From Dusk 'till Dawn

Quick update, don't have a lot of time here.

Yesterday had Justin texting me with,

"I need to see you before Halloween"

Which immediately made me think he was up to something. So, he recommended this new chicken place for us to go to (Nandos - awesome) and I brought along a mask, thinking that he would be bringing along something of his own to show off.

How wrong I was. Instead, he actually got me this.

An animated skeleton with a blue baseball cap that plays the banjo! How cool is that?

I'd take a video, but then I would have to charge my non-existant readers for admission because of how campy this thing is. Nice clear banjo music, and the skeleton hand moves along with the notes. Really awesome gift. Now I'm going to have to step up the Christmas gift that I plan on getting him.

That done, I had to rush to work immediately after we ate, and arrived at the refinery to this.

A horrible, wretched fog that made it impossible to see past twenty feet. I was actually unsure about where I was going a few times, until of course, I enlisted the help of The Force (tm) and managed to keep myself from driving into a ditch, or crashing into a farmer's field.

The night went by quick. Twelve hour shift, but wow. I still felt energized at the end of it. Sure, I was still hacking up glorious mucus and blowing my nose, but it was a really easy go of it for some reason.

Had an electrician ask me what the oldest trade was, and I immediately said "prostitution", he said no, it was an electrician.

"An electrician? No way." I replied, not really sure where he was going with this.

"Yes. Because when God first said, 'let there be light' he made an electrician to go flip the switch."

Heh. I haven't heard a religious joke like that in a while. And even more surprising since it was at work, where most guys have jokes like these:

"What's the best thing about 28 year olds?"

"What?"

"There's 20 of them."

Heh x2. 

So, all said and done. Pretty good night. After the twelve hours, I went home to a pretty looking skyline.

Showered, and went to bed. Later today, I got a text from Tracey who was the girl I met in Jasper saying that she was going to be in the city for the next few days. I offered to take her out for dinner and it looks like I'm going to be working a ten-hour shift tonight so as to make time for her.

Still miss my baby doll, though. I thought last night about how much of a lousy job I did with impressing her while we were together. Particularly this one time when she wasn't feeling well, and I offered to make her a light supper. It was gluten-free pizza and tomato soup and it was blah. So uninspired and meh, that I ended up apologizing afterwards to her. And I felt especially regretful, given that I'm a good cook when I want to be, and have not really tried to impress Gina with anything of what I can do.

I really wish I had made her my spaghetti and 3-meat meatballs. Or my blackened chicken. Or Wonton soup, although she doesn't like boiled dumplings.

(sighs)

I really wish she could've seen how my bedroom now looks. Or shared with me the same moment I shared with Gyngie.

But.. It didn't happen.

And now I'm seriously considering mailing her an anonymous Christmas gift. I haven't decided yet what it would be, but I'm going to make it a good one. Something personalized, I think.

Lastly, I have also decided on printing out a completed book based on the "Goblin Under My Bed" but I need to find an illustrator who would want to contribute. So far, Justin has suggested a friend of his who might be interested, so we'll see.

Here's my boy modeling the mask that I brought over with me that day.

Very cool. Well.. off to work I go...

Hi-ho, hi-ho.

A Posthumous Proportion of Perfect Prose

Funny thing. Just after I wrote up the last post, I decided to grab my copy of the Gnostic Gospels and randomly flip through it.

Found this line here:

"Good for one who comes to himself and awakens. And blessed is one who has opened the eyes of the blind."

And this one, too.

"Speak from the heart, for you are the perfect day and within you dwells the light that does not fail. Speak of truth with those who seek it and of knowledge with those who have sinned in their error."

Perfect.

(slaps gum out of air)

Absolutely perfect.

We Come In Peace

Hello, my non-existant reader. Have I got tales to regal you with.

Well, heh. Not particularly! But.. I can make ordinary everyday events interesting, couldn't I?

Wait, don't answer that.

So, day off.. or, night off to be more precise and a few small things here and there are worth reporting on.

Started off by getting out of bed at 4pm, and then.. er, wasted the next hour and a half playing Star Wars Galaxies on my phone, which is only pushing me further into the idea of abandoning video games altogether (as if). But! I, uh.. hmm, I didn't level up a character. Actually, I don't think.. Oh wait, I got enough shards to make Greedo a 7 star character. So he's maxed out. Impressive, huh?

Yeah, no it isn't. Video games.. Sheesh. I feel like going on a rant here about how "back in my day" they didn't rape people with micro-transactions and false pre-release hype/marketing, and more sequels and less original properties and more CG cut scenes, and less content (you can pay for the complete game later!).. and games are like 130 bucks now, if you want the "deluxe" edition, which basically should be the full game, and then these massive bug patches that you have to download gigs of, and.. oh, fine. I'll stop here.

Anyways, got showered up, wore my "let's hug it out" tshirt with the silhouette of a bear on the front. Filled up with gas at Safeway, got smokes and drove on over to Whyte Ave, where I was supposed to meet at Gyngie's place because she wanted some pot.

So, on the way, I passed by Raggazzi's which is Gina's favorite pizza place and had a brief flashback to us being in the parking lot, hanging out and hugging and being flirtatious. I remembered the waitress and how Gina excitedly told her we were going to be seeing Elvis that evening (impersonator, obviously). And, uh.. yeah.. kept driving. Parked near Gynger's place and she seemed to be in scramble mode when I texted her that I was nearby.

"Fuck! Hopping in the shower now!" She wrote back.

I told her to take her time, as I was going to get some food and decided to step into Chapters, where I came across an interesting book of poetry all about lost and unrequited love. Flipping through the pages had me nodding at some of the things "R.H. Sin" was writing about. Here is the cover:

And an excerpt:

I thought I'd buy this book, but believe it or not, it was over 30 bucks. For less than.. I don't know, fifty pages? Of double space and pages like the one above, with less than twenty words? Nope. No thanks. As much I would appreciate a book like this, I don't want to have to read it knowing how much the author raped my wallet for the privilege of doing so.

Anyways, yeah that excerpt hit home for me. A few others did as well, and I've already got this on my Amazon wish list for whenever the price will go down. Twenty bucks is my max for something this light on content. Despite how powerful said content is.

Like video games, remember.

So.. I did actually buy something from Chapters, and it wasn't a book. I love browsing the random gifts they have scattered about, and as always, I'm a sucker for aged/distressed wood; so this coffin box of Jenga blocks made my heart skip a beat.

Sadly, Gyngie didn't want to play it with me (coughcoughmenstrualcrampscough) so I had to enlist Domo Kun to help me with it later when I got home. Yes, I know he's a finger puppet. And yes, playing with him is incredibly unfun.

So.. Left Chapters and was in the process of sending Gyngie a text telling her I'm just a few minutes away; when out of the corner of my eye came two well-dressed young men, with big beaming smiles on their faces.

It took me all of a second and a half to register who they were.

MORMONS!!!!!

Immediately, before they could get a word in, I told them they wouldn't want to talk with me and that I get into arguments all the time with Jehovah's Witnesses/Mormons, etc. They didn't mind, of course, and both decided to shake my hand anyways. Good, confident squeezes too. I was immediately appreciative of how well they pressed palms. Guess that sort of thing comes with a lot of practice.

