This is my site. It's not yours. If it was yours, I probably wouldn't be writing in it. Or at least not as much. And you'd probably be the protagonist, not me.
This site contains no nudity. You should be grateful for that, after seeing how many home movies I have here. This site does, however, contain a fair amount of profanity, especially the blog entries. I could go back and change everything to give the site a more family-friendly rating but I don't fucking want to.
So, if you're under 18 years old, then you should leave this site, and get off my lawn. If you're an adult, yet some kind of pansy who's offended by adult language in a personal blog, it would probably be a good idea for you to leave also.
If you're too horrified to look away, however, I invite you to stick around and see what my little corner of the Internet has to offer.
That fact is that, no matter how much I protest, the pain is nearly gone.
WowOkay, NOW I remember.BrrrAl Gore and his global warming can suck my dick.AlsoI didn't forget this one, either.NoteNote to self: upgrade Santa's Little Helper from good to yummy.OuchI seem to have slept on my neck last night. Now I can't turn it to the right. So that's awesome. I hope no assassin comes at me from the right side, or I'm doomed.
Not much of an entry here, but an entry nevertheless.
I had a goal this past week. I might have failed. I certainly didn't accomplish as much as I'd wanted. I got to about 50% of my goal. That was on Friday.
What do you do, when it's been so long that it's nothing more than a distant memory? Not even that, really. More like a fiction.
Once upon a time, I was a writer of sorts.
Now it's been months. So much has happened. Even more has not happened. And here I sit, in this chair. And here my words sit, inside my head. Struggling to make their way down my arms and out my fingers.
A recap of the last several months? I don't think so. Not yet, not all at once. Maybe tidbits every now and then. Maybe never.
I got my last check from the publisher today. That's twelve stories I've written but never read. A paltry sum I've received, but still more than a lot of writers of sorts manage. I think I was just in the right place, and the right frame of mind, at the right time.
My goal now, were I to be so bold as to state a goal, would be to write in this journal more often. Once per day should be doable, but once per week is probably more likely for now. I'm starting over, you see. Or trying to start over.
This was my outlet for a long time. Then, for even longer, it was my voice, as I screamed of my pain. Now, now I'm not sure what it's supposed to be. I just know that I miss it. I miss this, this sound of fingers tap-tap-tapping on my keyboard as my mind empties onto my screen.
Maybe that's all this will be now. A sedative for my mind and my heart. A calming for my soul.
It's impossible not to wonder, at this late hour on this late date, though wondering is bad stupid pointless.
What will happen to me in the next few days? What will happen to me in the next few hours? What what what what?
Context changes once again.
Will the passion that's been sucked from me for so long be suddenly free to linger, to motivate, to perhaps even inspire? Might I write again of the thoughts feelings impulses obsessions compulsions that continue to consume me?
Everyone on Earth, were you to poll them, would say that this is a good thing, this change. Everyone on Earth would be wrong, though. This is the worst thing.
It's empty now. None of my stuff remains, or hers, or ours. There's just a bed, more like a little cot, out in the middle of the living room. Something for the tenants after me or maybe even for the tenants yet to come. Furnished apartment, the ad could say, and it wouldn't be completely lying.
I hate liars, so I approve, I suppose.
I'd just been bored at home. Too bored all the time, so I came here to, I dunno, see smell feel the place. To see what it's like, to try to belong, or at least remember belonging.
My plan fails, though. My mind has failed. I only remember the emptiness that I see around me.
Places often seem so small when you return after a long absence, but this place echoes too much with its bare walls and its empty rooms. It seems huge.
What I want to write is that I did everything and said everything and showed everything I could, to show both how I felt and what kind of person I was.
I tried my absolute best, but I failed.
I would like it if this was the last time I wrote about this.
I just got back from another routine checkup at the lasik place.
My vision tested at 20/15 in my right (treated) eye.
They're also seeing no signs of any epitheliol in-growth. I've been put on an as-needed basis for any future visits. I'm not expecting any reason to go back, except maybe in a year or two, to have them correct my left eye for seeing up close.
Man, I really suck at this blogging thing now. Or maybe I don't even suck. You have to do something to suck at it.
