I've been trying to think of what to say lately and nothing really seems to do the trick in my mind. You see, there's this awkwardness here, like an impervious silence in a full room. Of course, I can't wait for you to say something. It just doesn't work that way. Besides, you don't even know what's happened.
Life is full of decisions: how we decide to react to circumstances both within and outside of our control, what we decide to take ownership of... these decisions define us. The choices we make become who we are.
Instead of taking responsibility for his shortcomings, one of the individuals that lost his job earlier this summer decided to place the blame elsewhere. Apparently that means that taking my pictures off my blog and posting them to various places on the web with defaming comments is justified. I won't get into what was said, but it was enough for me to open up a case with the local police department. That in itself says something. I'm not one to be bothered by run-of-the-mill slander attacks, but this was above and beyond what might be considered within reason.
Where does it go from here? I'm not sure. They've assigned a detective to the case but I haven't heard anything yet. They said it could take a while to subpoena the websites where the content was uploaded. The process isn't fun, that's for sure.
In other news, I burned the skin off my right ankle this weekend. Whew! I'll have to post a picture, it's a bit gruesome. No worries though, I can still walk around just fine - it's a bit uncomfortable, but I'll manage. When I lit the pile, it went up with such force that some of the splashed gasoline was propelled from the flame and caught the nearby grass. My foot, I'm afraid, was also a victim of the explosion.
It was weird, though. It wasn't like you might imagine. There were no fireworks or grand plumes of flame.
I lit the lighter wand and there was a resounding BOOM and WHOOOSH as the vapors caught. I guess I was somewhat prepared for it because I instantly closed my eyes. Good thing, too, since I'm missing half of my eyelashes. The next few seconds are a blur of stumbling backwards in the perpetual dance of trying to regain my balance. Of course, it usually ends up the same way despite your efforts with you landing hard on your backside. This time was no different and I lay on the grass for a moment focusing my thoughts to the pain in my burning legs to stave off the looming shock that threatened to wash over me as I struggled to catch the wind that had been knocked hard out of my lungs.
There were no thoughts of Stop, Drop, and roll. I'd done well enough to get back away from the flames and other than the burning sensation on my legs, there was no reason to believe that I was on fire. I am not usually a shorts wearing kind of guy, but had I been wearing pants that night I would most assuredly caught flame. Instead, I stood up and walked over to a patch of grass that had been struck with flaming petrol and stomped it out.
It wasn't until after my wife walked out and admired the fire and the thought of sitting outside with me watching the dancing flames that I took the time to survey the damage. My leg hair was burnt off to the follicles, my skin pink from the burn. It hurt when I walked or moved and my shoe seemed to agitate a burnt spot on my ankle. It wasn't until I walked inside and got a good look in the light that I noticed that the top layer of skin had apparently melted off.
Luckily, the bottom layer wasn't as bad as it could have been. I was quite fortunate to get away with such minor injuries. Next time I think I'll toss a lit object into the fire from a safer distance, rather than attempting to light it so close. Lesson learned. :)