redux.

So when WebSavvyMom commented on my previous post, saying “What do you think they say about you?”

I was all, like, “That’s a good question, I honestly don’t know”.

And then, cue the bafflement, ’cause, guess what? I’d never even thought about any of what I wrote or thought framed within the perspective of that question. Like THAT’S a surprise. Whew. I do love my crappy sentences.

But her question haunted me and made me think.

*pause*

Thinking takes me a long time.

*pause* *again*

Finally, after tortuously thoughtful hours, I realized that, hey, viewed from the perception posed by WebSavvyMom’s comment, that peering from that end of the telescope, I’M probably the freak, that I’M the one most ill-suited to fit in with my new world.

A sobering thought. One that I chased with a shot and a beer.

But it’s true.

It’s me that doesn’t belong. I’m a loner. And the class is all guy’s guys-they all hang and they all roll out at the breaks and smoke cigarettes with the instructor and trade stories and bond together and then they all roll back in together while I sit in the classroom and check e-mail on my iPad or read Carl Hiaasen’s new iBook which is totally fucking hilarious.

The book, I mean.

Man I hope I don’t get beat up.

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6 responses to “redux.

  1. –>I didn’t mean to make you spend so much time reflecting on the question. They may just think you’re the “tech guy” with the fancy phone and iPad. Who knows?
    I think something you all have in common is the desire to spend the majority of your day alone, on the road, with a purpose of moving something from point A to point B. My ass hurts thinking about that much time in a vehicle.

    deb

    aka websavvymom.com

    P.S. Since we’re in the same city, you can “check-out” virtual books from our library in case you didn’t already know.

  2. The common desire to spend the majority of your day alone, on the road, dealing with common fucks that can’t drive, dolling out road rage, to get the shit from point A (not fast enough) to point B, so you can off load for some punk that doesn’t give 2 shits about what you just went thru to get his shit there (not fast enough (did I say that already)), only to go to the depot, drop your empty trailor, hook up to a new load of rubber dog shit flown in from Hong Kong and take it to the next punk that doesn’t give 2 shits…………………. all the while longing for that chair back on the beach, with a cold beer, watching Miss Carol nap in all that heat, the ocean pounding the beach, bikini clad babes strolling past, laughing and drinking with your brother and his cupcake! Yea, this tractor trailor thing sounds sooooo interestingly intriguing!! If you’re gonna do this thing, put down the ipad, the ibook and all other electronics, don’t shower, shave or brush your teeth (matter of fact, get a couple teeth pulled), put on some dirty clothes, boots, tear (not cut) your sleeves up to your arm pits, get a couple of really shitty tattoos, cope an attitude, start smoking again and gone join them boys at break and start fittin’ in! You know what mom always said “got to learn to play nicely or you’ll get beat up!” You’re on your way to an odd ball, punk ass, who does he think he is, don’t fit in, don’t much like ’em ass whippin!
    Remember, you’re an ex wrestler, if the shit starts, get ’em to the ground, them rednecks ain’t got now leverage on the ground. Then beat ’em with your ipad book thingy!! LOL!!! I think I’m going back to the beach!! Sounds more safer!!!! Yeeeeha!!!!

  3. So…are you the nerd in truck driving school?

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