shocked at how sudden it all was. Like a light switch. It just zapped me by surprise while I was at work, it shook me hard enough to book out of there at noon, just to recompose myself.
It was a tough time for me, and I need to figure out how it all happened. She just wouldn't tell me. I don't know if she wants to spare my feelings, to deny me understanding, or something else that I'm not aware of.
So, I have to play the detective and try to figure this all out for myself. Not easy, I tell you. Going by what few clues I have.
This is what I've figured out so far. She initially fell for me on OkCupid because of the humor in my profile. This means she valued my levity, my lightness and playfulness. My brightest sense of being.
And for a while, it went great. I did manage to come into the relationship feeling like I had an unlimited capacity to love another human being; and was curious to know if Georgina was going to be the recipient of all my heart can offer.
But then, on May 1st, my Father died. And, my moods went sour, and sad and distracted.
I couldn't quite get my authentic self out there again. Not until I could overcome both my Father's passing, and the troubles I was having at work with a new job.
And I had to quit that new job, three days in. Because the foreman/supervisor implied to me over the phone that if I miss any more time, I would have to come here and get my tools. And be let go.
I had a problem with that. I had to take that time off. Not just to grieve, but to arrange for my Father's viewing. Which was the day I called into work saying that I couldn't come in, and the foreman/supervisor calls to threaten me if I don't show up.
It was one of those rush jobs, where they needed all hands on deck and were running on fumes. Small contract, just a couple of weeks; but my foreman/supervisor badly needed it finished, and didn't want to waste money spent on getting me onto site, if I wasn't actually going to be there.
That's when I quit, and had a shouting match with my foreman over this crap. The condescending way he said, "look, I'm sorry your dad died, but..." and then denying that he told me I was fired, even though I asked him to repeat himself twice, and then telling him I was going to come by to pick up my tools and quit.
Anyways, just a nasty argument/misunderstanding, whatever it was.
That didn't help my moods any, with my dad passing away, and then this.
A few weeks later, I get a job at a mod yard where its fast-paced and they are extra critical of the quality of work being put in. Foremans and bosses walking around constantly, making sure that everyone is on track and are pulling their weight. Just a beast patrol of a place to work at. I felt so pressured and stressed being there.
And to top it off, it was getting to be really hot outside which is no picnic for someone to be wearing thick coveralls, gloves, a hardhat and heavy boots. You start sweating like crazy, and as the sun beats down on your face, rapidly sunburning it; you start to get stressed. There's no real way of pacifying this for me, other than to either drink, do drugs, or have sex.
Yes, sex. Sex de-stresses me. Anyways, so thinking about all these factors naturally led to me becoming more withdrawn and less amusing to be around. Less.. interesting. Less giving. Less caring. More wanting sex. More selfish. Less put together.
So.. with these thoughts in mind, I began to form a picture of how Georgina once saw me. Or might have seen me. I also took into consideration a photo I saw of her at an event with her sociopathic alcoholic ex-boyfriend/father of her kids. In this picture, Gina was at a table smiling into the camera and Dustin, her ex, is on her right with this sullen expression on his face.
A light bulb kind of went off, once I remembered this picture. Maybe Gina came from a relationship where she was forced to keep a happy face, but was dying inside from the pain of being with someone like Dustin. Maybe Gina began to see similar things between how I was behaving, and how her ex might have behaved. Maybe she was so fearful of a repeat of her past relationship, that she would have rather ended this with me, than to have to go through something as awful as it was, again, but with me in the role of her ex.
... Yeah.. This might really be reaching, but I have to construct a narrative somehow. I don't have one. I really don't have the understanding of why she did what she did. And so, this seems to be the best explanation I can come up with.
She didn't want history to repeat itself.
Okay, so that's one part of the puzzle that might be solved. But that can't be the only reason, is it?
I don't know. This is all I've got for now. She wanted me for my sense of humor. She sent me the message first, saying how much she loved my profile.
And from the time my father passed away, until the next month when we broke up; it just seemed to coincide so well, with explaining why I may have started taking her for granted. Or appearing as if I was.
Boy.. This is dumb stuff to write and think about. Yeah, I want her back, but if its my humor, or the lightness of my character that she was most attracted towards; then how can I express that side of myself again to her, in order for her to consider taking me back?
And, why should I beg? Other than for her to understand correctly, how I came to be, before passing cruel judgement on my person. During that month I was terribly stressed, and I was not the man that I most wanted to be. I go through hard times while working, and its a struggle to keep my smile sometimes. I feel so beaten and.. feeling so helpless in being forced to work at doing what I do. I just don't have any other options at the moment that I truly believe in. Even if I could write the entire novel I've been wanting to do for years; I still can't guarantee it will be any good. At least, good enough for a publisher to take notice of and a public following that will reward it's debut. If it even can be marketed correctly to take off and land among a bestseller list someplace. And then, that slow sporadic and uncertain growth towards profitability; with the smallest chance of making multiple times the amount of money and time invested into the book itself.
It's such a scary hill to climb. Assuming I can finish this novel.
