My brother’s wife had the baby, 6 pounds fifteen ounces. My sister originally told me just fifteen ounces, and it took a second to hunt her back down after the info percolated past my congratulations to my brain (she had control of the phone), s’just there wan’t much of a way, I thought, that the kid would be under a pound when it was full term, and the picture looked t’ve in ruddy good health, so, yeah. Confusion. Got worried for a few, actually, on the brief possibility; I mean, fifteen ounces? Lord have mercy, I was only 2 pounds 3 oz and lost weight in the incubator, I’d rather not contemplate on less than a pound to start out with. But yes! The kids’ here and kicking, so all’s well ^.^
Haven’t received any phone calls about the eye appointment, s’been a week and a day and she said to give it a 2 week time span before calling her back if no one gets a hold of me. Knock on wood I suppose, the few things I’ve managed to find that fit said eye symptom don’t look good. Figures that no eye pain associated w/vision loss would be a bad sign. But on the upside, I got a shiny rock as a Christmas gift, saw ma squirrel it away. <3 rocks.
The woman from visual services showed t’day. She said she’d get in contact with a low vision doctor and have them call me to schedual an appt., if I don’t hear from them in two weeks to call her. Apparently she knows of one in Mansfield. Filled out paperwork, tried a short visual field test. Visual field sucks, as it turns out. Left eye was expected, isn’t much of anything there, but the right one was a bit of a surprise, thought I had more than that. I know I have to turn fully before I can see something, but ffs, still, you’d think it was supposed to be better than that since the eye wasn’t impeded when I was younger. Which worries me that I answered wrong. You’d think it’s a simple thing, holding your hand out to the side of your head and bringing your arm forward in an arc. You’re supposed to say when you can see it, apparently. That means when you can recognize it as an object, right? I can see the lower part of my arm decently I think, but the hand – no. It’s not really there for a while, s’discerning. Although it does explain why I keep hitting my head on the top cupboards. In other news, my pc is still ill, been too chickenshit to try and fix it. I think I’ll just wipe and reinstall the disks, that way I don’t fuck up the hard drive by accident. Also, we’ve three music videos for you today, theyve been stuck in my head.
Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo
The video’s awesome, s’a mix of ‘The Corpse Bride’ and ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’
Don’t Pay the Ferryman – Chris De Burgh
And then there’s Barstool by Gary Jules, finally found it on UTube. Reminds me a bit of, well, a good percentage of cirumstances people I know. among other experiences.
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane.
-Blind Melon - "No Rain'
“People who claim that they are evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. It’s people who claim that they are good, or anything better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of.”
"I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don't even invite me."
-Dave Barry
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"Life without pleasure - without spontaneity and playfulness, sexuality and sensuality, aesthetic experience, surprise, excitement, ecstasy - is a kind of death. People deprived of pleasure don’t get kinder and gentler, but meaner and nastier.”
"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
- Oscar Wilde
This is your life. Good to the last drop. Doesn't get any better than this. This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time. This isn't a seminar, this isn't a weekend retreat.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost heap. We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world.
You are not your bank account.
You are not the clothes you wear.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your grande latte.
You are not the car you drive.
You are not your fucking khakis.
This is your life. Doesn't get any better than this. And it's ending one minute at a time.