I asked them a few questions about Mormonism, told them I read a bit of it, and that I respect what they do and that I was spiritual myself, etc. They were really friendly, and didn't try to promote any sort of agenda on me, probably because they sensed that I've been approached enough times by people of their ilk.

The interesting thing about life, is that we sometimes come across people that make a difference to us. Even if they are complete strangers, we find inspiration whenever a pretty woman smiles at us, or whenever a handsome man holds the door open, or.. Someone pays for your coffee as you approach the drive-through window at Tim Hortons. There's all kinds of ways that we can change other people by effortless means, should we harbor the thought of goodwill and compassion whenever such opportunities present themselves.

So, in this particular case, I was the teacher, I think, in these two young kids lives. It wasn't a long conversation, but I told them both that one thing I know for sure, is that they won't be finding 'Truth" within the book of Mormon. Or any one religion. I told them to look into Buddhism, Daoism, Sufism,  and Dhalism, who is a pretty cool character to play as in Street Fighter (he wasn't actually mentioned).

They seemed interested in what I was saying, as one of them asked me what book would I recommend most out of all the ones I've read, and it didn't take much thinking on my part to come up with the answer.

The Gnostic Gospels.

Brief rundown on these gospels. They are basically remnants of what did NOT make it into the Bible. They are primal and raw. Like first-draft "what the hell was I thinking?" raw. Some of it is very hard reading, and I don't pretend to understand it all myself, but the Gnostic Gospels are certainly compelling scripture/literature should anyone take the time to peruse it.

This is the version that I have. From the Folio Society, which I luckily stumbled across in an antique store a few years ago. It's a beautiful book.

Link

Would've recommended this too, but the one was enough. https://www.amazon.ca/Buddha-His-Teachings-Samuel-Bercholz/dp/1570629609

So, I gave them the recommendation, expressed my admiration for the passion they had and ducked out, since I was already running late. They again shook my hand, and gave big smiles as I went off to pick up a donair. Really nice guys. Although I have grave doubts that "Gabriel" actually told Joe Smith to write the darn book of Mormon. I'm pretty sure it was his own idea, and I have a good sense of why he did it too, given where he was at the time and what he was dealing with. Still impressive how he managed to come up with all that though. Same with Muhammed and the Koran.

Picked up my donair, complimented the owner on how nice his place was (little things like that matter) and went over to see Gyngie.

First off.. Hoo boy.

Well, I already knew she wasn't well, she complained about being on her period and suffering from cramps, but.. looking at her wall, I could see..

Fruitflies. Dozens of them.

In the past, I objected about seeing these things. Telling her not to leave standing water or food laying around (which she still does, anyways) and now they migrated from her kitchen to the living room, sticking themselves onto the pictures she had on the wall.

Imagine seeing six or seven fruitflies crawling over a framed photograph of your sixteen year old daughter. It was .. deplorable. Sickening.

So, I told her that. Why aren't you doing something about it?

(sighs) .. She got upset, as usual, claiming there's "nothing" she could do about the fruit flies swarming around her apartment.

I reminded her again about the standing water/food and then said she should've mentioned it to me earlier, as I would've brought over a fly ribbon for her to have. But..

"Do you always find something to criticize?" she rhetorically asks. As if I was making an unwarranted complaint.

"No," I responded, scanning the mess of her apartment. "But I'll let you know the second I find something."

(sighs) she's.. not in a good place. Gyngie is completely broke and is almost out of food. She may or may not get her disability check next month. She's already fighting to try and get an extension. It may or may not happen. And she may or may not have to get a job.

I'm depressed just thinking about her. She.. she's comfortable with her situation it seems. She hasn't worked in two years. She's obese. She's lonely. She's.. a dreamer, a romantic like me and she's..

Well, she's capable of doing so much more with herself. If only she would try, and have faith in her ability to do so.

I mean.. she was living with those fruit flies for months. She's made peace with them. She's basically given up that bit of dignity in having a place devoid of a bunch of flying black dots.

And she's been making me feel like a douche for bringing it up whenever I come by.

Am I seriously supposed to ignore bugs going around all over the place? A dirty carpet? Dirty walls? Dirty curtains? Dirty.. everything, basically?

Because it's all "criticism" according to her, whenever I bring these things up. And I don't do it in a mean-spirited way, but there really is no tactful way of expressing my disappointment in her not caring about such a very basic standard of cleanliness. I can overlook a lot of things, but once you get bugs flying around and maggots crawling through the carpet, maybe you deserve a little flak for having let things get so far out of hand that you feel too "overwhelmed" and lazy that the thought of correcting or cleaning any of these things, is easily ignored in favor of playing video games and watching YouTube videos all day. That's when she's not sleeping at all odd hours of the day/night.

Yeah, I know she's a mess, and that's the thing with me. Whenever I come across people like her, I feel this compulsion to help them somehow. Not financially, but with advice. And I'm not able to do much of anything with Gyngie. Nothing I've ever said or suggested or made an example of (ie. my own clean home) has really stuck with her. Or maybe it has, and change has been coming gradually, but I honestly don't see how I can convince her that having fruit flies in a house is "bad" and that she should do something about it. She should already feel disgusted enough.

And that's the thing. She is so far at the bottom, that she's comfortable there. She has no inclination to really pull herself up. I mean, yes, she does go swimming sometimes, and yes, she is on a diet at the moment, trying to lose weight; but I've known her for two years now, and what I see of her now, is almost exactly the same as I've seen back then.

Small attempts at change, and then being discouraged at the results.

It's a tough problem to solve, I admit. I tried explaining to her how I became concerned with keeping a clean home (thanks Gina), but I didn't tell her about how her breaking up with me was what kicked things off. I told her it started with my making the bed in the morning. No matter what else was there to clean or do, I only had to make sure that the bed was made. That was it. And the psychological lift it gave me as I entered my bedroom to see a nicely made bed; eventually extended out to other areas. And it then reached the point where it would only take me a quick ten-minute tidy (thanks again Gina) to get my place in a condition well enough to receive visitors with.

But.. it's such a challenge to try and impress change onto people. And that's the thing. I've tried a lot of approaches, and when the desire to change does not exist in the individual; no matter how good the advice is, they will never act on it if they don't want to.

And that's the part I need to accept. That some people don't want to change. They don't want to better themselves, and they would rather play the victim instead of take responsibility for their actions. I know I've been guilty of this in the past, but I do try and take responsibility by learning from my mistakes and trying to keep from repeating them.

Still though, I find it challenging as well. Trying to keep from repeating my mistakes.

Tonight was a good example of that. Last time I saw Gyngie, it was magical how I just "clicked" with her and thought I had it all figured out as to how I should be with women.

And then tonight.. Well, that thought did enter my mind, about how to be, but another urge made itself known and that is my neediness. My need for affection.

I'm pretty embarrassed by it. I want to hold hands. I want to kiss. Hug. Make someone smile. But.. I don't want to do it with someone that I don't actually have romantic feelings for. And yet, that is what I did with Gyngie the last time we were together, and tonight.. while we didn't kiss or have sex or anything like that; I did hold her hand, and gave her a hand massage, and..