(sighs)
Well, back to thinking again about what to do. I had thought about appealing to her sense of humor, by leaving a carved girl pumpkin with a pink bow in her "hair"; and then two mini-watermelon carvings of grinning young boys, at her door. Amusing her kids and herself when they see it.
(groans) ... I can't do that. Such a dumb idea. It's not going to win her back. No way in hell.
Sense of humor? Thoughtfulness? Sure.. I guess. If you're psycho. That is what I'm going to be thought of, if I go through with the idea.
Same deal with the scarecrows. Can't do it.
Christmas gift is so iffy, right now. I don't know if I'll mail her anything, but I'm thinking of it. Something small, or meaningful, that she would enjoy sharing with her kids.
First thought in my mind, was the star projector; but that's not child-friendly.
Again.. Any kind of gift, is not going to win her back.
An email? Probably not. No matter how well-written and honest it is.
Gifts, emails, scarecrows, pumpkins... All are ideas that have to be turfed.
Not many options left.
Text her again? I don't think she'll respond.
Won't pick up the phone, either.
And.. That leaves one final idea. But something tells me, I probably won't go through with it.
I'm not going to say what it is, because of how cheesy it sounds. Except I think that cheesiness could work in my favor.
But then again, even if I go through with, and let's assume that she does want me back; then what? Will I be able to make her feel differently about me? Will she be able to fall back into infatuation with me? Possibly in love?
What would compel her to take the risk?
See.. productive thinking. I'm really putting myself into her shoes, to try and make sense of all this. It's tough. Especially picturing a female psyche, and considering their differing and sometimes wildly surprising perspectives.
End result of all this? I'm.. not sure yet. But James Allen gave me a bit of food for thought, as I randomly flipped through the book before leaving for work yesterday; and found his five principles to live by.
The five principles were,
1) Honesty
2) Economy
3) Liberality
4) Duty
5) Self-Control
These are all that a man must exemplify, should he wish to max out the potential of his spiritual being and capability in this world. To live a life that is worth living. That is respectable. Authentic. Admirable. Magical. Inspirational.
I had to read up a little on James Allen, and he was a real interesting guy. For most of his life, he worked as a secretary until the age of 38, when he and his wife officially "retired" from employment at a quiet cottage by the sea (or ocean, can't remember). James would spend his days going by a routine like this,
Upon awakening, he would take an hour-long walk in the hills and spend time in meditation. Then, he would return home and write which he considered only the tested and truest methods were to be; for he would practice what he attempted to preach. And validate on his own, the worth of his writings.
Honorable and pragmatic fellow for sure, from what I can tell. It must be nice retiring at the age of 38 and spending time writing, meditating, gardening and hanging out with friends having deep conversations and living life by a theoretical framework that you are continuously improving upon.
It was almost like, he made himself a job. A job where he was tasked with becoming the purest form of character imaginable. The most beneficial form. The most positive, and good of what a human being ca be. He would use himself as a guinea pig, to try his methods out on.
Sounded like a good person to me. Heck, James Allen was a GOOD man. There is no doubt about it. I haven't come across anything that contradicts this observation.
So, Allen was a good man. But, he didn't make much money off of his writings. He and his wife, were probably scraping to get by. Who knows? But then again, Allen was into asceticism, and living well beneath his means. Also a respectable quality, given today's obsession with acquiring material possessions.
Still though, he had a wife. He had support; and had someone to love, and be loved by.
Just having that kind of person in your life, makes a world of a difference in how you perceive things and what you most value having.
Because, you've already found what you most want to have, Mr. Allen. Love. You had it. I don't.
And your teachings suggest that riches will be mine, should I follow the rules; yet, you could not follow such ideas yourself, and become rich when you never were. Could you? Were you really interested in practicing aestheticism? Or was it a smokescreen for not ever having made much money from the effort of writing 19 books? "I didn't want to make money, I choose poverty." is kind of hard for me to believe, even though I know nothing of how much money Allen actually had, that he could retire at the age of 38. Was his wife rich?
So these thoughts are what make me go, "hmm" at his work, and take it with a skeptical, but curious eye. I'm open to suggestion, and being cautious until I'm absolutely sure I can commit to the philosophy he espouses. This isn't the first self-help book I'd ever read. There's a long list of them.
But Allen had love, don't forget. Even poverty is preferable than to live a life of loneliness and without love. Or even the vaguest resemblance of it.
So.. Anyways. Those five principles were the side dishes to accompany me before thoughts of Gina, and the work I was doing; intruded. My night was mostly thinking about this stuff. Not even consciously, really.
Well, I'm tired. In bed, listening to music.
Grace Beneath The Pines by Glen Hansard going and I should stop by the pawn shop once I get up, to buy a pair of tighteners for work.
She liked me for my sense of humor.
I can't write her a funny letter.
I can't do anything.
Other than wait.
And think.
And listen for marching orders from my heart.
And feel like an idiot wasting his time; or enjoying, the anticipation of having his faith rewarded. Never really knowing which.
Bleh. I'm such a clown for acting like this.
Hmm.
The clown with the upside-down frown.
