Annoying Even At Night

Yesterday I got my first blog request. I called up Gurney to tell her that she had a cameo in a dream of mine the night before, and she said I had to blog about it. Keep in mind that this post would otherwise have not been written. First, as I've said in the past, no one cares about other people's dreams unless they're in them. Which is why I called up in Gurney in the first place. Second, I didn't feel the dream touched upon a subject worth talking about. However, Gurney, who has not yet to come to fully grasp my brilliancefeels that I was (as always in her opinion) wrong in my dream and everyone needs to know about it.

Like pretty much all of my dreams it involved a trip. Essentially my dreams are me going somewhere and visiting briefly rather than staying somewhere. Almost all my dreams take place in temporary locations, I'm never in the same spot for long although I tend to visit the same spots over and over throughout the nights. So this time I was traveling with a fairly decent sized group of people on a trip that was going to take more than one day to complete. I was traveling in a large van that had a 3x2 matrix of captain chairs that were quite separated from each other which created a large middle area (bear with me I need to set some things up). I had a few travel companions, the two most important being Gurney and another stranger who I made up in the dream but we shall call Jerry just cause I need to call the stranger something (you may be thinking that I may be referring to someone in particular, the answer is sort of but not really).

We had plans to stay in my old elementary school for the night (it's a dream I don't have a reason why we were there but it comes up frequently, especially the basement before the renovations). As a result of this we all had the foresight to bring sleeping bags, pillows and sheets. All of us excepting Jerry who only brought a sheet. Additionally, Jerry was wearing blue-jean shorts while I was wearing proper blue-jeans.

Now here is where the dream really got started. Gurney noticed Jerry's lack of bedding and asked me to share mine with him. I happened to have extra everything, including an extra pair of jeans he could wear so that he wouldn't get cold in the night wearing shorts. I did not like this idea at all. Not because I had a problem sharing my extra bedding and jeans, but it was the consequences of doing so. Jerry knew good and well we were going to be staying that night in the school, and like everybody else he should have made preparations to ensure a proper night's sleep. To his credit he wasn't complaining about his situation in the dream, only Gurney seemed to have a problem with it.

So Gurney wanted me to share my bedding and jeans to help him out. My problem with that is that in doing so Jerry would essentially be spoiled. He didn't prepare but was still going to get the benefit of my foresight. If Jerry had special needs that would be one thing, or if he simply forgot to grab his bag on the rush out the door that would be another, but no, instead he just didn't think to bring anything proper. He brought something, in this case a sheet, which indicates he at least had the capability of thinking ahead, but it was clearly not going to offer much help against the hard stone floor. So I said, let him sleep with that sheet. It's only for a night and it will teach him to think ahead next time. It's not like one rough night is going to kill him. Giving him my extra supplies in my opinion was an injustice to him. He wasn't going to learn anything if I gave him that stuff, and in the long run I would be doing him a disservice. By not sharing my stuff I would actually be facilitating his growth. I see no reason why I should enable idiots.

But Gurney wouldn't let the issue drop. She insisted that I give him my extra bedding and jeans. At this point I started getting annoyed. Gurney has that affect on me. And I said I'd give him the stuff. That wasn't good enough. Not only did she want me to give it to him, but she also wanted me to see it from her point of view that I was doing a nicety. I had to do with a smile and charitable heart. I told her she was wrong, but that I didn't care enough to get into another one of our fights about it. I'd give him the clothes off my back and sleep on the floor in the middle of the van (told you it was important) if it would get her off my case. No still not good enough for her. She just kept going on and on about it. Then that broke the straw and I gave her the riot act. It was quite impressive. I remember even in the dream being proud at how it all came out, because normally I don't think of the good things to say until after the fact. This time it all came out exactly how I wanted it to, and after it I stormed off, quite pleased, to the next bit of the dream, thinking that this is what happens when I bottle things up for years on end. Give me a reason and it's all coming out.

The reason I was asked to post this is because Gurney somehow thinks she was right in the dream to tell me to give Jerry my extra stuff. And I still think, just like in my dream, that she's completely wrong here.

