Opopanox, Home of the Arrogant Worm

Oh dear. I’ve just been conscripted to haul out the walk-in closet and find places for the junk, I mean, precious family hairlooms, since the space is directly under our much abused drooping stair. A bookshelf, a few puzzles, a bag of clothes for winter-wear I need to run through the wash and, well, there’s several hundred vhs tapes under there in stacks waste deep. (While I’m a bibliophile, my mother’s obsession isn’t nearly as benign, damnable moving pictures). They’ve a thin film of soot on the plastic covers from the old house, despite the bulk of ‘em being in storage at the time, so a wet rag will be needed. She was quite insistent on all of them being packed with a closeable cover, so the videos themselves should be as fine as when they were bought. Not sure what to do with them, she’s been meaning to give them away, but I can’t exactly stack them on the grass. Knock on our blocks’ doors, perhaps, most of ‘em have kids. I suggested donating to Salvo, but she didn’t like that idea as there’s currently too many. Most are Disney and child-safe movies, which she started collecting when I was around graduating year. So, um. Anyone want a Disney movie? I believe she has all of them.

Ha, shields came in today! I think they’re actually amber, better for distinguishing color. I was a bit afraid of the plum, honestly, since I recognize the signs by color/shape and plum really kills color distinction, and then there’s my painting and drawing, which was, to me, a bigger worry overall. They work pretty well, all together, (well, there’s a bit of sting when the sun sneaks through the top, but learning to look ahead might fix that. But when I get a new pair of glasses going to have to make sure the frames fit the damned shields. Smidge of a gap up top, too, which I aready mentioned, but unless you get the more expensive pair (instead of the basic, which is apparently what I qualified for), m’stuck with it.

On the upside, they’re impact resistent, so no worries on that front. Also got fited for …polarized sunglasses w/bifocals for outside, not sure how that’ll work yet, since you can’t try ‘em in the sun when they’re not yet made. If they fail, I s’pose I’ll just keep the shields on, but I’ve high hopes. Still debating on getting an extra pair of shields from Noir, though. Just in case. Fashion wise both shields and the outdoor glasses are …meh.

The shields are a bit large in the lenses, which is good, s’what I wanted/needed, but the side of the arm is …a bit hideous, looking like some sort of amber and black tortous shell swirly colored …thingie. And the outside glasses have some sort of small silver design on the side of the arm, (couldn’t find the right lense shape w/out some godawful design) so they’ll have a date with two medium-wide pieces of black electrician’s tape when they come home.

It’s…really odd being able to go outside without being blinded and forced to memorize your feet. Tomorrow, I get to walk to the post office for job info.

Anyway, asked him about said eye going out, he wrote down some info, asked about my blood pressure (S’far as I know, it’s fine) and …then the servers died and they couldn’t access their files, so I dunno anything else on that front w/the eyes. I’ve got the nicest note though, tells the DMV that I’m alright to drive during the daytime. Unlike the other Dr’s note ages ago, didn’t trust that guy since he wouldn’t listen. At least this one listens, s’a refreshing change. Although the combined vision was 20/70 when he checked it, and the left was actually clearer than the right, surprised the hell out of me, damned fluctuating vision, but it’s still in the ‘can drive’ range. I knew I should’ve kept that damn Dodge Omni, but no, sold it to the Garage for 25 bucks wayyyyy back when, since I figured I’d never be able to use it. Ma looked leary when she heard the driving news, but the Dr. – said – I could, and if’n I start nice and small and only drive where I’m really familiar with the roads, I might be able to tweak the depth perception and learn a bit of compensation for the space and …work my way around. I hope. S’pose I should get on getting that bus pass tomorrow, too, yesterday was filled with cookin’ and cleaning for Ma’s arrival.