I don't know.. I felt like an idiot. I felt emasculated. I don't feel that "way" with her.. and.. it felt like I was betraying my soul. I mean.. I liked holding her hand and giving her a hand massage.. but.. it didn't feel right. It felt like it was more for my benefit than it was for hers.

Felt like my insecurity was coming out, and that's the part that bothers me. The need for attention/affection/admiration overwhelmed the need for me to stay true to myself. And I have to make sure I keep myself reminded of this in the future. But.. it's tough. There's following my heart, and there's following logic and then there's my ego, which messes everything up and complicates things even further.

My ego can really get the best of me sometimes. It's like if I met someone on the street who REALLY wants to know what 2+2 is and doesn't have a calculator or way of figuring it out (hypothetical, stay with me) and then I come along, hear about this person's problem and tell him/her that the answer is 4. But instead of being grateful, they turn their noses up and go, "hmph! that can't be right!" and walk away.

That's how I feel with Gyngie. I take it personally, or my ego does, whenever she glosses over what I consider to be good advice/suggestions for improvement.

And.. it's basically a form of rejection on her part. The implication being that my advice doesn't apply, or that it's not practical or useful to consider.

So.. my ego, my pride takes a hit, and like a drug.. I keep coming back to try again. With new advice. New ideas.

Same thing like with my cousin Marek. Living with his dad in the basement. Haven't had a girlfriend or job in years. Just never really put the effort in, and it was the reason why I stopped hanging out with him.

People like that exist out there. People that shun the world. People that don't feel the need to challenge themselves, or to grow, or to become what they most want to be and realize their dreams.

And I take it extra-personally, because I struggle myself sometimes, in trying to do the right thing. But I am trying. I made a point to tell Gyngie that even if it takes 20 years to get my novel written, then it will take 20 years, but I have to keep trying at it. And keep faith in what I'm doing.

Same thing she has to do.

The struggle is what defines us, I think. Not the achievement. Yeah sure, I mean a published book or breaking a world record is going to define you, but that's superficial in a way. It's not who you actually are. It's how you are perceived, and that's a big difference to know about.

Just ask any famous celebrity who has to deal with reconciling their public image and who they actually are. Their neighbors might know. As would close friends and family.

So, I have the strong belief that although Gyngie keeps telling me about how she wants to write, and how she has an English degree, and how much her professor loved her writing; she is talking about doing these things more so for validation from others, rather than for herself. To be "perceived" as worthwhile, than to actually be worthwhile.

Kind of a complex subject, and I'm tired, so I don't feel like thinking too much about it right now.

So.. that's pretty much the night. Came home at 2am, cleaned up a bit, listened to a podcast and fired up the laptop to post this entry.

The little changes. The small things we try and do, affects all of us.

Except for certain people.

(sighs)

It's the struggle that defines us.

And there is challenge is finding contentment within yourself, despite not having accomplished anything of merit.

But.. nothing worth having is ever free, and..

Boy.. am I tired..

And I'm rambling.. I could probably go on and on until I pass out from exhaustion.

It's the little things.

Embrace them.

Share them.

Know them.

Stay true to yourself.

Not to your ego.

And always keep trying.

That about sums it up.

Under The Milky Way Tonight

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.

Going Home

Ever wake up in bed with the feeling that something important has happened, but you have no idea what it is?

That's what I got this morning, and I can hardly remember the dreams I was having. Just brief snatches of memory. Three of them, actually, each having nothing to do with the other.

First one, involved Gina, making it the third day in a row I dreamed of her. In this brief flash, I recall us being face to face, and my saying something along the lines of, "I can do whatever I want" and then kissing her neck and her lips while she looked on me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Next up, was a dream of me in my bedroom. Or a bedroom, since I don't think it completely resembled the actual one I have. In this flash, I remember looking at the bed and the surrounding objects and noticing a kind of "jitter" around everything. My immediate instinct, was that there was some kind of psychic energy being manifested in the room. Causing things to "shudder". When I had this thought, I was then.. and this part is hard to recall correctly -- I was then contacted by some form of intelligence that may have arrived in the form of a round floating ball. I don't remember what it said, but I do remember that instead of reacting towards it with fear, like I probably normally would; in the dream, I accepted whatever it was. Imagine seeing something scary, but instead of running or being afraid, you stand up towards it and you try to understand what it is, and what it might want. That's dream #2.

Last one was of my neighbors. In the dream, I could hear and then see one of their cars driving across my back lawn. Since in real-life they do park in the backyard, I didn't consider this as anything exceptional in the dream. Except, they were moving out, and a moving truck arrived, also parking on the grass inbetween our houses. I remember going out there and looking annoyed and wondering why the screen of my basement window was torn off. The white guys who were in the moving van, gave me a sheepish look for whatever reason or another.

That's it for the dreams. And I also woke up with the urge to listen to "Going Home" by Sam Cooke.

Here are the lyrics:

goin' home
goin' home
I'm a going on
quiet like some still day
I'm just going home

It's not far
It's just close by
through an open door
work all done
care laid by
going to fear no more

mother's there
expecting me
father's waiting too
lot's of folk
gathered there
all the friends I knew
all the friends I knew

nothing loss of days
no more fret or pain
no more stumblin on the way
no more longing for the day
going to roam no more

that morning star lights the way
restless dream all done
shadows gone
break off day
my real life just began
I'm a going home
I'm a going home
I'm a going home

Strange stuff, huh?

For someone who thinks alot about the inner processes like I do, I still am somewhat stumped on what the purpose of dreaming is supposed to be. For a long while, I thought of dreaming as a way of "defragging" your hard drive (mind) in order to better optimize information. It still seems like a reasonable hypotheses, but there are times when I question this theory of mine, because every so often I get data that doesn't seem to fall in line with the idea.

One thing I'm mindful of while dreaming, is to spot triggers. I call them transition-triggers. What they are, are the moments inbetween one dream and the next. Where you can dream of one particular thing, and then suddenly a new dream appears where you dream of something else. 

What causes the transition? What triggers it? Because of how often dreams seem to roll along on a narrative, it's interesting to wonder what breaks or completes the current dream and creates a new one. Did the narrative finish? Or is the theme ongoing? Is there a coherent theme or message being expressed, or is it all simply random?

That's the thing though, I don't believe in randomness when it comes to dreaming. I feel like each of the elements that a person dreams about, has some significance worth thinking about. Sure, I have had dreams where it seemed like absolute nonsense with no rhyme or reason; but there are times when a dream is so coherent and stabilized, that I wonder what the purpose is for it.

So.. yeah. It felt like something important happened to me while sleeping, but I have no idea what it is. Even listing the brief bits I remember, it doesn't ring any bells for me.

If I had to break it down, the first dream is a wish-fulfillment fantasy. Second was.. alien or spiritual contact. Third, was an expression of annoyance towards my neighbors intruding upon my property.

So.. Gina, aliens and trespassing.

There's no link between any of those. And waking up with "Going Home" running through my mind.. well, I haven't a clue...

