I have a black eye...
I'll post a picture on this blog soon (tomorrow maybe). So, the problem is, I am fairly mild mannered. So, how does a mild mannered person get a black eye, you ask? Well, maybe you arent asking (Although, if you are Mara, you are always asking questions (second Mara reference, you owe me big!) but I will give you an answer anyway.
Come to think of it, there are many ways in which a "mild mannered person" could get a black eye, and most of em involve being punched in the face (retaliation notwithstanding). I assure you, however, that this was not the case (Unless I've already told you the "I got in a fight with a bear, and this is all he could do to me" story, in which case you seriously ought to reconsider reading the remainder of this blog, just for effect). Anyway, it was about 9:30 in the evening and I was, as is becoming more and more usual, in the woods; Frontenac Provincial park to be exact, and about a two hour hike from the nearest, albeit abandoned, civilization. It was at this time that I decided to put up a tarp. Why, you ask? Because that's what people do when they are camping; they put up tarps. Anyway, I happened to be standing on a table to lash said tarp onto a tree, and this table happened to be on the edge of a rather steep embankment leading to water. I stepped off of the table onto what I assumed to be ground. I was gravely mistaken. A split second later I was standing in water (I say this loosely. I was more leaning than standing and did not yet realize that my feet where in water.In fact, I wasnt sure exactly where I was or if I was and was consoled singularly by the fact that my life had not, in fact, flashed before my eyes). It seems that somewhere in my transition from elevated cogniscance to watery blur I had slid over a rather jagged rock, which left me with an impressively livid bruise on the underside of my notoriously deepset eyes and a 1cm long gash which was denied a stitch, even though it adamently stood by its values by declaring that "openness" was indeed a virtue. I have since lobbied against it's demands, and though the flesh itself stands symbolically separated, the divot has been replaced with scab and, for the moment, everyone is happy. Except me, of course, because I have a smallish scab on my swollen left eye and I have to preach tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need sleep, and more preparation.
Wish me luck
Justin
I'll post a picture on this blog soon (tomorrow maybe). So, the problem is, I am fairly mild mannered. So, how does a mild mannered person get a black eye, you ask? Well, maybe you arent asking (Although, if you are Mara, you are always asking questions (second Mara reference, you owe me big!) but I will give you an answer anyway.
Come to think of it, there are many ways in which a "mild mannered person" could get a black eye, and most of em involve being punched in the face (retaliation notwithstanding). I assure you, however, that this was not the case (Unless I've already told you the "I got in a fight with a bear, and this is all he could do to me" story, in which case you seriously ought to reconsider reading the remainder of this blog, just for effect). Anyway, it was about 9:30 in the evening and I was, as is becoming more and more usual, in the woods; Frontenac Provincial park to be exact, and about a two hour hike from the nearest, albeit abandoned, civilization. It was at this time that I decided to put up a tarp. Why, you ask? Because that's what people do when they are camping; they put up tarps. Anyway, I happened to be standing on a table to lash said tarp onto a tree, and this table happened to be on the edge of a rather steep embankment leading to water. I stepped off of the table onto what I assumed to be ground. I was gravely mistaken. A split second later I was standing in water (I say this loosely. I was more leaning than standing and did not yet realize that my feet where in water.In fact, I wasnt sure exactly where I was or if I was and was consoled singularly by the fact that my life had not, in fact, flashed before my eyes). It seems that somewhere in my transition from elevated cogniscance to watery blur I had slid over a rather jagged rock, which left me with an impressively livid bruise on the underside of my notoriously deepset eyes and a 1cm long gash which was denied a stitch, even though it adamently stood by its values by declaring that "openness" was indeed a virtue. I have since lobbied against it's demands, and though the flesh itself stands symbolically separated, the divot has been replaced with scab and, for the moment, everyone is happy. Except me, of course, because I have a smallish scab on my swollen left eye and I have to preach tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need sleep, and more preparation.
Wish me luck
Justin