-Edited to add; (and to break paragraphs, et cetera)

There was a period of ten or so minutes in there where I was close to panicking. (not including repetition the Fitter muttered to herself for reminders). The Fitter, an incredibly cheerful, bespectacled woman in her fifties (at a guess), took a look at the prescription specs the opthamologist gave her and asked me if I really needed such-and-such, and shouldn’t blah blah blah be enough? I assume this is because I’m 25, look around a decade younger (give or take a year or two depending) and assume Youth = Vitality & Health, instead of, say, in my forties or fifties where reading glasses, at a minimum, would be expected. Expectations of ability, I think, is the concept. I’ve got to say I didn’t expect the waffling from someone who’s supposed to make sure the frames fit my face properly. I told her I agreed with the doctor, as he seems to know what he’s doing and that the shields did indeed help inside, when I tried them back at the first appointment. She dithered, hummed and hawwed for a few and then …went to find the doctor herself, because it seems she didn’t agree that I could possibly need what’s been suggested and approved for. So, yes, a bit of panic. Why I thought the Fitter would miraculously change the opthamologist’s mind in a matter of minutes and leave me stranded I can certainly postulate on, but it would involve a lot of bitching that neither you (nor I, for that matter) really want to get going at this point in time.

At any rate, reminded that the piece of paper was indeed correct, the Fitter then did exemplary work throughout the process. She was quite good, other than the beginning fumble, and the Vision Place is very lucky to have her. She did ask, at the end, how exactly my eyes came to be the shining examples of Rather Weirdly Fucked that they are today, in which case I was stymed, and due to my gaping maw she rushed to assure she didn’t mean to be rude, which I attempted to squash with a “No, you’re fine, just not sure how to explain” (since it’s a rather lengthly tale all together) because while I know why the left sucks, the right is anyone’s and everyone’s guess.

Ma’s back from visiting my brother, it went swimmingly. She’s got a bunch of new picures, too – going to see about turning his kid’s pictures into a portrait for my brother. I go to pick out frames tomorrow, which …still a bit confused on that point. Our house stairs have ..fallen sometime today. You know, the stairs inside the house? One of the support beams broke or something, because the right side is now tilted radically downwards and you can see the lathes inside the wall. Yanked the left side down a bit too, though not – nearly – as badly. Perhaps when they come to fix the stairs they can finish fixing that damn tub that leaks into the living room – the seal is bad on it.

-Damn thing posted before I was done, hit the wrong button, I think.

Anyway, finishing up an incence burner, painting’s almost done. Need to bet more watercolors, some o’mine’re getting a bit dodgy. Only 3 more incence burners to go! Unfortunately, dunno what to put on the others.

Might as well update. Vision lady came over the day before, had an appointment. She called to say she was gonna be late by 45 minutes, (glad she called) but it turned out to be an hour and some odd minutes, so had to work around keeping an eye on the oven, since it got done before we were finished, and two of the cats were nosy as hell. Ron almost crawled into her purse during her investigation. Did a career assessment, in which I remembered and she found out I can’t do hypothetical scenarios (the ‘are you interested in —- versus the ‘can you do this/some of this’ kind). Changing the wording helped a bit, but not much – you can feel your mind sliding backward. Got it done, turns out I’m an analytical, precise bastard and scored …rather low on the social side of things in ability. Not for want of trying, but for understanding. Got the number to the EMTA buses for a pass and ‘mawd’ for a type of health nsurance, as long as I work for no less than minimum wage, regardless of number of hours. She suggested tutoring, which isn’t a bad idea, I work quite well with children.

She also read two of my poems, suggested sending one in to the newspaper (was about spring/summer) since it’s almost that time of the year. She was a bit surprised the writing was small, which I found amusing, as that was the finished poem and not the drafts. In other words, that was my Neat Handwriting. Which she had trouble with, since my neatest handwriting is just this side of chicken scratch, and I ended up helping her with the words, as she was reading aloud and all I had to do was insert the right word when she struggled. Thank whatever dieties were floating around at the time that my rote memory is excellent once it’s been nudged.

My cursive is neater, and much larger, but while everyone can read it (I think) I have trouble discerning it so I don’t use it unless it’s for a holiday card.

Anyway, v’got to go to the post office and newspaper office on Monday for ‘homework’ on job information and to get my foot in the door.

I ran across a mini video by Elizabeth Gilbert in my searching for writing tips (I’m a horrible procrastinator), and it struck a chord. Quite a few chords, really. She’s a novellist, which I’m not, though there is a work I’m s’posed to be writing with a friend who does his own comedy sketches. Ha. Ha. Ha. He’s also proficient in the fine, fine art of procrastination.