Corny Dialogue

About the only thing harder than going up to strangers to try to start a conversation, is not getting discouraged when things don't go well. After Mass on Wednesday, Sr. Sarah requested to the rest of the congregation that she needed more drivers to help drive freshmen to and from a retreat being held for them this weekend. I perked up at this opportunity because this was an easy way to get to meet new people (yes, even I agree the freshmen are way too young, just go with me here), and do something good for a change because I am by far the most self-serving person I know. But in a special way I thought it would be nice in that this time I would be able to give my passengers a treat by way of a ride in my kitty-cat. And sure enough the three guys I wound up with were quite thrilled to get to ride for a half-hour with me. And tomorrow I'll get to take another three back. So that was nice. I do like volunteering and making people happy, I should probably get over my last fiasco and do more (see Squirrel Nests).

After that I had a free evening ahead with many opportunities. A concert was being held where I work, a sweet corn festival was going on in the neighboring town, and my own place brought in a circus. I decided to skip the concert and start with the circus.

I love circuses. I love watching the performers and the trained animals. I even love the clowns. So I was very intrigued by the notion that my complex was bringing in a circus. The problem is that circuses are hot-spots for families. I knew walking on over about all I was going to see were established families and little children running around but I went anyway. My plan was to find someone who I pass by on my walks around the pond but have never talked to. There are quite a few residents here that I see nearly everyday from walking around that I've never introduced myself to. But unfortunately I did not see any of them at the circus, and as I expected it was mostly all families and children. As I was walking through I saw something far more eye-catching than the circus performers. Just as I was leaving the main crowd, I passed by a lady standing off to the side lighting up a cigarette. Now I have had precious little exposure to pregnant women but she was pregnant if I've ever seen one. I couldn't believe it. Never in a million years would I have thought to see, in this day and age, pregnant lady smoking. I almost said something, I was really close, but then I thought that maybe just maybe she wasn't pregnant. Like I said, I haven't been around really anyone who has been pregnant so I don't know precisely what they look like, but she had all the signs. So instead of saying something I decided to play it safe and give her one of my "if looks could kill" faces with a little sake of the head left and right. Unfortunately she didn't look at me as I passed by.

I finished my walk and headed back up to my place. Today is Friday and that means Monk is on. Yet, while I was in Charlottesville, WAM had to go and say that if I'm watching Monk in my apartment on a Friday night, I have absolutely no chance of meeting someone, whereas if even I just go outside for a walk there is at least the possibility no matter how remote. Stupid WAM you've ruined the one thing I look forward to each week! So I recorded it, and headed back out to try my luck at the sweet corn festival.

Even on the way I had little hopes this was going to be worth it. My plan was to walk around and see if I could find anyone I know, or maybe some other person wandering around that I could talk to. Amazingly I don't think 5 minutes went by for any length of time where I didn't see someone I knew. Right away I ran into the person who originally hired me at my current job, although he himself is no longer with the company. Then I walked by a girl who was with a group of unfamiliar friends. This girl is involved with the Church I go to, and I've seen her a bunch. So we caught each other's eye, said "Hi" real quick and I kept on walking. This is because I am shy. She was with a group of people I didn't know, I couldn't think of anything to say right off the bat, and I don't like just forcing myself upon people. Then I grew a pair and made a u-turn. She was in line to get some sweet corn, but in order to get the corn you have to have tickets. So I had to find a place that sold the tickets, and get in line. I was hoping that maybe I could somehow get the tickets and get in line with them, since they were at the back. However, by the time I got in line they were already eating their corn. Still unperturbed I got my corn, and walked over to her and said 'Hello' once more. I said I didn't mean to be rude earlier by just saying 'Hi' and walking off, but that I was trying to find a ticket counter so I could get in line to get the corn (actually there's no lie in that, sort of). She either bought that line, or at least pretended to go along with it for my sake, because we properly introduced and talked for about 15 or 20 minutes. Then I excused myself and headed on my way to see the rest of the festival. I didn't want to overstay my welcome and it was still a bit awkward for me. You gotta remember I don't get out much so these social engagements are tough. Like as we (the group not just the girl and I) were talking, people we know came up and said hello. So there could be periods of time when I was just standing there munching on your corn while the others would talk with their friends. And it worked both ways. There were times when I saw some of the group members just standing there awkwardly while I was talking to others. Remember I don't do well with the awkward silences (See Water). But in the end I met some new people, got to talk to that girl, and had corn which was surprisingly tasty. It was also nice to be talking to people my own age for once. That's half the battle in this town. Most everyone seems to either be older or younger.

WAM I hope you're happy. I missed Monk but it didn't turn out too bad. In my defense though tonight's episode looked like a great one.