One time I remembered having three dreams that occurred in perfect sequence. Smooth transitions, and fairly logical ones too. It ended with me turning my back on this beautiful looking naked gal (with a hooded face), in favor of my wife.. who was this brunette. And my child. Who was a boy.

Eventually the hooded-face gal revealed what was underneath, and it was terrifying. She looked reptilian. And to me, this signified the triumph of the spirit over the flesh. In that sense that I overcame temptation, and instead choose my family. Love over lust. 

So... It's interesting to think about. And that sensation of something important having happened to me; well, I haven't a clue, and its still lingering as I type this.

Got to get ready for work today. (sighs) coughed up some phlegm almost immediately after getting up and now it's faux Neo-Citrin time.

Muscles are sore, still feeling a little tired despite how much sleep I got. But I have to go to work. I'm already ashamed of having missed two days and explaining it to anyone who asks, is going to be a bit of a challenge. "I was tired and weak and sore" doesn't really cut it. Even though it's the truth.

Oh well. I just hope it won't be a big deal when I get there. Some people do get jealous at others who take time off. Calling them "part-timers". It's a strange phenomenon, where people feel the need to point out someone who has been absent for a day or two, and kind of diminish them in front of everyone else. I suppose some people feel the need to reinforce what they consider to be "unacceptable" behavior. Or behavior that conflicts with their own sense of right and wrong.

Whatever. Not my problem what other people think. I know I wasn't well enough to work on Saturday, and I'm still not great right now either. But I'm still going.

Two days off flew by. All I really remember of it is grocery shopping, watching those two movies, checking out the first episode of Duck Dynasty which I didn't care for, and playing Xcom; even though I had already finished it last week.

Felt like I wasted my time off. Didn't write anything. And now I know better than to go near video games. They're such time wasters. Gears of War 4 is out, and I toyed with the idea of picking it up, but decided against it. There's no time left for me to waste on such things. I don't want to trade one form of reality for another, and indulge in escapism. I want to be right here. With both feet on the ground. Making the most of the little amount of time I have left. That we all have left. Until the day we die.

There are better ways of spending that time, than to stare at a screen for hours on end.

All things in moderation.

Life is too short to waste.

The Ravager

Threw in the towel, took the night off of work. I was just too tired. Too itchy-eyed and weak. Coughing up mucus into the sink, feeling the weather outside and growing less enthused about the idea of having to work all night.

So, guess I couldn't pull Saturday off. And then there's Sunday, as well, so I'll be having two days off whether I like it or not.

And I like it. First order of business was to get to Safeway and buy a bunch of stuff. Vitamin-C chewables, a box of faux-Neo Citrin, some buns, pizza, a bag of brownie bark, coffee. Juice.

After getting the groceries all sorted out, I smoked a bowl and turned on the Xbox to see whats out there for movies to rent.

Didn't see anything too particularly amazing on their list of "new films", so I scrolled down a while before coming across this awesome little surprise...

"BOOOOOOYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"

Wow, what an amazing series. I had no idea Ravager existed, considering what a struggle it has been to get the last couple of Phantasms made. Didn't think they made another one.

Ravager is such a mind fuck of a film if you've followed the previous ones going into this. Who is the Tall Man? Where did he come from? What is the source of his power? What is his weakness?

Angus Scrimm, the actor portraying the Tall Man, really plays it straight without irony. Complete and pure evil menace exuding from every one of his pores. Why? That's for us fans to find out. Or should I say, phans?

I really enjoyed this one. It was terrifying at times once my brain started making the connections as to who the Tall Man really is. Hint: The greatest possible evil there is.

Or, maybe not. Maybe the Tall Man really is only a scientist who hops across multiple dimensions and reanimates the dead, and commands these silver spheres that drill into people's heads which then squirts out massive amounts of blood to comical effect.

Love, love this series. And though it billed itself as being the "final" confrontation between Reggie Banniser our hero, and the Tall Man himself, it really kind of fallen on it's face with that being said. They can't possibly do another Phantasm film. It's already almost 40 years old, using the same actors from the original, despite how much they've aged since then.

It's really a labour of love. A passionately made film, also by the same director of The Beastmaster, one of my favorite sword n' sorcery flicks of all time.

Don Coscarelli is the man. Although this one was directed by David Hartman, I thought he did a fantastic job with the atmospherics and music placement and some of the shots he captured.

So, as I was saying earlier, when I figured out who the Tall Man really was, I found myself fascinated by what was going on. Reggie Bannister, the protagonist, is this relentless cowboy in pursuit of the Tall Man, looking to rescue his friends and to destroy whatever stands in his way.

There was this great scene in a lit hallway, all white and inside of another dimension.

Wish I could find an image of it, but there's nothing on Google and that last picture I posted is from the scene, but doesn't show the wide-shot itself. Anyways, so in this scene Angus Scrimm confronts Reggie Bannister and asks him why. Why does he continue to be so relentless in his pursuit? Why was Reggie such a bad dream for the Tall Man? Why did the Tall Man offer Reggie the fulfillment of his wishes to have his family back, after the Tall Man had brutually murdered them?

Intense conversation, I thought. Moments like that are sorely appreciated to see on the silver screen. I love how deep questions are asked and deep answers are given, even if the film continues to be a tease about revealling some of the finer details about what the heck everything is actually supposed to mean. The plot is really all over the place across all five movies.

It's so Dark Tower. Where the gunslinger goes off on a journey to confront a powerful villain. Such a powerful archetype to pay homage towards.

And after all that, I went down the list to see what I would watch next and found this.

Starring this guy from Duck Dynasty, Phil Robertson.

Torchbearer is basically as opposite from Phantasm as it gets, it delves from darkness to lightness of being with how much it tries to preach the necessity of a society to be in honor of God, the great Creator, the Prime Mover.

And I agreed with him. His examples were on point. Ancient Rome fell because of Godlessness, history served as acceptable enough evidence to illustrate each of his ideas with. Such as how the French revolution was caused by Atheism and a populace that did not take well to the idea of having to abandon God, because this new Government says so.

Phil brought up Nazi Germany, and didn't think twice about depicting some of the horrors of that era on screen for us to see. Emancipated corpses. Gas chambers. Persecution of the Jews. Persecution of God, really.

Weird how impulsive I was in renting this, but I'm glad I did. It was good to hear such a rich and loving expression of Christianity, even if you toss aside all of the fallacies that most Atheists bring up about the Bible these days. I agree with some of the Atheists, as well.

Phil is a man with true faith, I'll give him that. I applaud him for having the courage to stand up for what he believes in. And he believes in noble truths, the same ones that I do.

So this was a good sort of documentary, or look into this man's psyche. I appreciate knowing people like him are out there. True believers. Unwilling to budge or bow to the pressure of abandoning their faith. No matter how persecuted they may be for it.

No matter what, always keep faith in something that is greater than man. For once man stops believing in God, he'll start to believe in anything. So says Phil Robinson more than a few times, in scenes here and there.

Another of his quotes, is that "he who has the biggest stick, determines the value of another man's life".

He's right. Given how hedonistic and materialistic our society has been getting, he does put forth a good case as to what a society should be aspiring towards. Should we go forward and leave God behind? No. God must always be at the forefront of our beliefs and given the respect He deserves.

