What a strange evening. After I posted the blog entry yesterday, I had this urge to start writing my next chapter, but couldn't get past 1,800 words due to my having to leave for work.
It's a dark chapter, and an interesting one too, since it is now introducing more supernatural elements into the equation. The dark part of it is, that Jake gets injected with a drug of some kind that induces hallucinations. But are they hallucinations? Dun, dun dunnnnn!!!
In bed, coughing, but relieved because for some inexplicable reason, our crew is getting tomorrow night off. Then another crew gets Wednesday off. Don't ask me why, but I won't be complaining about it.
And the strange evening. Well, first part of it had to do with suddenly writing a new chapter and the second part has to do with when I walked around the refinery. I just went down the same hallway, underneath the piperack, like I've done dozens upon dozens of times already, and.. I just had this conviction that I really don't belong here. Everything seemed so.. strange. Like I was intruding upon someplace I should not be. I can't really explain it, and the sensation passed eventually, but.. yeah.
And then Doug, the older fellow who sits across from me, decides to tell me about how civil war is going to erupt in the States after the election. And how it's not going to be "good" and.. well, there was a lot of negativity coming from him, that I could only shrug and say, "we'll see.. who knows?" and that I think Clinton will end up winning anyways. He's against Trump big time, and I don't blame him. Personally, I'm against both, but what can you do?
I feel bad for the American people. I know I said after the results of America's Got Talent that America deserves these two candidates, but that was just me letting off my frustration. Nobody deserves to have these two clowns for President. But again.. Maybe anger will set in, and better candidates will appear for the next election. I don't know. But.. the complacency.. That's a real thing to be worrying about. Everybody says they care, but no one is really doing anything about it. There doesn't seem to be any young, bright and idealistic minds going into politics with the intention of bettering the system; but what do I know? Maybe there are. And maybe a good and morally righteous individual can exist comfortably inside of a corrupted system without becoming corrupt themselves.
The best way to change anything that you are angry about, is from within. If politics is a thing that pushes your buttons; then get involved in politics. If the Catholic church is something that grinds your gears, then get in there as well. Propagate a viewpoint that is able to inspire change, and do it silently, covertly, and bit by bit, change will appear.
For instance, I work at a refinery. Let's say I'm disgusted at the inefficiencies going on there. I could easily keep track of them, compile up a detailed report, and submit it to the right persons in power. Could do it anonymously, even. And if there's no action being taken on my concerns, then I will simply have to find a way to move myself up the ladder, so that I can be the one who implements these changes.
Same thing applies to any system. Whether it's a business, corporation, institution.. All things are best changed from within. Look at Greenpeace for example, they aren't taking the smart approach by infiltrating the areas that affords them the best possible chance of success in realizing their agendas. Oh, sure, they'll infiltrate, like they did a few years ago at the refinery here; chaining themselves to a vessel and refusing to leave. Yeah.. that's not good publicity. It's a lazy form of marketing themselves.
Anyways.. Gina... Got to mention her, sorry. Yeah.. I.. still think of her. When the weather is bad, I imagine her having migraines, like she usually does. At a certain time of the day when I'm thinking about her, I have an idea of what she would be doing at that moment. 4pm is her finishing up at work. 5pm is her driving home with the kids. 6pm is them having dinner. 7pm is bath time. 8pm is sleep. 9pm is her alone, watching something on tv or doing chores. 530am is her getting up.
All hours of the day, I know where she likely is and what she's doing.
Sort of.
I don't mean to be creepy about it. It just the way it is. I pay attention to details like that, and I like being able to imagine her with some degree of accuracy.
(sighs) .. such a loser, aren't I?
Can't win her back... I don't see how it would be possible. And I keep saying this over and over, and yet I'm.. open to being surprised. Maybe there will be a way to win her back, but I haven't figured that out yet.
Then again, that voice.. "let her go..." or those feelings, rather...
So..
I don't know.
I've.. I can't.. quite give up. But I'm feeling the pressure to do just that.
Just let her slip away into the stream of memories, blurring themselves out of my mind the longer time marches on.
That smile of hers and that wave, when we first met.
Showing up at my door with coffee and Nutella cookies.
Lazy Man Peach Cobbler and her incredible roast beef.