Anyway

I grew up with art. Not the kind where your parents take you to museums and libraries, but the kind you create yourself. Admittedly, I’ve a bit of an odd bringing-up that way, as the great bulk of people as children don’t identify with such a subject so thoroughly (as an example, I had three jobs that were on my wish list every year for ‘when I grow up’, and the other two were listed once in a blue moon in my whole thirteen years, after the ‘first choice’ (artist), since I consindered myself one at the time anyway. No variation, no change. You’d think I’d have more than a passing fancy eventually, though) and at the same time, do it well enough that that part of your identity is not only encouraged, but generally lauded by not only family and friends, people you’ve never met. There’s problems and advantages with the upbringing. I’d say narcissism, certainly borders on it in my descriptions, but I’m not sure it’s narcissistic to state fact. A disadvantage, and there are several, is that you might believe that your work is due to your own ‘genius’. Which isn’t a fallacy of mine, since I’ve figured for the longest time that the ability’s due to what contributed to my eyesight disadvantages. It does, however, still leave the “I can do this, why isn’t it – happening -” problem. Which Elizabeth talks very well on.

It’s a new concept for me, actually, what she discusses. Not the suffering and mental illness are needed for creativity, and that artistry leads to anguish, but the muses. There’s the catch-22 of money from art (or more probable lack thereof) = being able to live = suffering, but still, she has a point. Attributing the creative ghost, that thing that gives you your work without your struggling (that’s not quite what I mean, but I’m not sure how to put it). Myself, I get bits of poetry I’ve never heard float through my head, and most of the time there’s no pen and paper to catch it, or having whole paintings sit there through your mind, demanding physical representation. I usually miss those, the poetry lines, though I’ve gotten much beter at snagging the paintings.

But, she mentions an idea Tom Waits had, that I think would be interesting to try. Instead of rushing and panic and chaos, instead, suggest it come back later. but oh, those pits of despair she talks about are awfully familiar! I also really appreciated the

“listen, …you …thing, um, you and I both know that if this book isn’t brilliant that is not entirely my fault, right? Cuz you can see that I’m putting everything I have into this, you know, I don’t have any more than this, so if you want it to be better than you gotta show up and do your part of the deal, ok? But if you don’t do that, you know what, the hell with it I’m going to keep writing anyway because that’s my job, and I’d please like the record to reflect today that I showed up for my part of the job.”

Well, Vision Lady called back, making a gameplan. Apparently I did and didn’t qualify, enough that she was able to squeak me through. The way she talked the two pages both-sides-covered complaint list I gave the doctor was a clincher.  And she wants me to ask the eye doctor about driving possibilities when I go to pick up the glasses, since I apparently live on the edge, so that aught to be interesting. Also, I thought glasses were visual aids? They (the Service) told me they wouldn’t be able to pay for visual aids, and I didn’t pick out frames when I was there for either pair of glasses and they’d both need to be fitted,  but the Lady said she’d authorized ‘em, ‘cept when we first met she definitly told me they didn’t pay for stuff like that, I could’ve sworn. Perhaps she meant specific things? 

So I…don’t understand? The eye doctors’ ain’t exactly a close place, it’s an hour’s drive both directions, so….yeah. I’d have to go there again, and then go back a third time. I was under the impression the opthamoligist was just going to prescribe a pair of …ugh, can’t remember the name, shields? Tinted sunglasses that fit over your regulr glasses for outside and that I’d have to find the pair m’self, since they sell ‘em for  fourty + and up from Noir online with free exchange till you find a fitting pair, but apparently he decided on polarized lenses for the rest of the time since the transition lenses do shit-all and if they’re providing shields then that means they’d have to fit ‘em there, too.

Dammit, why didn’t we plan on a retrip? Figured I’d just take the prescription and do it in town, but I don’t have it so it’s sort’ve a moot point. I s’pose Dad could take me, but we don’t exactly have gas money at the moment.

And why oh why did the woman take the time to explain that I squeaked in by the skin of my teeth (Her words, mind) as there’s two qualifications, 70/20 and/or a side vision depletion of a specific amount for both eyes? Her ’skin o’my teeth’ raised the lovely spector of “It’s not really so bad, grab those bootstraps and haul!” Rather a shitty feeling, all together.  I understand a lot of people’s eyes are similar in visual acuity n’problems thereof, but mine aren’t and m’willing to bet quite a few other people’s aren’t, either, so it sort’ve leaves people dangling in the wind when there’s such a clean cutoff line that someone would need to be ’squeaked through’ to get any sort of accomidation.