I've never watched an episode of Duck Dynasty. Just not into the faux-reality tv series thing, and after watching this documentary, I may check out an episode to see if I'd like it or not. Despite how prevalent the merchandising and Duck Dynasty branding I've been seeing all over the place.

I'd rather not view Phil Robinson and his family as a "brand" that is using Christianity for their financial gain. I'd rather not know that Phil Robinson feels that homosexuality is a sin, and we should all believe that the miracles of Jesus actually happened.

I have my own thoughts on what actually happened. Having someone less or more educated than myself to tell me what I should believe in, would cause me to rebel. I can't completely swallow the Bible down as a fully accurate and believable account of God and Jesus, in each the Old and the New Testament.

Because I'm pretty sure a lot of it is wrong. Constantine did modify the original scrolls from where the Bible drew its stories from. Much of the miracles probably never happened, and were used as ways of inserting drama into places where it was needed and to give credence to the miraculous power of God and his son.

Sadly, this was over two thousand years ago when Christ last walked the earth, or so we would think.

If God truly wanted to fix the world, he would have delivered a messenger capable and courageous enough to be able to speak the truth of his heart, and his affection for a higher power.

And the usefulness of having one. Fictitious or not.

Which he apparently did, but that was two thousand years ago. It's time for us to be reminded.

Yep, so. Good movie night. I fell asleep for a couple of hours after that.

Had a dream about her again, too.

We were on the phone, and I said something to make her giggle. Her voice tinkled beautifully.

Then, we were face to face. Kissing. I kissed her neck, she moaned.

And.. that's pretty much it. Woke up for long enough to remind myself about this dream, and went back to sleep. Don't recall anything after this point.

Though it was a dream, it was so nice to see her in them. For two days in a row? That's magical. I remember my dream-self being extremely happy.

Sadly, my dream-self is over there and my real-self is here. Without her.

Oh well.

I can't imagine how to win her back. I won't accept any more stupid ideas. If my heart is going to one day ring alarm bells, and tell me to do something impulsive; I will take my sweet time with assessing whether or not this idea is worth pursuing. Because I don't think there any ideas out there for me to really execute on. I can't win her back. No matter what I do.

Right?

So.. I don't know now. What do I do? What should I be doing? How can I live my life? By which meaning? For what reason?

Yeah.. sounds like a mid-life crisis to me, too. We make light of the fact that these are crises, given how common they are, but it doesn't diminish the difficulty of surmounting obstacles as much as people would think. It does help to know that many others have struggled with the same questions, I suppose.

Anyways.. Yeah. In a warm bed with the lasers going, listening to Ben Howard on Gina's cd; and I'm loving it.

I feel so comfortable right now. So at ease.

I ate that entire bag of brownie bark.

(yawns) (stretches)

Time for more sleep.

Paradise Misplaced

Had a dream about her this morning as I got up, hitting that snooze button for the third time before I had to reluctantly pull myself out of bed.

We were in a library together, it was post-breakup, and for whatever reason or another, we were at the checkout counter and I could smell her, see the back of her neck, and she was bumping into me.

The tension, I tell you, was real. I wanted to lean in and kiss her, hold her.. but, I felt restrained too. As if I didn't want to breach that invisible wall between us.

Anyways, my phone wouldn't allow me to hit snooze a fourth time, so I had to tap out.

An interesting meeting occurred last night, while I was in the smoke pit.

Some guy that I've never seen before, started talking with me, and I was quite surprised by the conversation.

A few days earlier, I made mention about the octopus story, and how guys at work rarely speak of their partners in positive terms, so.. consider me surprised when this fellow, who was an older guy, possibly late 60s or early 70s, started telling me about a few things.

First off, it started with a conversation about pizza. My favorite food. He recommended I try "I Dream of Pizza" in Sherwood Park. "The crust.. is just STUPID!" and then he segues into talking about calamari, which then brought up the word "octopus" and how off the coast of a Spanish island (Mallorca) they have these amazing tasting octopuses. Not that I cared about eating them, but I thought it was interesting to hear someone use the word octopus, as I haven't heard it used in conversation in a long, long time. He could have said squid, but he didn't.

So far, a pizza place recommendation and then saying the word octopus. Those two things got my attention.

Next up, he started telling me about his wife. She's Portuguese and 12 years younger than he is.

"If you're single, marry a Portuguese woman." he tells me. And then goes on about how she keeps the house clean, and how there's always something on the stove, and how much of a hard worker she is and how she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

It was such a sweet, touching story. I had to ask how they met, and he met her while working at the Edmonton Inn, and that when his mom passed away and he had to quit the job; she called him up and they went out on a date. They've been married now for 28 years.

Pizza, octopus, and a suggestion that I pursue a Portuguese lady for myself. Hopefully one that is 12 years younger, which means she would be 26. Prime child-bearing age.

It's possible, I realized. If this gentleman can find happiness with a Portuguese woman 12 years his junior; so can I.

Heh. I know how gullible that sounds. But still, I was given hope.

Little coincidences...

Closed two of the three profiles I have.

Eharmony.

And OkCupid

Couldn't leave OkCupid without screenshotting a few of the messages Gina and I exchanged on there. I wish I could have selected them all and copied them; but the app wouldn't allow me to do that.

(sighs) Those messages..  she's still a sweetheart. I still .. wish things could have been different.

But, I really realize now that the breakup had to happen. I've said this twice before, and I'll say it again. It had to. It was the most natural and inevitable way of it all playing out. I wasn't ready for Gina, and I wasn't sure how to act around her. I wasn't sure if I could trust her. And I endured years of bad relationships and false hopes. I couldn't endure it again. I was too scared of being broken up with.

Again.

So.. there was no way for me to have suddenly shifted gears or learned what I have learned, had she not broken up with me. My home would probably still be messy. My porch might not have been painted. I wouldn't have decorated it like I did. I wouldn't have lost twenty pounds. I wouldn't have this renewal of faith in there being good people out there. There's a lot of positive changes that came from my being broken up with. And I can't be regretting any of them. I regret that I couldn't be myself with her, but I don't regret my conduct. My attitude and outlook at the time, was exactly as expected. In order for me to evolve; I needed to be broken up with.

So, no regrets. No being depressed about it. Just grateful. Hopeful.

And.. (sighs) work is beating the hell out of me. It's one thing to be sick and having to work all night, but it's another to have to forfeit my free time and commit myself fully to a job that I don't actually want to do.

For me, I don't find joy in insulating. I find it in people. Being with them. Talking with them. Insulating is just.. a way to pass the time, I guess.

And.. It's Saturday, overtime is optional.. and, I'm really.. contemplating staying home. I don't want to, and I shouldn't.. but...

(sighs) ..

(SIGHS)

I have no time. I need to do laundry. I'd like to take my empty bottles to the depot. I want to clean the bathrooms. Shovel my driveway. Lay in bed for a long nap. Write. Hang out with Gyngie. Visit my mom. Listen to a three hour long podcast. Clean my car. Pay off my speeding ticket. Organize/clean the office upstairs. Do some grocery shopping. Zone out with headphones on and lasers going.