Those asparaguses with melted butter.
The soft little buns she served.
The lingerie she wore, black, and the other one which was satin and gray with an odd split down the middle.
Her telling me (in regards to lingerie) that she'd always wear it, if I'd want her to.
Her reluctance in taking risqué photos of herself to send to me. And my silent pleasure in knowing that she would never do it, unless I did something amazing for her.
Her being at my father's funeral. And.. (sighs) my not coming over to her place after it was done, because.. I ..
Wanted to be alone. Not with her. But alone. And..
(sighs) .. I wish I just went to her house afterwards. But I remember feeling overwhelmed at the time. I didn't want to have sex. I was feeling burnt out by how affectionate she was.
She was affectionate. Sweet. Kind. Thoughtful.
Beautiful.
Special. I described her as "special" to my mother, in the most endearing way possible, and after meeting her, my mom agreed.
Gina was and is, special.
I suppose I could call myself that as well. But.. It's.. it might not be the good kind of special. I don't know. I'm a mess. I'm not.. healed.. whole.. yet. I keep trying to learn from my mistakes, and.. it really depends on how much of those mistakes I remember to keep myself from making. And to not take anyone for granted.
But.. (sighs) .. again.. I can't apologize for who I was at the time with her. I can only be me. And that's the way it all went, so there's no going back and being regretful and wishing to have done anything differently.
Anyways.. I knew I was going to talk about her.. and.. well, yesterday, I did cry a little when I started thinking about us. Except this time, the tears never left my eyes. So.. there's that. Just wet, blubbery eyes with two glistening tears stuck in the corner of my eyelids.
That's progress, I suppose.
She must think I'm completely crazy, now that I look back on the email and the text I last sent and the texts I sent during the time we broke up.
I.. can't help being a complete weirdo. My emotions are on the surface. I over-react when I don't mean to. I can't seem to play it cool when it matters most. Whenever there's something on the line, I.. seem to botch it up by being emotional and not rational, like I should be.
The rational, cool side of me would've just shrugged and moved on after being broken up with.
But the emotional side..
Yeah.. this blog is a testament to how emotional I can get. Sometimes I like being emotional. I like being in touch with my feelings and figuring out how they all work.
But, sometimes.. I feel.. depleted. And.. I knew this streak wasn't going to last. The changes she inspired to me, are everlasting, but they aren't nearly as prominent now as they were a month ago. I fully blame working full-time for that. Not enough time to really reflect on myself and to keep on top of things.
I love who I am, but.. the best part of who I am seems to only come out when I'm unemployed. Or.. whenever I'm making progress on something I enjoy doing. Such as the novel.
Or.. when I want to impress someone. Then, my best self comes out with twirling batons and trumpet fanfare with confetti streaming down from the sky.
But, when I'm miserable.. I'm miserable. When I'm sad, even if I pretend not to be, it just doesn't.. convince anyone.
I.. have to find happiness somehow. Again, I think it's tied to relationships, but I also think it's tied to progress.. of some kind. Some sort of goal, that I strive towards. I can never figure out what the "goal" actually is, but it seems to vary. Sometimes it'll be a good chapter I'd write for the novel; other times, it can mean cooking something delicious from a new recipe. Other times, it can mean making someone smile or laugh.
I still remember making this one baby smile, at my mom's house. She had a friend over, who just had a newborn daughter, and was showing her off. The kid was.. cute, I suppose, but it had this very neutral expression on its face. It didn't react to anyone else trying to make it smile, but it reacted to me.
I remember hunching down, with a wide smile of my own, and giving the baby a gentle squeeze of its tiny hands and.. it just smiled at me. This fleeting smile that lasted all of two seconds, maybe. Enough for everyone to notice, though, and.. looking into its eyes, I felt.. like I was looking into God, if that makes any sense. The purest essence of humanity. Unblemished. Innocent. Just this.. knowing that sort of passed between us, as if the baby knew who I really was, and I knew the same of her and we shared a brief inside joke of some kind.
And now, my laptop just beeped at me, warning me that I've got 4% battery life left.
So.. with that, I wish you a fond farewell. My non-existent reader.
(sighs) ...
Someday, things will be different.
Under the milky way tonight.