Goldielocks of Tidy

A few people I know say that I am a bit too neat. This seems like it should be complimentive but instead those people mean it negatively. As though being tidy is an improper habit that indicates deeper character flaws. I think this is purely ridiculous in my case. Specifically, by being sensational I cannot be 'too much of anything' other than right, so therefore these people must be wrong.

Actually this is a symptom of a larger I've noticed lately in our society. Let's take the current example of some people saying I'm too clean. This opinion of theirs is based upon observation and their own pre-conceived notions about just how clean things ought to be in given situations. In my situation, by being a 20 something year bachelor, culturally speaking my living arrangements ought to be shabby, unkempt, and foul smelling. Now I understand that much. We all tend to make these small judgements all the time. The problem is that it does not get to the heart of the matter. Take these clean (or maybe in this case dirty) police. They've got their opinion of me on the matter. Now they have a choice, they can silently hold this impression of me, or they can bring it to light. The first silent option is quite wrong. First, people should care for others, and if they think someone has a legitimate problem that concern should be addressed. Secondly, they may be holding an impression which is quite wrong and could be corrected if only they were to bring it up. In fact maybe it's the person holding the impression who has the problem, because their sense of what's right and wrong could be completely out of whack.

So there are three situations here. First, the person who is too clean could be wrong. Second, the person who is too clean could be right but only appears wrong. Third, the person who has the impression of the person who is too clean has a flaw in their own thinking. Now none of these options can be addressed if the person holding the impression keeps it to himself. Thus it should be addressed. Fortunately, I have the blessing of friends who have no qualms what so ever about telling me what they think about my habits and inclinations.

However, while my friends are right to address the potential problem, my friends are still usually wrong in their approach. They always take situation 1 to be the case. When actually we already know this can never actually be the case, because we have already established that I'm the sensational one. With this in mind, we have to right-away look to situation 2 or 3.

Situation 2 is what I'd like to discuss today. What my friends so very often fail to do is address the possibility of situation 2, and it's very easy to do so. In order to address this situation all one has to do is ask me for my motives. I am constantly amazed at how much I can get away with because no one ever bothers to ask me 'why?'. I think the 'why' question so rarely comes up anymore because culturally we are obsessed with staying out of other people's business. So rather than try to get a clarification, we would rather hold our own impressions on the matter, right or wrong, and never bring it up. I would rather be asked something extraordinarily personal rather than have someone silently seeing me for something I'm not. Anyway, back to the situation. No one ever asks me why I tend to be so neat.

The truth is that I'm not too neat, I just keep certain things more clean and tidy than others. Two weeks back just before I went to Charlottesville, I told a co-worker I was going to wash my tire rims before leaving. He thought this was completely ridiculous. Now generally I would agree with him, however in this case the impression my rims make on my car is tremendous. When they are clean, the car is downright uplifting to the soul. When they are dirty the car looks old, and it brings on depressed emotions. When I had the van, God Bless it, I never bothered with the rims because they looked about the same clean or dirty. The difference between the two wasn't enough to warrant the time required to clean them. So maybe once or twice a year I'd make the effort and get them all nice again. But with my kitty-cat the difference between clean and dirty is incredible. Two days ago my co-worker made fun of me yet again, so I dragged him outside to show him the car. Right away he said the rims looked fine. See, they really don't look that bad when they are dirty because the dirt is uniform. It's the same effect the candle soot had on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling still looked amazing and a a tourist would never know the difference because he had never seen it clean before. Then I scrapped off the smallest bit of dust with my shoe and he was flabbergasted to the point that he bent down to test things out with his finger. To further illustrate this to you, my dear readers, I have included before and after photos.

Hence, I am not too neat. I just try to keep certain things looking nice because I find they create a more noticeable impression than other things. So I'm not too tidy, or not too untidy, I'm just right.

Focusing on Martin

Despite promoting itself as the best public library in the country, I could legally buy a gun quicker than I can get a library card at the university. It's going to take 2 weeks for me to get my card and the ability to check out books! I found out today early this afternoon. The reason I found out early this afternoon rather than this evening is because I got off work early. The reason I got off work early was because at 4:00 this morning my body decided it was time for me to get up. I firmly told it I shall not be getting out of my bed, but my body said oh yes you are, and a short while later I'm sitting at my desk at work. I didn't mind because it is amazing out today and I was excited to go to the library to get the books I wanted and enjoy them in the sunshine. But no such luck.