But I have no time. It's been eat, sleep, wake up, work. And rinse/repeat.

(sighs)

I should suck it up, but at the same time.. I don't want to. I don't have anyone depending on me.

A fellow at work asked me if I was married or if I have kids, and when I told him no, he replied with,

"You're living in paradise!"

And.. I couldn't agree with that. I understood his point of view, but this is not paradise to me. Having to work at a job I don't enjoy, making money I don't really get to keep (going towards my debt), and.. it's not fun coming home to a quiet and lonely home. Having no one to kiss good morning to, or to snuggle up in bed with.

No one to do my grocery shopping or laundry while I work six days a week, 10 and 12 hours a shift.

No one to look after the dog I've always wanted to have. Or my kids.

Or kid.

(sighs)

This is not paradise.

This is paradise misplaced.

Also,

Winter has arrived.

All I need is a Direwolf.

Ramble On

Can't escape from her:

(Pizzelle)

and can't escape from him:

(Roger @ work)

So.. 12 hours in the bag. Another day down. It wasn't a bad night. Kind of chilly, still blowing snot into an overused wad of kleenex. Still coughing.

Meh. Meh! I tell yas.

I really should be spending more time on my novel and on the story, than this blog. But, the blog is cathartic. It's a good outlet to let my thoughts fly and allow them to build up over time, rather than dispersing into the ether from where they came.

Didn't get touched at work as much today. Kind of disappointed with that. Although I did (sensibly) chuckle (inwardly) when no more than five minutes after arriving, Mike gave me a shoulder pat and a "how U doin'?" but without the Joey voice. And I don't know why there's a U there. But that's how I rollz.

Almost peed myself filling up with gas this morning. It was a tough urge to fight off. I ended up yanking out the gas hose a few cents below the 30 bucks I pre-paid it on. Just couldn't keep myself from doing the pee-pee dance. Luckily, getting back into my car squished my bladder up and kept it under control.

And getting out of my driveway, had me talking with Mike next door, who finally confronted me about not going to his birthday party a while ago. "I was working!" I said, and told him I was coming from a 12 hour shift.

"You're still alive!" he declares. And then reminds me how awesome my whistling frog is by the door.

Meh. Meh!

Didn't think of her that much last night. Which I suppose, is good. Contemplated closing my POF account, but I couldn't figure out how to do it. No rush, no worries. But it's odd that as soon as I thought about doing it, I got three notifications of people wanting to meet me. Hmph.

Well.. off for a shower and then bed. Nothing exciting to report, really. Heavy snowfall on the way, which I'll be sleeping through.

Oh, and because Justin enjoyed using his covert Sake bottle / sex toy; I ordered one for myself too. It arrived a few days ago, and the box had some terrible English on it.

"Stimulated texture and integrated syructure of the vagina. people feel more like a real young woman."

(sighs) I confess, I tried it out twice, and then threw it in the garbage. How sad of a human being am I to resort to such things? Justin has a girlfriend, and yet he still needs a sex toy? Well.. I don't understand the appeal of it. For me, sex is more than just putting your penis inside of something. It's mental, emotional, spiritual bonding.. Isn't it? At least it's supposed to be, if you put procreation aside.

Reducing sex to a mechanistic impulse, is not what people should be doing. Myself, included, and I have been guilty of this in the past enough to know that its not for me.

I just don't get it. This sort of stuff reduces the craving for sex, sure. But it doesn't replace a live human being. I know it's not supposed to either, but still.. wouldn't it be better to allow the sexual impulse to work in your favor as a motivator? At least that's how I'm playing it. It's a real energy that can be harnessed and used for positive benefit. Sexual transmutation, baby. So, using stuff like that isn't..

Hmph. What do I know? I know that I've never paid for a hooker, and I can't get off on some silicon vagina in place of a real person. It's too depressing, either of those options. Paying someone a few hundred bucks for sex, or using these toys. Meh.

Meh!

This world we live in, man. I talk to guys at work all the time about their relationships with girlfriends/wives, etc. And.. it's honestly sad, how women are thought of as disposable to most of them. There's no gushing about how much someone loves their partner. There's no spring in most people's steps. Eyes don't light up usually, whenever I start a conversation about someone's relationship.

And the strangest of people that I work with, all seem to be getting laid. That makes it worse. How can Tuck, this old guy in his 70s, still manage to find someone to sleep with, let alone having her around as a "fuck buddy" ?

I don't get it. The only saving grace of his, is his sense of humor. That's it. He's not an attractive man. Whenever he describes how Sunday is his "sex" day, I just.. feel.. saddened. I mean, he gets excited about it, and good for him I guess, but it's just a "fuck buddy" and there's nothing really there, other than what is essentially a warm hole for him to put his dick inside of.

He's not the only one with that kind of relationship too. Doug is as well, and he's in his early 50s. His "girlfriend" Cindy keeps standing him up all the time. He'd tell me all excitedly about how she's coming over tomorrow, or in a few days, and then she either doesn't show up, or she comes by for a few minutes and leaves. No sex.

"I'm tired of this," he tells me. "She better come over this time."

The way he said, "she better come over" .. well.. it wasn't a good tone.

Tip of the iceberg, though. He said more things about her, and I don't think its worth mentioning on here. Too depressing. There's no love there.

Two guys at work cheat on their wives, that I know about.

Hrmph. At least my foreman seems to have a nice girlfriend. She dressed up in lingerie for his birthday a while ago, and got him a funny tshirt.

That's about it, really.

I wish.. (sighs)...

Although no one is reading this blog, I'm sure a "reader" would know what I would be wishing for at this point.

Yeah.

Her.

Her. Her. Her.

And..

I still don't know what to do about her.

I thought about.. (sighs) I'm tired.. I need to go sleep.

Rambling time is over.

Oh, and I gave the safety lady a piece of candy, telling her that it's a good way of improving relations with the workers. Same advice I gave Gina.

And.. yeah.

Why can't I shut up about her?

Hmph.

Oh, and I also had a fellow who yesterday I told about Gina and how she had two kids.

"I could never raise children that weren't my own." He said.

My mom said that too.

But..

Cash and Cole..

I still think I would be a good stepdad.

If they like me.

And..

(sighs)

I know I would try my best.

I'd teach them how to make smoke bombs. Get them a Venus fly trap. Goof around lots.

Just like the best parts of my dad, when I was growing up with him.

I hope.. I'll someday still be able to do that.

God, I'm such a loser.

Now I really have to go to work.

Leaping Into The Chasm

Dropped off the package for Nancy yesterday. Here is what I added in:

1) package of (opened) glow in the dark stars.
2) a partially used sheet of sticker paper with Princess Leia and a Tie Fighter still on
3) one sheet of vinyl lettering, which is a quote from Dr. Seuss "Be who you are, say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." (had an extra)
4) one can of black soy beans (??)
5) a small box of purple Nerds that I believe Gina gave to me once
6) one fortune cookie
7) a key ninja accessory, so you can put all your keys in one spot
8) one book titled, "Horrors: A History of Horror Movies"

That's quite a bit of stuff. Dropping it off at her home which was only five houses down; I immediately knew it was going to cheer her up. Judging by the lawn, I could tell it was a good home to be doing this for. Given the bit of a mess around, and the Halloween decorations and the toys scattered about; I figured it was a single-parent household, or at least, only one parent seemed to care/have time enough to put the decorations out.

