I fucking did it; I revived my Sansa! It took me over two weeks, but it happened, and I’m glad that I’m so persistent.
Ahh! One more thing off my mind–I haven’t focused much since I got my license (like I said I would…oops) but I think I’m getting there. It is taking more time than it should, but eventually it’ll happen. I cleared some of the crap on my desk this morning at 6:30 (don’t ask).
So! Thanksgiving has come and gone, and everyone’s gearing up for Christmas (except me; I don’t do Thanksgiving, either). Time fucking flies, it’s terrifying.
Ooh, update on my eye: the ulcer’s gone. I went back to the eye doctor on Wednesday, and the infection was completely gone. The white dot is still there, though it’s fading little by little. To be honest, I really don’t care whether it stays or goes.
Wee! This morning I found a mosquito in my room. It was lying on the pillow next to mine–dead.
Today isn’t over yet but I’ve learned my fair share of lessons. I switched to CIBA’s Night & Day contacts about two months ago, when my eye doctor expressed horror at the idea of me wearing my contacts for over twelve hours a day. For those of you who aren’t familiar, CIBA boasts these lenses’ ability to be worn “for up to 30 nights and days of continuous wear!” And, “That’s right—Stop the never-ending routine of removing and cleaning your contacts (for up to a month).” Outrageous? I KNOW! But settle down, these lenses are FDA-approved for such practice.
Now, I’m a curious person. I knew that, you knew that, everybody knew that. I somehow got the idea into my head that I was going to wear the lenses for thirty nights and days. It’s FDA-approved! CIBA says it’s safe! Why the hell not!
So I started wearing the lenses for seven consecutive nights and days. So far so good, I took the lenses out for two days to give my eyes a rest. “I’m so smart,” I thought, “I’m going to give my eyes some time to get used to this.” Next up, twenty one days. I didn’t mean to tag on that additional week, but eh, what the hell. They weren’t bothering me after two weeks, so why touch them? At that point, I had used the lenses for about a month and so I threw them out.
I opened a new pair of lenses on November 5. I decided not to take a break; this turned out to be a big mistake. As of yesterday, everything was fine. As of 7am today, everything was fine. But I woke up again four hours later with an almost-throbbing pain in my left eye. I jolted out of bed and took a look in the mirror to find my left eye watery and bloodshot. I immediately took out my contacts and checked it out again–that’s when I noticed a small white dot on my cornea, above the pupil.
What goes through one’s head upon such a discovery? “Shit, shit, SHIT! Fuck, I knew I should have taken them out this weekend.” And indeed I knew. I knew, but I didn’t do it. My mom even called on Friday, telling me that I had left my contact lens case behind. I spent the next couple of hours online and on the phone, seeking some assistance. I frantically called doctors, health centers, emergency rooms, looking to assess the urgency of the situation at hand. Humans, in typical fashion, were not helpful, but with the help of my trusty computer I read all about corneal ulcers. Scary shit, I tell you.
You see, my problem wasn’t whether or not to seek help. My problem was when to seek help. I have a doctor’s appointment at one of the health centers in the city on Wednesday morning; the same health center only accepts walk-ins at 7:30am daily. My two free options were to wait until 7:30am tomorrow, or go to my appointment at 8:15am on Wednesday. Another option–the one that made the most sense–was to see a private eye doctor. “It’s gonna be at least $140.” Fine. It’s my eye, I’m scared, I don’t want to wait. I made the call at 1pm; my appointment was for 1:30pm. SCORE.
A corneal ulcer. Just as I suspected. “It’s a tiny little one,” he said. “I’m going to give you some drops and in a few days, a week at most, you’ll be as good as new.”
The visit cost me $75. Here’s the kicker: “This is why we tell our patients to not sleep with their lenses on.” Yes doctor, thank you doctor, goodbye doctor.
It’s FDA-approved! CIBA says it’s safe! If they told me to jump off a cliff I’d probably do it!
These drops cost some serious money, too. Almost $50 for a 5ml bottle. Fucking shoot me. In the eye.
Lessons learned? Many.
First, not everything that’s FDA-approved and certified safe IS safe all the time. There is a way to hurt yourself and/or others with EVERYTHING.