Yesterday, while I was with my out of town friends on the Quad, one of them wound up carrying around Curtis Martin's 'Made for More'. Next thing I know he's telling me how I just have to read it. This is one of my pet peeves. I hate it when people recommend me things because people have terrible taste. Look, like this blog says right at the top of the page, I'm the sensational one. I'll tell you what you ought to be experiencing, not the other way around. Well yesterday somehow I was the one who ended up with that book, and since getting a library card was out of the question, I decided to take Martin's book to the pool instead. It's written at a 4th grade level, and is nice and small which makes it perfect pool food.

Now in fairness, the book is pretty good. The title is stupid and irrevelent to the book, and the first chapter is completely devoid of any theological merit (yes I know he was just painting a nice picture) but otherwise I would recommend it to fulfill specific purposes. The book is 7 chapters, but the first chapter is that theologically ridiculous introduction so we won't count that one. The remaining 6 chapters are very good. Essentially the first 5 are a summation of Christology. And Martin does well at hitting the major points and explaining them very clearly and with relevent examples. One part I very much liked was his bit on the role of the high Queen which I had never heard before. For anyone wanting to know more about Jesus at an introductory or overview level, this book would get a high recommendation from me. And he gives references to a few sources that would allow a curious reader to delve deeper. I always wonder how someone who doesn't believe in Jesus would respond to the arguments put forth in these types of books, like I would love to see a Jewish commentary on this book.

The last chapter is more amusing than anything else. Martin gives us his chicken soup for the soul life story and, true to the FOCUS community he founded, cannot help himself from promoting the importance of Bible studies. It's here and in that introduction where he tries to bring the book's title into play by making those 5 Christological chapters fit into everyday life but come on, 5/7ths of this book is an intellectual study on Christ. I'm not buying his connection. But anyway, if you don't feel like taking an actual course on Christology then this book would be a good way to go.

Mis-interpreted Pink Ribbon

Today was quad day on campus. Each year I try to go out and walk it to see what the students are up to. This year I was happy about some changes I saw. The Catholic ministry booth, in addition to the students running it, had priests walking about meeting the students. I saw them mingling with the students and walking the quad getting to meet people. In years past it was always the nuns who had this role and they kept to the confines of the booth. So I was very pleased to see them taking that extra step to really try to engage with the student body. The next thing I liked was that the prolife booth was being run only by girls. To me that was a plus because so often when I find myself having these types of conversations with girls, if they find they can't get around my arguments they'll just throw out the 'you're a guy card' and reject everything I say because of it. So having a significantly large group of girls running that booth was encouraging to see.

But a part of quad day is not just the booths but also the students themselves. As I was leaving I passed by a girl wearing a 'I heart boobs' (in the 'I heart NY' style) t-shirt. After she passed I started thinking about that shirt. First I was very confused because I thought that should be something an immature college guy would wear, not a girl. Then I thought that maybe it was part of a new campaign for breast cancer awareness. And then I had the 'ooooooooh' moment.

After quad day I went to a cookout at the rectory. I go to this every year because I'm not about to pass up a free meal. Although each year I start feeling a bit older and more out of place. But thankfully, I had some people to sit with and I ended up having dinner with Dr. Howell. To my non-Catholic friends, Dr. Howell is pretty well known among the Catholic community in the United States, and a previous professor of mine while I was in the School of Theology, so it was very nice getting to catch up with him. Although it can be tiring talking to him. He always seems to make convesations pertinent to very important matters. If I wanted to talk to him about the latest Mario Brothers, he'd probably turn the conversation into a discussion on the social implications, good or bad, the past twenty years of technology has had on generation x and y. Tonight he wanted to talk about the Polish community of Chicago, charter schools, and the status of our school's woman's volley ball team. And it was really nice. I always like getting to share some time with my professors outside of the classroom. I find that time can serve as a great motivation to re-focus on my own studies.

Free Bread

Looking at the calendar today, I saw that there were going to be two block parties held downtown. This intrigued me, since generally the younger college students stay away from the downtown area, which makes it a decent place for meeting people closer to my own age. Now the block parties were essentially two concert venues with a bunch of different bands. That makes it difficult to talk to people because of the loud music, but I figured it was better than nothing so I decided to go on out and check out the scene.