My package'll cheer Nancy up. Decided against leaving a note, because now she'll always be wondering about who did it, and why. It'll be a story for the ages.

"This one time I got a package from Amazon, and someone took the box, opened it and put a bunch of useless stuff inside! Who would do something like that?"

Heh heh heh.

Since she has kids, I'm sure the glow in the dark stars, the Dr. Seuss wall quote, Leia and the Tie Fighter; each will all make a child somewhat happy. That book might even be appreciated, too. Who knows if there are many books in that home.

That aside, got to get ready for work again. Rumors are saying we're working Sunday, so no day off for me it seems. And I'm still sick. Still coughing and blowing my nose and feeling bleh.

But, what can I do?

My credit card is almost paid off, with the next cheque, it will be. Then, I'll have to throw a few bucks onto my line of credit and put a bit of a dent into it. It's tough though, 23 grand I have left on that. But I'm expecting around $2,200 on my next cheque, so that'll help a bit.

Slowly, but surely I'll be paying it off.

Imagined her in the smoke pit yesterday. I was sitting on a bench, letting my eyes go over the horizon, when I imagined her walking up to me, wearing her hard hat and a smile.

Looking like this.

It was quite vivid, I have to say. I'm pretty good at visualization.

Also, this is something I've been meaning to mention a few weeks ago but didn't consider it worthy enough to post about, until now.

I get touched at work. A lot. Yesterday was three fist bumps, a pat on the shoulder from Phil, a back handed slap on the chest by the tool crib lady, shook one person's hand, had a back pat from Warren, and I believe my foreman might have done a back slap as well.

I've never gotten touched this much before. It's strange. I don't find it off-putting or annoying, just odd, and I'm curious as to why its been happening so often in the past few weeks.

I feel like a Buddha, having people come by and rub my belly with the amount of touching going on.

And, another thing I realized, is that people seem to really like me. Certain people, anyways. The tool crib lady who is in her late 40s early 50s, had her eyes lit up when I walked inside the crib yesterday.

"I need a pair of liners, hand warmers and a jacket." I said.

"Yes, yes and no." She replies.

"No to the jacket? Who do I have to flirt with to get a jacket around here?"

And our banter went on. I stayed in there for around five or ten minutes, talking with each of the ladies. Made them laugh, especially when something about a guy being on manwatch came up, and I told them I was on "womanwatch" .. yeah.. cheesy stuff to be sure, but they laughed, and to me that's all that matters.

I like making people feel good. I can't always, but whenever I see an opportunity to make someone smile, I'll take it.

Nancy would know that by this point, even if she hasn't a clue as to how all that stuff ended up in her Amazon package.

Other people, too.

Thinking about Gina again.. and I realize that I have nothing left, almost. I toyed with the idea of writing her a long, heartfelt email just before Christmas; and I realized that I shouldn't have to do something like that. She.. ignored my text. My last email. My other texts. Broke up with me through text. Was hostile on the phone.

"You are not getting the message." She first told me, when we last talked. And then launched into the, "don't ever call me again, text me, message me or come to my house or work."

Maybe I should get the message.

But..

She's.. not worth giving up on. In bed, saying my prayers this morning, I pleaded for answers and it felt like a voice came inside. I don't know if it was my own, my higher-self speaking, or something else..

But, I had a little conversation with it. And one of the things I asked, was whether or not I will find my true love someday.

It said yes.

I then told it that I hated being on those dating sites, and I asked if my true love IS going to arrive, then would it be okay if I closed my profiles?

It also said yes.

So..

This.. is a leap of faith to be making. Paying attention to some (imaginary?) voice in my head during a moment of prayer. I recognize this voice, so.. it's not a new one. I remember it most while I was with Amy, and looked at myself in the mirror when it first arrived.

It told me that everything will be fine.

(sighs)

I don't know.. that was a long time ago, and this is now. I don't know if I can trust a voice inside of my head that is telling me what I most want to hear.

Because, it might not be anything other than my imagination talking.

But.. I have no other choice really. I have to put faith somewhere. In something.

And that voice, is as good as anything else is right now.

It's.. a clear, commanding voice. It has no neuroses. It's all-knowing, all-wise, kind, gentle, loving.

Again, it could also be my imagination. So, I don't know what to think.

And given how long ago it has been since I first heard it with Amy, I don't know if I can trust what it says. Because, "you will be loved" was told to me around.. four years ago, I think? I can't remember exactly when I was with Amy.

I can't wait four more years. That's too long of a time.

One of the things I remember thinking as this voice was speaking, is that I have a leap of faith to be making. And it goes right down the darkest of chasms, where I can't see where I might land.

That leap, means to forget about the woman that I now love.

Because, she's..

(sighs)

Gone.

And..

I don't.. think I can ever win her back. Unless I impress her somehow.

But how..?

And more importantly, why? Why should I have to struggle like this, to get her attention?

Because, she's my girl.

And.. I don't want to give up on her.

And.. she's also, not my girl. I haven't seen her in months.

How can I love someone that I'm unable to wrap my arms around? To talk to? To kiss?

But.. somehow, I'm still loving her. Despite the absence and distance between us.

I still love that woman. The girl with the golden heart.

Except.. someone with a good heart, would not have broken up with me the way she did, would she?

We were out of sync from the beginning. Her idea of love, is vastly different than mine.

For me, love is a slow burn. It takes time to let it bloom. You can't force love. You can force infatuation, but not the real thing. The real thing takes time to manifest and be sure of itself.

I..

(sighs)

I have to go to work.

Everything New Is Old Again

I love her.

Hey.. ! Shockers. A post referencing her, again?!

Yeah, it's getting old. It's already old. Halloween is approaching, and I realize that I'm not going to get to see her kids dressed up. I'm not going to be able to surprise her with any costume of my own either.

Missed out on spending the summer together. Missed celebrating my mom's retirement with her.

It's.. been so long since I seen her last. I think it was June 13th, when we left the Costco parking lot on a Sunday. It was windy. I bought rice pudding. Forgot what she was there for, but she bought a pair of pajamas for one of her boys if I remember.

She.. kissed me the last time I saw her. And.. like a fool, I didn't appreciate it because I didn't know it was going to be the last one.

The last kiss.

Breaking up through text.. man.. such an awful thing to do to someone. I..

My imagination murders me. If there are no questions of mine being answered, then it's up to me to figure out what is actually happening. Or might have gone wrong. Or something I've said and done that could have led to being broken up like this.

My imagination is torture.

(sighs)

Well. Only a few hours left before I have to go to work. Two hours, exactly. Which means a half hour of that is going to be spent on shaving/showering/misc grooming. Then, probably 20 minutes to get my lunch made and everything ready to go.

Let's say an hour is spent on the essentials, so that leaves me with an hour to unwind.

One hour.

Got a package from Amazon as soon as I got up.

Uhm.. I didn't order this. Did I? Was I completely stoned out of my mind that I thought it would be a good idea to purchase a Five Nights at Freddys "tween" costume?

