JUST COLLECTING CAR 29 STORIES [SORT BY THIS CATEGORY]
We'll now be (more) Accepting (of) Leftovers
Unlike the most of you, Saturday is quickly becoming my very own hump-day. The very middle of my week... the completion of 33+ plus hours "behind the wheel of a large automobile", with 22 or so left to go. It's shown itself to be the day I just fold up and collapse in order to catch up with the sleep I've stolen from the last three nights in order to maintain some form of existence in... your world.
Last night I pushed my exhaustion through a meeting with friends, then another get together with another, then a bit too far beyond and into getting a few things I needed doing done; leaving a grocery shop to the very last minute before wolfing down four frozen burgers while trying desperately to simply drop into bed before nine-thirty... an accidental, almost ghostly too totally real n' unreal image haunted me all through the night. A silhouetted couple in a brightly lit doorway ate away at the good sleep I so wanted, no, needed... Upon waking I was faced with an uneasy feeling an unusually uncomfortable CAR 29 and... leftovers.
I had been wondering these last few weekends just when would the remnants of just another wild Saturday night begin to appear as my early Sunday morning fares. I got these first ever leftovers from last evenings today... the first just after five-thirty AM. A young fella and two, young ladies all dressed in black. All giggling and bubbling with an energy I once had when I was much younger and then had once, twice then three times again, when I was on something while much older.
Me and this giggling, bubbling gang made three separate stops to drop each of them off separately across the top of town. The last drop, the fella all by his lonesome but still laughing at himself and his situation. I reminded him, she'll likely be happy that you left it where it was left last night, where we dropped her. And tried to persuade him that she'd likely accept the call that I suggested he make bit later this evening.
More leftovers...an older still tipsy, not yet hung-over fella... I picked up this older man in town from the county to deliver him from the Heights to the truck he'd left downtown near the Lone Star. He'd just finished up a long morning, running right through to a some might say a successful yet frustrating POF date that ended in a plea for commitment he'd no intention of accepting. He was shaking his head in my direction as he described how he was off home to work with his son on some rooftop. Maybe to fend off a bitter disappointment of not yet becoming comfortably positioned between his old life and this one... and all the yet to come long running into the morning POF date evenings.
Then yet another pickup n' delivery to a truck left somewhere in the evening. Another lost lonely pickup left ever so smartly behind down on Princess. A player all dressed up for golfing, a now scramble-brained fella admittedly regretting having made this obligation for such an early morning tee off. On our way down Division, he spent most of his time reviewing his txt'ngs to find all the stupid things he'd texted to other players late into last evening. A hurried call leaving one of those oh too familiar next morning regretful apologies, all the time hoping we'd find the pick up just where he'd left it. We did, and I left him right where he'd left off... and onto the fairway...
Then... a break from these leftovers when I accepted a call from my good n' humbling buddy, ol' Bob.
I spoke with Bob briefly, mentioning how ...near the end of yesterday, in my state of exhaustion while speaking with good friends I'd presented the suggestion, most likely more even to remind myself... a notion that accepting is not synonymous with ignoring or avoiding, forgetting nor denying or letting things fester in hiding on one's old dusty n' dirty back shelf. Accepting seems to me more of the facing, constantly reviewing how little control over what others around me may be thinking or doing... how little my problems and worries may mean to most others. Accepting is hard workings, grasping the understanding that it's just not about me, my impact n' inputs... it's a striving to get out from underneath one's truly deceiving and ego driven self.
So, I worked through this all throughout my new hump day, slept with uneasy visions of silhouettes in doorways bringing back vividly some old painful memories of calamities I've have consistently over some time found so utterly useful. This morning as I rode along with and drove these folks I'll call Saturday's Leftovers to their now sun lit in varied different destinations... CAR 29 remained unusually uncomfortable until Bob's call when I was able to drop off that last and unsteadiest of fares... that no longer young fella uneasily reminding me of one's foolish self pity... this older guy apparently from time to time still holding, reviewing, reflecting and facing all those now olden ill feelings towards my own gloriously useful and treasured... leftover feelings.
Last night I pushed my exhaustion through a meeting with friends, then another get together with another, then a bit too far beyond and into getting a few things I needed doing done; leaving a grocery shop to the very last minute before wolfing down four frozen burgers while trying desperately to simply drop into bed before nine-thirty... an accidental, almost ghostly too totally real n' unreal image haunted me all through the night. A silhouetted couple in a brightly lit doorway ate away at the good sleep I so wanted, no, needed... Upon waking I was faced with an uneasy feeling an unusually uncomfortable CAR 29 and... leftovers.
I had been wondering these last few weekends just when would the remnants of just another wild Saturday night begin to appear as my early Sunday morning fares. I got these first ever leftovers from last evenings today... the first just after five-thirty AM. A young fella and two, young ladies all dressed in black. All giggling and bubbling with an energy I once had when I was much younger and then had once, twice then three times again, when I was on something while much older.
Me and this giggling, bubbling gang made three separate stops to drop each of them off separately across the top of town. The last drop, the fella all by his lonesome but still laughing at himself and his situation. I reminded him, she'll likely be happy that you left it where it was left last night, where we dropped her. And tried to persuade him that she'd likely accept the call that I suggested he make bit later this evening.
More leftovers...an older still tipsy, not yet hung-over fella... I picked up this older man in town from the county to deliver him from the Heights to the truck he'd left downtown near the Lone Star. He'd just finished up a long morning, running right through to a some might say a successful yet frustrating POF date that ended in a plea for commitment he'd no intention of accepting. He was shaking his head in my direction as he described how he was off home to work with his son on some rooftop. Maybe to fend off a bitter disappointment of not yet becoming comfortably positioned between his old life and this one... and all the yet to come long running into the morning POF date evenings.
Then yet another pickup n' delivery to a truck left somewhere in the evening. Another lost lonely pickup left ever so smartly behind down on Princess. A player all dressed up for golfing, a now scramble-brained fella admittedly regretting having made this obligation for such an early morning tee off. On our way down Division, he spent most of his time reviewing his txt'ngs to find all the stupid things he'd texted to other players late into last evening. A hurried call leaving one of those oh too familiar next morning regretful apologies, all the time hoping we'd find the pick up just where he'd left it. We did, and I left him right where he'd left off... and onto the fairway...
Then... a break from these leftovers when I accepted a call from my good n' humbling buddy, ol' Bob.
I spoke with Bob briefly, mentioning how ...near the end of yesterday, in my state of exhaustion while speaking with good friends I'd presented the suggestion, most likely more even to remind myself... a notion that accepting is not synonymous with ignoring or avoiding, forgetting nor denying or letting things fester in hiding on one's old dusty n' dirty back shelf. Accepting seems to me more of the facing, constantly reviewing how little control over what others around me may be thinking or doing... how little my problems and worries may mean to most others. Accepting is hard workings, grasping the understanding that it's just not about me, my impact n' inputs... it's a striving to get out from underneath one's truly deceiving and ego driven self.
So, I worked through this all throughout my new hump day, slept with uneasy visions of silhouettes in doorways bringing back vividly some old painful memories of calamities I've have consistently over some time found so utterly useful. This morning as I rode along with and drove these folks I'll call Saturday's Leftovers to their now sun lit in varied different destinations... CAR 29 remained unusually uncomfortable until Bob's call when I was able to drop off that last and unsteadiest of fares... that no longer young fella uneasily reminding me of one's foolish self pity... this older guy apparently from time to time still holding, reviewing, reflecting and facing all those now olden ill feelings towards my own gloriously useful and treasured... leftover feelings.
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