Getting Hit by a Car.

Okay, so quite a bit has happened since I last wrote on this thing.  I said in my first post that if I wasn't writing here, it was because I was writing else ware.  Well, I lied.  I haven't been writing at all.  I know, I suck.  Its funny.  I have writers block but not in the same way that I feel most people have it.  If I am already working on something I have absolutely no problem continuing work on it, but when I try to start something new I have no idea what to write. 

I am trying to hone my craft and work on short stories rather than work on a novel.  The main reason for this is that I am not a good enough writer to write a good novel yet and it would be quite the waste to put that much time and effort into a big steaming pile of crap.  So I am trying to write a whole bunch of short stories and then when I get my narrative style down and I am able to have well flushed out characters and what not, I will start working on the novel that I have been thinking about writing for a very long time.  And yes, the novel that I have been thinking about writing is in fact about zombies.

I imagine the casual reader stumbling across this blog and thinking, "Oh cool, a horror blog."  They start reading and think to themselves, "What the fuck is this bullshit."  Obviously the Starving Zombie reference is to a lack of brains, which I surly have.  That being said.  Let me tell you about Friday Night.

Last week I decided to get my broken down old Bicycle into working condition so that I could ride it around town and get into better shape.  You see, I bought a pair of pants for a wedding a couple of weeks ago and they were size 38 waist.  I have never in my life worn a pair of pants that were bigger than 36'' waist and this made me feel fat.  So I got my bike working and Friday night I road it to work down town.

My girlfriend was out of town and she called and I told her that I was on my bike and she seemed very concerned about me riding a bike at night.  I blew it off and said, "Oh I will be fine."  She told me to call her when I got home because she was worried.  I called before I got home because a little black V.W. Bug plowed into me.

When you are in an accident they say that time slows down.  I felt more like my brain sped up.  I knew that the car wasn't stopping and I myself tried desperately to stop, but that didn't happen.  In that moment before the car hit me I had already decided which way I was going to fall and how I was going to protect myself from breaking anything. 

The car hits my right leg and I spin around to the left throwing my bike clear and landing on my right shoulder and arm.  I skid to a stop, get up, pick up my bike and walk over to where the lady that hit me has pulled over.  She gets out of the car and is completely hysterical.

She was this young Spanish woman that was actually very attractive.  If I was single, I thought to myself, this would have been the perfect way to meet someone in a love story.  A  little cliche but if it is reality it is allowed to be cliche.  Then it is what people call "cute." 

I walked my bike the rest of the way home to avoid being hit by any more cars and when I was almost there I called my girlfriend and told her what had happened.  She was more upset at me for my stupidity than worried about my well being. 

I have been pretty sore for the last few days, but I am sure that I will live. 

Next time we will talk about the fiction writing class that I signed up for through the public library.  Let's just say there is a man there that is taking the class because as he puts it, "I hate fiction."