Second, if it sounds like a bad idea, it probably is. Especially if you don’t have health insurance.
Third, listen to your doctor. It may be your body, but they do know better.
Fourth, if there’s one thing in your body that you don’t want to fuck with, it’s probably your eyes. No matter how small, any problem concerning your eyes should be checked out as soon as possible.
The most that anyone has ever told me about lens wear-related problems was something about corneal neovascularization. -5 for me, for not having looked into this further.
I let my curiosity get in the way of thinking things through clearly–I guess being a moron didn’t help, either. -20 for being a dumb ass.
It’s FDA-approved! CIBA says it’s safe! What’s the worst that could happen! -100; a mild case of the worst did happen.
Finally, -57,929 zillions for experimenting with my eyes.
I’m a new woman! complete with a new age and a driver’s license. That’s right, fools; I took the road test this morning and I passed. One more weight off my shoulders! Maybe now I’ll be able to focus on more important things.
During a meal, good conversation alone is enough to fill you up.
I’d write more extensively, but I’ve got nothing else to say.
I’ve finally beaten procrastination, though I wish it were in a more productive aspect of my life. I was all talk and no walk about hobbies for a while, but that all changed on Wednesday afternoon when I walked into Beadworks, determined to buy myself a pair of round nose pliers, some pretty beads, and various other parts. Not feeling particularly creative or inspired, I wandered around the store for a good half hour before finally buying the necessary pliers and what is now three pairs of earrings. I’d post some pictures, but the quality’s particularly lousy tonight; what the fuck, WordPress?
At any rate, I’m starting with the easier stuff and moving on to more complex projects in a while. As with anything, it was very difficult to start but once I assembled the first pair, ideas began to hit me. Should anything change drastically, I’ll be sure to update.
I think either WordPress or Firefox is being an asshole tonight. Or it could just be my computer, which I suppose could use a nice reboot.
Lil’ Monsta did it again; the blue wheel lights up but the screen refuses to turn on. Of course, I can’t switch to recovery mode for some obscure reason. Or rather, I did it again…yep, I dropped it–this is one of the things I was referring to in my previous entry. Speaking of the previous entry–the following night I spilled rice all over the kitchen floor and I fell up the stairs (yeah, UP the fucking stairs). This evening, I got a cramp in my left calf while at the gym. This week just loves me!
There are certain things that one should always be on top of: keeping the bedroom clean, emptying the trash, updating virus definitions on the computer, alphabetizing books… Somehow I always manage to find the most inappropriate times to get those things done; tonight, it’s ridding my desk of clutter. As a bonus, I might add to my walls these awesome artsy-fartsy postcards that I got during First Friday.
2:14am. I don’t know why I do this. Most of the time it’s completely automatic; I don’t usually make a conscious effort to stay up until the wee hours of the morning so that I can embellish my walls with a few new things. But sometimes, I’m deliberately putting off sleep–and if that happens, it’s because I had a bad dream the previous night. Last night, it was something awful about a remote-controlled car sans remote; it was out of control and very aggressive. It kept hitting a bunch of us–including a person in a wheelchair–from the back as we were walking. In real life, one could just disable this toy by destroying it, but in the dream it was increasingly creepy. Ever try to pull yourself out of a bad dream? Painful, isn’t it? At the very least it’s highly unpleasant.
Bottom line is–after careful consideration–Me: 1, Procrastination: 6,773,257.
This is another one of those weeks where everything turns to shit. I’ve been losing things, breaking things, forgetting things, missing things, dropping things which in turn causes them to malfunction… and it’s only Tuesday. I wish people would make their kids shut the fuck up on the train/subway/bus/whatever public transportation I happen to be taking.
And please don’t repeat every single sentence your kid utters; it’s annoying and you sound like an asshole doing it.
Friends and/or hot cocoa would have been nice today after work; I had neither.
I’ve been meaning to blog for a while now but somehow never got around to doing it; I forget, I’m too tired, I’m lazy… I mean, shit happens. At any rate, I won’t be making this a pointless entry, nor will it be another one of those bitch-posts; a decent update is in order.