March 2nd was my one-year anniversary of getting lasik in my right eye. Then, of course, I had an "enhancement" in early November. That's what they call it when the first round doesn't work so they try again. An "enhancement."
One other fun thing that I totally didn't even write about was the epithelial in-growth I had. That was when a bunch of cells that were supposed to be on the outside of my eye decided to spread to underneath my flap. This was made possible because the doctor had accidentally scratched my flap when he pried it up to do the "enhancement."
The main symptom from this was a fairly severe halo effect in the upper-left part of my right eye's vision. It made Christmas trees look really pretty.
I had the in-growth taken care of in early January. That procedure was much like the last one, except that (a) there was no laser, and (b) the doctor scraped my eyeball and the inside of my flap for a long time, to clear out all the renegade cells, then I had to wear a bandage lens for a week.
Since then, my vision has been fantastic. Just a smidgen worse than I'd been able to see with my glasses before all this lasik stuff started. I'm completely happy and satisfied with the outcome and, despite the complications that I had, I'd still recommend it to anyone wanting to rid themselves of glasses.
How about we don't blame the media, or movies, or video games, or gun laws, or his family, or society, or even his alleged mental illness? How about we blame the crazy asshole himself?
Shifting the blame often ends up sounding an awful lot like making excuses, and I don't think people really want to do that. Not for this fucker.
I know that people want to make sense of it all, to try to understand why he did what he did, but I think that Occam's razor applies in this case. This guy was a monster. Period. What he did was horrific. But he did it.
Blame him. There are no so-called mitigating circumstances that could ever come close to explaining the killing of those innocent children. So don't even try.
Writing this Tuesday morning. All of the vision in my right eye is very foggy and hazy. Like trying to see while taking a shower or something.
There's no irritation, so that's good. Now I guess it's just a matter of being patient, using my prescription drops, using my non-prescription artificial tears, and waiting for my eye to stabilize.
I have patience.
Sunday things were actually okay. I even went to stupid Jack's and shot some pool for a while. I sucked, but at least I shot some. I saw ghost balls, but they were focused.
Yesterday and today, blurriness and haziness have been the main theme of my vision. I don't remember the haziness from the first time around, so it's a little more disconcerting than the blurriness. I still expect everything to be okay within the next several weeks. I hope.
One other thing that's definitely new is that I'm super-sensitive to light. Even the lights here in my building at work seem too bright. I'm almost constantly squinting. I might go get my sunglasses from my truck.
Saturday morning I had to drive back to the eye place for a checkup. I very seriously considered calling CornerGirl to come and drive me. I also even caught myself wishing that LaptopGirl and I were still close so she could drive me. I was in an incredible amount of pain, and my right eye was useless for seeing.
But I drove myself, and somehow I made it to the place without killing myself or anyone else. They had me sit in a chair at try to read letters on a chart. I could not read a single letter, not even the top line on the chart which consisted of just one big letter. The doctor looked at my eye and made a yuck face. Not really something you want your doctor to do. He then started trying to remove the bandage contact lens. This took about five minutes, and it was excruciating to me. The doctor said it was stuck to my eye because there was no moisture at all. I said that I'd been applying the eye drops about every five minutes for 24 hours.
Turns out that the bandage lens had prevented all moisture from reaching my eye, no matter how many times I tried to apply drops. To me, this seems like a bit of a design flaw.
So, to summarize, I'd had a flap ripped open on my eye, then I'd had a laser zap my eye, then I'd gone 24 hours without any moisture on my eye.
No fucking wonder it hurt like a motherfucker and was as red as a cherry tomato.
He finally got the bandage lens off, and there was immediate relief. He also squirted a bunch of artificial tears onto my eye, and there was even more relief. I actually began to suspect that I might live through this LASIK enhancement process.
He'd also put numbing drops onto my eye, and that numbness wore off by the time I got back home. And the pain and the itchiness returned with a vengeance. Every time I opened or closed my eye, it was like scratching it with a nail.
Saturday might even have been worse than Friday had been, at least at first. By Saturday evening, I was starting to detect a lessening of discomfort, and I was able to sleep for the rest of the night.