#drunkenrant

I do not know the booming silence that some know all too well. I am fortunate enough to hear the relentless chirping of birds in the early moments of dawn and the, ferocious whistle that follows a perfectly aimed curve ball. In fact, i’ve been blessed with hearing comparable to a clever cat. To put it in perspective for you, I can (literally) hear my adolescent tone deaf neighbor’s conversation with herself. A mighty distance stands between my bedroom and hers, on top of her conversation being nauseating and puberty-y so that it couldn’t have possibly been created within the walls of my sprinting imagination. I couldn’t have even imagined shit this stupid. I digress, I am so very gifted and fortunate to bear this bitter sweet super human hearing ability, for I can hear the leaves of autumn skipping along through the cracks between tree trunks and smell the spicy, stinging scent of burning leaves, bonfires, and fall.

I am blessed in areas of great variety, however, I must for a brief moment vent and perhaps even complain.

Love would be the feeling i’d experience upon the first morning my eyes open and focus on the clock planted 4 inches from my nose. The pure shock once the absence of blur became real. The little things such as seeing the facial features, or expressions on the faces of people who wake me up before I can find my glasses. I can’t even imagine what I must look like, but then I remember the reaction they all share. It’s not hard to spot, my blindness. Now, i’m not blind. However, I must look like a helpless eye wanderer searching for my cane of sight and glass. They always find my glasses, and hand them to me. Always. I want to concentrate during a scary movie, sporting event, or video game. I don’t want to fight the battle between watering eyes and dry eyes, nor the pain from the adventuring contact lenses including the optimal accuracy in regards to timing out odds. I’ve learned to always avoid contact lenses if my sight is important for the activity involved. Sounds dumb because contacts are SUPPOSED to be easier, more convenient, and clear. Well, not if you’re me. If you’re me, you are fucked. Preaching to the wrong choir, wrong church, wrong religion and just flat out wrong in every fucking way, wrong.

I have an oddly shaped eye ball. It’s my left one, in combination with my worst. I have a history of eye problems within my family tree. The contacts which fit over my oddly shaped lackluster eye balls are fucking incredibe. For an hour. Once the buzz wears off from the newfound clarity of the world around me, I notice that my blinking is becoming painful.

Though it feels like particles of sand stuck in my eyelids, there isn’t really anything there but a oddly shaped contact. That’s the thing about odd shapes, they don’t fit other odd shapes.

So, I settle for a downgrade in clarity in exchange for harmless blinking. And squinting, like the little kid who doesn’t want to get glasses yet.

I wanted glasses, I couldn’t see for shit and not knowing any better option, I adapted and began to rely on my other senses to make up for the loss of one.

I could not tell you what color surrounds the light switch in my bathroom. I could, however, tell you that it is physically located opposite to the small gap between the bathroom frame, to the linen closet’s wooden frame. The switch is backwards, and cold like the tile floor. To avoid the loud creaking noises, step closest to sink. In case of power outage, note the paces needed from threshold to toilet seat. That number is 3, no more or less, if you run into the enormously heavy wooden door you have gone too far. But not by much. Also be aware of the carpet surrounding the immediate threshold, it is not a place for a foot in the still, quiet night.

Of course i’ve pondered thoughts of lasik surgery, and prevailing towards the perfect brand, style, doctor, office, timezone necessary for my eyes to work properly. I’m not even asking for perfectly, just properly.

The light show from hell begins if my journey takes me into the darkness, wearing my glasses. The slight difference in strength apparently is an unintentional game of Russian roulette every time my absent mind forgets to poke myself with tiny slimy bowl shaped lenses. Unaware of any extension in plans, driving through headlights is a time far from the middle of the day my focus resides in.

Every time, I can almost hear the Worst Case Scenario Fairy whispering in my ear, “Gotcha bitch. You need your GPS? Oh, you also need to check out the LASER LIGHT SHOW GOING ON AROUND YOU. EXCEPT THE LASERS AREN’T HARMLESS, THEY ARE ATTACHED TO MAN MADE MOTORIZED VEHICLES IN OPERATION BY MAN MADE MEN. DON’T CROSS THE STREAMS. REAL TALK.”

Oh, you need to know when the turn is coming up, don’t you? The turn you have missed upwards of 4 times? BOOM. BRIGHTS INITIATED. NO TIME TO GLANCE AT YOUR GPS. AAAAAANNNNND yes, missed the turn again.