Driving’s been great fun so far; I’ve had four lessons to this date, for a grand total of six hours. Since I last talked about my driving lessons, I learned how to parallel park and drive on the highway. This last time felt very natural, and I didn’t fuck up at all, so I don’t know what everyone’s talking about when they mention shoulders tightening up and being all tense and shit. I find the overall experience pretty thrilling. Three more lessons and then, the road test. I suppose I’ll update the day before that, which also happens to be…my birthday. Awesome.
Ay! Last time I blogged, I forgot to talk about Homecoming weekend, which was most exciting. Chuck and Susan came to Philly for the occasion–the latter stayed with me, the former crashed in a friend’s posh apartment in Rittenhouse–and the festivities on campus were…impressive, I guess that’d be the right word.
That Friday evening I met up with Suz and Gus for food + beer at La Terrasse (we had originally planned for New Deck but the place was crazy packed–it’s a bit too fratty at night for my taste anyway) and it was delicious; I think it might have been the first time anyone cooked my meat just right–medium rare–in this country (the second time was this past weekend, more on that later).
Saturday was spent mostly on campus with part of the gang at the Engineering post-game reception, which included free food, beer, and a very annoying in-your-face photographer. Apparently the game was lame and we lost–whatever, I don’t follow football. We headed to Mad 4 Mex because that’s where all the cool kids were: crazy specials on cheap ass food, margaritas, and loud frat-worthy music = gigantic crowd of too-cool-for-schools with their bug-eye shades, preppy gear, and cigarettes, and wannabes, similarly with their bug-eye shades, preppy gear, and cigarettes; in this type of setting, being able to tell the difference between these two breeds is just a matter of actually knowing who’s who. Sadly, they’re both as douchy as one can be and it’s virtually impossible to walk more than two steps on campus without encountering a member of either clan. More shit waited for us at 6pm on the Green, where we all loaded up on beer and free food–admittedly a dumbass move on our part, seeing as we had reservations with Nodding Head at 8pm. Despite our collective fullness, we each ordered a full-blown motherfucking meal–all eleven of us. (Un)fortunately, Gus’ rib appetizer order came out wrong, and so he ended up receiving two huge stacks of ribs (the entree version) in addition to the fish & chips–which were to be shared with me, who had ordered the quiche du jour as an appetizer. Tommy, who had stuffed down something like three hot dogs, ordered a burger. Susan somehow got stuck with six+ hush puppies–I’m not sure what happened to us all that night, but I’m fairly sure we’re not normally that stupid. Add some beer to that, and we were set to go to Capogiro for some gelato. Thankfully we’re not THAT dumb, and those of us who couldn’t breathe anymore, let alone walk, decided against what would have been a delicious-but-regrettable treat.
Sunday wasn’t that interesting, so I’ll spare you the details. I did discover Saturday night that the cups Penn used to serve beer glow in the dark. Also, on our way to catch the train home that same night, Susan and I spotted twentysomething parking garage attendants jogging/running their asses off for quite a while. The best was that they weren’t all together; we saw them trickling in–in pairs, groups of three, or solo. It was hilarious, and if I had laughed just a little bit more I would have presented the streets of Center City with my lovely dinner.
I recently discovered Nouvelle Vague, a French new wave group that does mostly (if not only) covers of new wave(hence the name) and punk stuff. It’s good stuff; give it a listen.
This past Friday was First Friday and Iris came to town. This weekend also happened to be Parents’ Weekend at Penn, so Locust Walk was graced with the presence of artisans and jewelry makers and all sorts of arts & crafts goodness. After grabbing a few stickers and business cards, we headed down to South Street to check out Beadworks because I had decided to start some real hobbies (as mentioned in the previous entry). We got there about half an hour before closing time, so I found it very difficult to figure out what I wanted exactly. Thus, we left the store happy but empty handed. Onward to First Friday!
We visited some of our favorite galleries but didn’t bother going into F.U.E.L., where Red Bull was having its “Art of Can” exhibition. 1) It was too damn cold to be standing in line outside like it was a fucking nightclub, and 2) we saw it as being just another one of their marketing schemes. Plus, we had seen everything online already. And Red Bull tastes like piss on crack.