Glad for the glasses-news, though, as the ‘transition’ part of my current pair seems to be …peeling? The edges next to the nose and the bottoms are going grey and spreading out, slowly but surely, been worrying me.

In conclusion, anyone that wants transition lenses would be best served to pick up a pair of shields, since once the transition bit starts peeling you can’t save ‘em, at least from what I’ve looked up on it, and the glasses themselves ain’t that old, a year an sumthin’, I think? Cheaper than having a lense tint put on ‘em, too, since I think the tint was sixty (possibly eighty) and the shields are fourty-odd and transition lenses don’t even – work -, which still pisses me off.

The Vision Lady called back, either I qualify or she feels sorry for me, cuz she didn’t drop me like a baked potato. M’so pleased. ^.^  I did, however, miss the phonecall, so have to call back to schedule an appointment on Monday for somewhere ’round the twentieth. Also, I found a metal butterfly hairpin at Salvo for 49 cents to add to the Tiny Shiny Insect Collection. When I get enough, gonna pin ‘em all to a dark blue drop cloth and tack it to the cieling. Or possibly a pair of curtains, dunno yet. ~ Hums ~  but for 49 cents you can’t really lose.  Also found an absolutely charming dollhouse-sized kitchen hutch with mirror-glass front panes for three bucks, but I’d like to replace the knobs and there’s a smidge of paint with claims that it’s from El Salvadore all over the front of it that needs to go, yet another thing I’ll have to soak off. Going to make a scene from Pinnochio with the hutch, I think – the one room cottage, keep it simple. I’ve mini-dishes ’round here somewhere that look to be the right scale, minus the teakettle, I’ll have to find one of those, just need to make the bed, woodworking-table and the two dolls, plus odds n’ends, you’d be startled as hell if you knew what y’can make with a wide variety of everyday odds n’ends. I’ve got most of the stuff already here, just need to dredge it up. Reuse and Recycle!  Pinnochio’ll be easy, as he’s just wooden sticks half-built on a table, but Gepetto, well. Been looking to make a doll for a while now anyway, just need to get the fimo and wire, figures that I’m out of all the wire. Don’t even have pipe cleaners. Granted, I don’t generally use pipcleaners ‘cept for infestimental painting detail and there’s so many small, sharp objects that work just as well I never bothered to pick any more up, haven’t had ‘em in years. Need to get a watch face too, for an old Christmas gift, but I’ve been looking for months and can’t find one. Tempted to just use an older one so I can get the damn band made already, I should ask if she’d mind, you’d think after four or so months (?) I’d've found one, but no.  Really need to get the wire though, also’ll need it for the mini woodworking tools. hmmmm. Hey! On the upside, the dragon for that other thingie has been done and painted for a few weeks now. – pats self on the back -. Horrible paintjob when I bought it. Often the cheaper figurines are excellent in hard detail but have mediocre paint jobs, and a few hours quality time with some enamel for redoing the shitty thing really helps ’em along. Although I need new yellow, the bottle died and that damn machete-thing pommel needs to be finished, badly. And Wal Mart still has - nothing -, you’d think they’d get something in for their crafts section or their ‘boys’ toy depo, at the very least. Gonna have to cart my sorry ass to the hobbyshop eventually, but they’re expensive.  Hmmm. Bet I can raid Salvo’s scarves for some pretty flowered needlework to turn into a quilt for Gepetto’s bed. Ugh, s’one thing I can barely do – sew. I can do basic, y’know, buttons, zippers, hem and shit, but the needle hates me and it’s more guesswork than anything on whether the needle goes through cleanly and evenly or not as I do most things by hand. So, I cheat. Generally works out in the end. Ah, and I’ll need a piece of foam for Gepetto’s mattress. I should prolly get the rest of the other stuff finished though, m’a few projects behind. Seems m’always a few projects behind ;/

Courtesy of ‘Married to the Sea’, whose comics seem to be generally good with a few insulting ones thrown in, which seems to be just the way life goes. ;/ I partiuclarly liked this one though, although they might as well drop the ‘primitive’ bit.

Black and white cartoon of a heavy-faced man in a suit staring straight ahead, with one eye closed.

Questioning Transphobia has a post concerning Taylor, a convicted rapist currently held as criminally insane, requesting gender orchectomy (sp?). As it’s a health matter, it’s obvious she should be approved.

