Skip to main content

4evah 4eyes.

I've been a life long dork, in case you hadn't noticed. But I've always felt like something's been missing from my stereotype....


And, finally, I'm gonna get some. In a couple weeks, I'll be complete. I just don't know if I can wait that long.

I am a class 5 nerd. Whatever that means. Most people seem to realize that within the first 5 minutes of talking to me. I make up for it, I hope, with humor.

But something's been missing my whole life, something I've yearned for, needed in order to feel complete.

So when the optometrist told me "You're pretty much destined to wear glasses.", my heart skipped a beat, and I readily replied "Awesome!".

I've always known I was a little near sighted, but apparently that's not even the main problem for me. I have astigmatism in both eyes--meaning the lens are imperfectly shaped, distorting the focal points and my vision overall.

My glasses will compensate for this without a problem. Only thing is, everything's going to look a little...odd for the first couple of days while my brain "adapts" to seeing good. This is normal, and not in itself a problem. All I have to do is stick it out--keep wearing the glasses until I've adjusted.

Funny thing, though, is if I stop wearing my glasses after my brain's figured itself out, I'll have the reverse side of that experience. Everything will look weird again as my brain tries to re-adapt to trying to see without them glasses.

So basically, "destined to wear glasses" :D

I'm not even sure why I'm so excited. I mean, obviously I need to come off as even cooler and smarter than I already am; 5 minutes is way too long for people to realize this when they meet me. Also, I'm simply not cool or smart enough seeming on my, naturally. Glasses are for cool kids, see.

I've also been frustrated recently as I've realized all the things I have trouble seeing that everyone hasn't a problem with. Things that shouldn't be hard to make out, like signs in subway stations or billboards. Those sort of things that are supposed to be readable, even from a distance.

And now I'm more excited than ever. You know how at the end of the session, the doctor guy puts together a bunch of lenses on a lil faux-glasses thing and puts it over your eyes to make sure the prescription will look, right?

My first response when he did that--"Holy shit, the world exists!" So much detail. Lines and shapes everywhere.

Sure, I was always aware of all that, at least generally. I'm not that blind. Things have always had shapes and lines and stuff. But I never knew how much sharper, clearer, crisper they could be. I've probably had this astigmatism my whole life, distorting my vision the entire while.

And now I'm jonesing for it, man. I need my fix--my vision fix. The world was just so addictively clearer. More won't be enough. It's like I've never really seen the world before (which I guess I hadn't) and now I'm hooked on it.

But now I've got to wait 2 weeks for Zenni Optical to send them to me. Grr! I want them now! :D

I don't think I'll have any trouble getting through that "odd" adapting phase. I might have trouble remembering to take off my glasses more than anything. And I'm definitely cool with that.


Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Sarracenia 'Palmerpink.'

So I posted the other day about my rekindled carnivorous plant obsession—I mean, hobby. I mentioned, in passing, that I had "discovered" a possible cultivar, so here's the lowdown on what that means and what I meant.

The term "cultivar" is short for "cultivated variety," and signifies that a particular plant is so desirable and interesting that people want exact copies of it rather than simply seed from it. Some famous American pitcher plant (Sarracenia) cultivars include the legendary Adrian Slack, the massive Leah Wilkerson, and the classic Judith Hindle.

Part of how these come about is that, unlike horses x donkeys = mules and certain other hybrids, Sarracenia hybrids aren't sterile and can be crossed and recrossed without limit. Further, random chance can create crazy combinations of genes such that even hybrids between the same species—heck, even the same parents—can demonstrate quite the variety. More on that elsewhere.

Depending on how easy…