Another bit of my interesting brain-weird has to do with glasses. I'm mildly nearsighted. Not very much -- just enough to annoy me. I can't see street signs at the end of the block and I lean in a few inches to use the computer. Normally I wear contact lenses, which are actually nineteen different kinds of awesome. I'm one of those lucky people who can tolerate extended-wear hydrogel contacts, which means that I get to stick them to the fronts of my eyeballs and then forget about them for a month at a time. Laypersons like to shriek in horror when I say that and try to tell my that my eyes are going to shrivel up and fall out, but I always have to specify that I want overnight lenses when I get a checkup because the doctor can't tell, so I'm thinking I'm doing okay.

Very rarely do I have any issues with this. I have more problems with dryness and weird sensations with them out, in fact; I've been wearing various kinds of bionic eyeballs since I was fourteen, and I seem to have adapted, to the point where I can feel myself blink when I have no lenses in. Tonight I managed to get an eyelash stuck under one, or something like that, which forced me to pinch the lens out in order to make the agony stop. I can't function with only one lens in -- some people can, but I have no dominant eye, and my brain refuses to just discard one of two inputs so I can walk straight -- so out came the other one as well.

I do own glasses. My prescription hasn't changed in years, so they're current. I hate them. Prior to contact lenses, I only put the glasses on when I was sitting dead still and needed to see a chalkboard, and I just went blind-ish most of the time. After contact lenses, on the rare occasions when I can't just remove my lenses before bed and then adhere a new pair when I wake up in the morning, I only put them on when I'm sitting dead still at a computer, and I still go blind-ish most of the time.

The reason I hate them is that glasses make me seasick. The optometrist always tells me that if I wore them more I'd get used to them. The optometrist doesn't know it, but he's a filthy liar. I've never gotten used to them. I've had glasses since I was ten and I'm thirty-one now; if it hasn't happened by now, it's simply not going to. It's one of those things my brain refuses to do, like make sense of a guitar. You know those perception experiments, where they put a subject in goggles that turn their view of the world upside down, and then they stumble around for maybe an hour and then magically learn how to navigate just like normal? Yeah, no. I'm a fairly R-rated person to begin with and I know the things you shout when you drop a hammer on your foot in about a dozen different languages. Put those goggles on me and three days later I'd still be whacking into furniture and swearing like an overcaffeinated Tourette's patient.

Fortunately, I'm an adult now. I can solve the problem of not being able to move my own head without the edges of the world looking like a cheap flashback video effect by the convenient adult method of getting hammered. I don't have any decent drugs on me at the moment, but David left some random liquor behind, and I have nothing to do tomorrow. So drunk it jolly well shall be.

I'll be sitting here tonight killing off the rest of the rum and filling in the gaps in my blog while either keeping my head extremely still, or leaning in so far the laptop starts to complain I'm violating its personal space.

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