However, the discussion (such as it was) brought to bear my own beliefs, (that is, keeping rapists from doing, or coming to unneessary pain or harm, the former being a more pressing matter to me as nothing focuses your mind like impending doom (like oh, letting them continue to run free to violate without recourse,- which no one said, but I saw no options suggested besides ‘prison’s no answer’ and it’s what my mind jumped to, it being a forefront concern, since I don’t believe a large society can opperate without some sort of seclusion system, unless we revert to immediate gallows. (we’re on the same topic, it turns out, just different subsections, it got a bit confusing). Having the onversation brought to mind this video clip, for all those people (both here and where-ever) that don’t understand what, exactly, repeated trauma – does – to identity formation as a child, since it isn’t the same as an adult’s experience of similar events.

Sparrow #1  “Begging your pardon, Sir, but perhaps if you gave a man another chance?”

Sparrow #2  “Shall I?”    ~ stab ~    “That sort of thinking got us into this mess”

At about 3:45/4:40 or thereabouts it segues nicely into a version of “Worm in therapy, hauling the rest of Mind with him with a frayed and sea-rotted rope”, which you might find amusing. I did, anyway, pass the wince factors.

Sparrow #3 “Is..I…no…why, why would he do that?”

Sparrow #4  “Cuz he’s a lummox, isn’t he.”

Sparrow #2  “…We shall have a magnificent garden party, and you’re not invited…”

- edited, yet again, for clarity. I think cleared most of it. Well, except for the ‘It’s not rare!” repeat. Which I’m more than well enough aware of, so I’m not sure why it keeps getting …repeated. Perhaps other’s personal experience were shattered and it’s still a meme, that might be it. At least, I don’t ever remember having that particular ‘once in blue moon’ concept.

Amanda at Three River’s Fog wrote a post titled “X is a Feminist Issue”, ’bout race, (RaceFail ‘09 just keeps getting-going-gone, like the energizer bunny. Geez, generally people at least take a week or three off, I thought). Excellent post and short enough to where there’s really no excuse – not – to go read the whole thing. Excerpt;

Look, the fuss around whether race is a feminist issue (not just race, but race is a particular sore spot) boils down to this.

When people ask

“Why is X a feminist issue?”

what they’re really asking is

“Why should I care?”

Link located Here

Sums it up nicely, doesn’t it?

In other news I almost choked on my drink reading today, one of the sidebar blogs, Ancephalous, has a post up about the up and coming ‘Watchmen’ movie, which isn’t so bad on a skim, but the title is absolutely horrible. I’d like to say something but I’m just ….not sure how the hell to phrase it. “Dude, your post title’s an ablist ass” doesn’t – quite – get the problem across. Also, this is irritating almost beyond measure – a friend of mine gave me the web addy (currently gone, I had it copied by mouse – I’ll hunt it down in my msn history later) to a survey for a college term paper. It’s multiple questions and you’re supposed to pick the ones that matter to you about lgbt and – vacationing -. Yes, pardon me while I gape a bit, especially vcationing with the recession, as if I could’ve afforded it beforehand, but….yeah. Went to fill it out – first question was, what sexuality are you. Guess where the ‘t’ was listed? Mmhm, under ’sexuality’, right under the rest of ‘em. I finangled with the damn thing for a bit and managed to type ‘Transgender (no transexuals allowed, I take it?) is not a sexuality’ in the listed ‘Other’ box (there’s a wicked pun there) but not check it, and I – think – I listed gay as ‘best available option’, but can’t remember, was too pissy about the Erroneous ‘T’. I hope the whole survey resuts show and not just the checked boxes, otherwise she won’t see the comment, and you couldn’t even click more than one thing up top.

And the issues listed for vacationing centered around public affection and sightseeing stuff, – museums, cafe’s and such. Tell me, for all the sightseeing options on ‘what would you be most likely to do and what issues concern you”, why isn’t someone who’s s’posed to be knowlegable enough for a term paper that ’includes’, and I use the word very loosely, not – have, say, presentation related things like Bathroom Access as a possible option? But no, nada. There is, however, a little box at the bottom with – very - limited character space to point out survey problems. Ugh.

-Edited for misspellings, missed words and paragraph breaks. Bah.