As I was getting ready I called Andrew to see if he'd want to come on out. He was already downtown at one of the cafs studying so I met up with him there. From there we then went to another caf that served food so he could eat dinner (I had already eaten). Alright I realize this is a rather mundane fact but I'm mentioning it because while we were the there the caf staff was starting to clean up for the night and one of the workers asked if we'd like some loaves of bread for free. That was pretty fantastic and we both took one. After Andrew finished up and with my loaf of bread in tow we went out to the parties.

The parties were well attended but we didn't see anyone we knew, and no one we'd really like to get to know. However, I noticed one of the waitresses was sort of pretty. Now when it comes to waitresses I've always had the impression that asking them out is just something one doesn't do. I don't know why exactly, but it's always been completely taboo to me. This includes people who serve similar functions such as a grocery store check out lady, or maybe the girl at the video store. You just aren't supposed to ask someone out while they're working. If their out in public then it's fine. Well, I've decided not to let that stop me anymore. But while I was with Andrew I only took notice of her. After walking around for a few minutes we both got bored and decided to call it a night.

When I got home I was a bit frustrated. Here it was 9:30 on a Saturday night and once again no one was calling. I got online looking for a social outlet of some sort and checked my e-mail. But all that was in there were some interesting ads for enhancing me. Apparently these adds don't know I'm stupendous. You just can't enhance stupendous. I deleted those and then just started browsing around. Then I got mad at myself. I knew that if any friends of mine who live out of town were to call me up just to chat because they were lonely and had nothing to do on their Saturday night, I would scream at them to get up and get out and go meet some people. So then I said "fine, I'll go back out and try to engage with that girl."

My reasoning for doing this was because first I'm never going to meet people by sitting here at the computer in my apartment (actually this isn't entirely true and may warrant another blog but for now just go with me). Secondly, I need to get over the difficulties I have trying to meet new people. Third, I shouldn't have double standards and be able to scream at my friends for being idiots when I myself am behaving just like them. Fourth, I needed something to blog about to keep you happy.

I hate going out after 8. If I'm already out and about I don't mind staying out. But actually leaving my place after 8 is a no no. Well at this point it was approaching 10, so going back out was a pretty big deal. When I got there, right away I noticed that while the block party was still packed, she was all by herself, so that was my chance. My plan was again to just ask her if she'd ever like to meet up for a meal or something. It's not very good way to start a conversation but when the nerves are running high it's the best I can do. I go on over and because of the music I lean in and start to ask. But I got all tongue tied. Not that it mattered, she was quick to point out that she has a boyfriend. I put my hand up in that 'I understand' gesture and walked away. This time (see Grocery List), rather than the quickened heartbeat and adrenaline, I had the shakes and butterflies. Nevertheless, I'll still sleep better because at least I went out and tried rather than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

But boy is it difficult. Andrew is the only one in town who goes out with me. Actually our friendship is kinda funny. We hang out in order to meet other people. Now you may all think I'm crazy but I'm not (hmm, the Joker said the same thing in the 'Dark Knight'). It's not like I'm not active. I know the easiest way to meet people is by getting involved and I have been involved with several different programs this past year. But it should be possible to meet people at community events like those being held tonight. Yet it so difficult. It seems that everyone is already with a group of friends. And going up all alone and trying to talk to someone is really hard. Now of course I'm ruining it from the getgo by asking something like "wanna hang out sometime?", but it's not like there is a whole lot else to talk about with a complete stranger. It's not like I can just go up to someone and say, "Hey, I find the Method of Moments to be an inefficient algorithm for wire-based antennas because they are resonant structures, how do you feel about the matter?" Usually I find that I have the best luck around the ice-cream and tortilla chip isles of the grocery store. At those two locations I'll go right up to shoppers and tell them what the best brands are. Then they tell me what they like, and I patiently correct them. But that's usually one-on-one and very short lived. It doesn't solve the problem of the public events where typically people are together in small groups.

Oh well, maybe someday I'll figure out a solution and write a book on the matter. At least the evening wasn't a complete waste. I did get a nice loaf of bread out of it.

Two-for-One

Work has been a great place to make acquaintances, but as far as friendships go it's a bit more difficult. The problem is a lot of my co-workers are married with families and are a few years older than me. So it's not like we get together at night to play the latest video game, or go out to the bars. But like I said, it has been great for acquaintances and I do talk to several of the workers around the water cooler (yes we have the iconic water cooler which we all stand around). Yesterday, one of the workers who spends a lot of time at that cooler came by. She wanted to kill two hours and knew I could easily gab for that long. After about one hour of this another co-worker came along who wanted to speak with her. So she said I was off the hook. And I yelled at her that "I'm not just some object that can be used for awhile and then thrown out like the trash (we all know this is actually true but I like to pretend it's not)." She said, "You should be flattered that I wanted to talk with me for two hours in the first place." "Well I would be if you weren't married and moving to California on Saturday."