We tried to hit up Monk’s afterwards, but it was Friday night and well, it was ball-busting full. We were hungry and wanted to get home at a decent hour, so we opted for Nodding Head–which was equally packed. We tried a smaller, lower-key bar next door, but there were no tables available. We had passed The Happy Rooster earlier, and I mentioned then that it should be our last resort. As fate would have it, we ended up at the happy cock. And it was good.
Susan had told me that it was a different crowd–an older crowd. I saw it first-hand when we got there–men in suits, women drinking wine, a much quieter setting and a much tighter place. I liked it, and so did Iris, so we placed our orders–turkey ruben and Yuengling for her, steak frites and Bass for me–and chatted away. That’s when I got my meat served the right way for the second time in this country; now I know where to eat if I don’t want to be disappointed. We shared a piece of chocolate-espresso pecan pie for dessert, and on our way we were.
I’ve rambled enough for now. It’s 3:45am and I’ve got a meeting at work tomorrow, so I will leave you with a few words of wisdom: do NOT eat banana-flavored Laffy Taffy; it tastes like banana-flavored toothpaste (yes, I am unfortunate enough to know what that tastes like), and the jokes on the wrappers aren’t even funny.
They’re the cutest prickly things I’ve ever owned. I have yet to find names for them, but I was originally thinking about “Weebl” and “Bob” (from Weebl & Bob). Cute names for cute things, no?
Weebl and Bob (we’ll call them that for now; you decide which one’s which) are the closest things to pets at the moment. Mom and I were considering betta fish (it’s about time, our respective bettas passed away a while ago now) but–eh, you’ve gotta feed’em and change their water and blah blah blah… A royal pain in the ass if you ask me–for now at least.
My Lil’ Monsta gave me a lil’ scare the other day when it suddenly stopped working…after I dropped it! The blue wheel lit up when I tried to turn it on, but the screen remained dark. I tried accessing recovery mode, looked for answers online, but all was in vain. Until tonight! I decided to give it one more try before calling the SanDisk hotline (help desk technical support thing, if that’s what you want to call it) and lo and behold! It turned on! I somehow managed to enter recovery mode, but then it started giving me shit so I disconnected its ass from my computer. Now it’s decided that it would turn on and stay on, so it’s happily charging. How capricious! Sigh, technology.
I’ve decided (in the last twenty four hours) that I will take up a hobby–a real one, not one of the bullshit hobbies like “watching movies” and “listening to music.” No. I’m already doing that on a daily basis, and believe when I say that, while those are two very entertaining activities and very efficient at passing time pleasantly, they are by no means as satisfying as arts and crafts, or playing a sport (I do go to the gym three+ times per week, but that doesn’t count).
So! I think I will start making bracelets. With yarn. I’m talking quasi-mass production of yarn-made bracelets here. Then maybe I’ll try my hand at jewelry-making, perfect my hand-sewing, refine my knitting… so much to be done, so little time!
Oh, and I suppose I ought to get a job somehow. Something more reliable and permanent than, say, my current gig (that I’ve had since my freshman year in college). I already know where I want to apply (there’s only one job I’m interested in at the moment) but my resume is not ready. NOT. READY. I feel like it’s got a long way to go (because I like things to be perfect) but I think it’s just about done. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore; forgive me, it’s late. I just have to sort out some minor details in my ‘work experience’ section, and that’ll be it. I’ve even got my e-mail “cover letter” crafted.
After that, I guess I should move on to finish my statement of purpose for school next year. I have my mind set on this, so I’d better not fuck it up, but something in the back of my mind keeps telling me that I’m still not certain. I don’t know, do I really want to go that way? Sounds ideal, really. Everyone says so. My mom says so. I think I say so as well. I probably need to sleep on that–I’ll do that in a minute.
I believe I also wanted to bitch about people on the train. Please, if you’re not gonna get off at the next stop, or even at the stop after next, don’t stand in front of the doors like you’re about to jet out of the car. Just sit your ass down; there’s no shortage of seats. Sit. Your ass. DOWN.
I’d better hit the hay now if I want to get up early and watch Quantum Leap tomorrow morning.