No, I wasn't. Turns out this package was for Nancy, who lives around ten houses away.

Since I opened the box up, I have no choice but to reseal it with a funny message inside and maybe a couple cans of expired food product that I have no intention of ever opening. Like beans in a tomato sauce.

Just for the laughs, of course. Both mine and probably hers.

Hrmm.

I'm going to put in a leave of absence request for Halloween this year. I need a longer weekend. I want to hand out candy.

I'd like to be able to use the scarecrows I have.

This is a dumb idea, but I would love to put on a mask and ring her doorbell for candy. Just to see her again, and she wouldn't be any bit wiser for my being there.

Of course, people would call doing this "creepy" but I don't care. Not like I'm going to be there for more than a few seconds. Just able to look into her eyes, maybe see her smile. and then leave. I'll wait for a group of kids to come up, and blend in with them.

But, I'm not going to do that. For one, I'm not going to go through all that trouble. And two, if she has the slightest suspicion that it's me, then.. well, it won't be good. Otherwise I'd look like even more than a loser than I already am.

If such a thing is even possible.

Bleh.

Besides, she's likely to go out with her kids anyways.

Shower time. Twenty minutes of meditation afterwards.

I'll probably cry like a little baby again.

(sighs)

Another new day.

Another old one.

Weirdos of Feather, Flock Together

Just got back from a twelve (12!) hour shift. There's going to be a 12 hour one tomorrow, and another the day after that.

Yippee.

Note the subtle sarcasm there.

Well, I am making the money I suppose. It's what I'm going to work for. Not really thinking about it though, just have this "knowing" that it's something I need to be doing, despite my not liking it.

That's life, right? I shouldn't be complaining. Except, I miss my creativity. My free time. Hanging around at the park with a coffee and listening to music, sometimes reading. Always thinking.

Miss it. Love it.

Didn't manage to come up with much of any new ideas for the octopus story. I pondered for a brief instant, to write it out in rhymes, so this..

"There once lived an octopus, at the bottom of the sea. It was as lost and lonely, as any can be."

That's it. That's all I managed to come up with during a 12 hour shift. Didn't have time to zone out and let my thoughts wander. I spent my first break reading up on octopuses and (partly) Philip K Dick's Wikipedia entry. And then spent the second and third break on PKD as well.

He's such a fascinating guy. I've read his biography, his Wikipedia page and I'm quite familiar with his work. Somehow I felt compelled to go over the stuff I already knew, to see what I could transplant into my own novel. For PKD is one of the characters in it...

Anyways.. I still glossed over Gyngie's visit on Sunday. There were still things I haven't mentioned in my blog about our time together.

I liked our conversations most.

She steered it into a metaphysical direction at one point, and that's when I got really excited. I told her about the separation of soul and spirit, and how (my theory) the soul is nothing more than life energy. Kind of like a battery. Every living thing has a soul on this planet, from the biggest of mammals to the lowest of plant matter. It's the "spirit" that differentiates animals from human beings. And I also believe that the "spirit" of an individual, is recorded in some giant computer in the sky. All of our memories, actions and the things we witness of others; it's all being stored someplace. New Agers call it the Akashic Records, and I should really think of a better term than that, since I plan on putting this idea into my novel as well.

It's all simulation theory, anyways. We're the pawns and the entertainment for an intelligence much greater than ourselves. It makes sense to me. Angels and demons can fit into simulation theory as well as God, the Devil and it makes perfect sense, that a higher intelligence could simulate a convincing form of reality that we are completely oblivious towards.

So.. what now? I'm in bed, tired as heck (and 'heck' means pretty doggone tired) and.. I got to wake up and do it all again for another 12 hours.

Hoo boy.

Thought of Gina again.. she's fading, now. I can't for the life of me figure out how to win her back. I just can't come up with anything. My words are useless. Sending her a text or an email would be a waste of time, as she would ignore it anyways, no matter how heartfelt and sincere any of it all ends up being.

Leaving scarecrows on the side of the street, or snowmen..

Well..

I doubt they'd do anything to make her believe in me.

I just can't do anything. And that's partly what is motivating me to write this octopus story. I want to do something that will catch her attention, but in a positive way. She loved.. uhm.. she was infatuated with my "mind" and I should be appealing to her on that level. I should be displaying the best parts of my imagination, creativity and character by writing a good story that I can mail her someday.

The Lonely Octopus, could be that story. I don't know yet. I haven't had much time to think about it.

I'd like it to turn out well, but I just don't have the..

(sighs) .. creativity, at the moment. The passion.

My sense of humor.

I know none of it is gone, it's all buried in me. Dormant. Waiting to come out of hibernation once I'm finished with work. But.. sheesh. I wish I could tap into these things more readily.

Another thing I should mention, that occupied my thoughts briefly today, is that I haven't been completely forthcoming on my blog. Despite how much I've ranted on here about the smallest, most superficial things; I still feel a pang of regret, for not being completely truthful about this one particular thing I wrote a while ago.

I wrote it because I had it in the back of my mind, that Gina would read this blog at some point.

It was the post where I described why I think she wouldn't like me, what my vulnerabilities and quirks were.

I think I said, "brushing my teeth for a little too long" and "going for random drives" along with being outside barefoot at 1am to look at the sky.

Well, those things are true, but they aren't actually the stuff I'm most concerned about being accepted as having within myself.

I'm.. a dork. I play video games. I think too much, particularly about spirituality. I can be very insecure, and secure all at once. I can be a brave coward, both good and bad in bed, kind and loving and generous and also spiteful, cynical and withdrawn.

It all depends.. on factors that I can't always manage. Such as the type of person I'm with at the time.

With my cousin Marek, I was always the outgoing, joking, thoughtful type.

With others, I can be the opposite. Thoughtless, restrained, without a sense of humor.

I'm such a weirdo.

And every time I type weirdo, or weird, I'm immediately reminded of texting Gina that once. "I'm kind of a weirdo" and she replied with, "we can be weirdos together."

We can be weirdos together.

(sighs)

That didn't happen.

She was ..

It doesn't matter.

She is still the woman I love, and I can't figure out how to get her back.

But, I will be deferring to my heart on future decisions regarding her. I'm just going to have to make sure that they are not impulsive decisions, but.. genuinely sincere ones. Decisions that appeal to the core of my being. My heart.

But, only after I consider for a brief while, what my heart is actually asking of me before I go ahead and  accommodate its wishes.

Reason and intuition, hand in hand.

That's the way I gotta roll.

Time to get rolling.

ZzzzZZzzzZzz

Hrmph.

In the ocean, there lived an octopus.

It had blue skin and a tiny beak with eight long arms that were each as tall as a man.

How he dreamed of becoming a man, thought the octopus. His sighs made little bubbles in the water, that he watched float to the ocean surface.

The octopus could remember the girl with the golden heart, who once smiled at him from up above the rippling waters. 

She could never love me, thought the octopus. He knew how afraid the fishes were of him. And how afraid of them he was.

===

Best I could do for now. That's ten minutes worth of time, and I just don't have enough to let my imagination flex any of its muscles. I've got to leave for work soon here.

Oh well.

It's a start.