As all the students are moving in this week, she is moving out. That's okay though, because while I suppose I do like them hard to get, I find girls who are married and living on the other side of the country are a bit out of my reach.

Today she asked if I could take her to the airport so she could pick up a rental car because her's is being shipped out to California and she's flying there. The airport is really close so it wasn't a big deal. On the way we had to go through a residential section and I saw a couple walking three basset hounds. Oh my. She said she never saw me look so happy before. It reminded me of when I was a child in elementary school and the awards assembly we had twice a year or so to recognize scholastic achievement. For each grade a teacher or the principal would call up the students who got A's and B's and earned the merit roll, and those who got all A's and earned the honors roll. You then got to walk up, shake the principal's hand, get a piece of paper saying you made the merit or honor roll and a fancy colored pencil. Now even then I knew this was just a nice thing mostly for the parents enjoyment, but even still whenever I got called up I couldn't help smiling. And not wanting to seem proud I tried to keep a straight face. For some reason when I was 8 I associated smiling for an achievement to be gloating with pride. I don't know. Anyway, I couldn't do it. My body wanted to smile and I would end up grinning like the Cheshire cat everytime. This happened today when I saw those three basset hounds being walked. I just could not stop smiling. Even now as I type this I'm sitting here smiling just thinking about them.

When I got home tonight I wanted to walk around the pond. In the community I live, we have a section of town houses which are for the most part populated by newly budding families. So you have young couples who have a few children. If they didn't have the children they wouldn't be in the town house. And it can be amusing walking by because you get to watch all the neighborhood children running around playing with each other. I find it cute, and there's a huge racial diversity living her so it's nice to see all these different breeds (they're sorta like puppies) getting along. As I was walking by that section I heard a little girl crying and as I got closer I saw that she had fallen off her bicycle. Now I was on the phone with my balloon animal friend, but I decided I should probably go and make sure she wasn't going to die. Afterall, I had just come from Confession and didn't feel like going back for a sin of omission. So I go up there, and ask her if she's alright. My heart melted talking to her, because she's a sobbing mess as I approach, but to answer me I could tell she was trying to compose herself by sniffling back her tears and runny nose and as with a big a voice as she could muster she said "uh-huh". Not believing her, I then asked if she needed any help. She again choked back the tears and said her sister was getting her Dad. I said okay, and told her I was going to pick her bike up off the ground for her. That made me chuckle a bit. The bike was a wreck. The kickstand was completely broken, and the handlebars were bent. It reminded me of the many tremendous bike accidents I had as a kid. Then remembering those accidents, I looked to see if she was wearing a helmet. Of course she was because we baby kids nowadays. I stood with her for a minute and then saw her Dad come out. I waved and he waved back and I continued on with my walk. At that point she stopped trying to act all brave and started crying again, reached out her arms to be picked up, and started crying "Daddy, daddy." It was extremely cute.

One of my more memorable bike accidents was also the most recent one. I think it was my senior year of high school. My job was lawn mowing, and I typically mowed for realtors in the city I lived in because they paid well for my point of view and I charged less than the big landscaping companies. Plus I always did great work and they liked that. This time around I had gotten a call that there was a yard on my block which needed to be cut. I went over there with the lawn mower and found the grass was just too tall and it wouldn't be possible with my mower. In the process I did try to take a swipe at the grass, and wound up making a mess of things. So I took the mower back home and got a broom so I could sweep up the grassy mess I made on the little path going from the house's driveway to the front door. Now since the house was just down the street, I decided rather than driving down to it with the broom, I would just ride my bike there with the broom in hand. While riding there, I decided that this would be the perfect time to pretend I was the wicked witch from the West. I took the broom with both hands and angled it parallel with the ground so it looked like I was flying. And for a few seconds it worked wonderfully. Then the broom head dropped a bit and got caught in my back spokes. At this point I literally was flying. It was quite impressive I flipped over the handle bars, but my leg got caught in my bike chain. This caused the bike to fall on top of me. But I lived to tell the tale.