After my miraculous and beloved Lasik procedure, I have noticed that I see halos around light sources, especially in low-light situations. This is a very minor and common side-effect of Lasik, and generally recedes or disappears as the eyes heal, although there is no guarantee. I wanted some kind of guideline as to when or if to start worrying about the halos not receding, and it looks like about a month or so is usually long enough for them to fade. However, while researching the halos I got interested in what Lasik is exactly, and ended up on Wikipedia. It turns out that Lasik is performed with a device called an excimer laser, and check out how awesome they are:
“Rather than burning or cutting material, the excimer laser adds enough energy to disrupt the molecular bonds of the surface tissue, which effectively disintegrates into the air in a tightly controlled manner through ablation rather than burning. Thus excimer lasers have the useful property that they can remove exceptionally fine layers of surface material with almost no heating or change to the remainder of the material which is left intact.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excimer_laser
Disintegration is cool.
As of 3:45pm on Friday, August 8, 2008, after 23 years of trials and torments, I am no longer nearsighted. I have been subject to absolute fits of giddiness, glee, and maniacal laughter. I find it quite interesting that to the outside observer, this probably appears commonplace. Thousands of people undergo Lasik or related procedures every day, and have for 20 or more years. So in aggregate, yet another person undergoing a relatively routine procedure of a mere 25 minutes is no big deal.
But on an individual, personal level, it is astounding. Profound. World-shattering. For 2/3 of my life, since before I was fully grown, since before I was really me, I have had the constant companionship of my glasses. So many petty annoyances become monstrous when added up and compounded over such a long time. Having to find them to see the time when waking up. Groping around half-blind in the shower every single day, having to bring bottles to within inches of my eyes to tell if I had shampoo or conditioner. $300 every year for a new pair, assuming I didn’t sit or step on them. The neverending routine of caring for contact lenses (before disposables) like sheperding some absurdly needy and helpless pet.
I think the thing I hated most was forgetting where I put my glasses, because of course my vision was just bad enough that something the size of glasses blended into the haze at something like two feet. It could become farcical, staggering around from one suspect shelf to another, squinting and poking my head right up next to any surface that could be “hiding” my stupid glasses. Of course, in my forgetfulness, this was a perfect opportunity to sit or step on them.
I don’t even want to discuss the social implications of being a 12 year old with glasses. Instant dork. Bad enough I liked to read. Even worse to read fantasy and science fiction, comic books. Add in moving every single year—always the new kid—and it just makes me unhappy to remember it.
And now, I can see. Without apparatus. Of course, the healing is just beginning, and the sight is still too new, I haven’t really absorbed it. But I’m happy. Really, really, happy. So happy I can’t contain it, I’ll suddenly notice or remember that I’m not wearing glasses or contacts and I’ll be so filled with glee that I literally jump up and down and clap. This is not like me. I’m much more a wry grin sort of fellow, usually. Suddenly I’m Buffy, purely, genuinely happy, without reserve or irony, without criticism or scorn. And it is good.
Everyone’s favorite Neil will be in Los Angeles on October 6 in support of The Graveyard Book. If you want to see if he’ll be in your town, I recommend subscribing to Where’s Neil
I’ll explain that ^ later.
Last week my benevolent employer was kind enough to send me to Atlanta, Georgia for Big Nerd Ranch’s Ruby & Ruby on Rails Bootcamp. All I can say is “awesome”. I wish I’d paid for it myself so I could say it was the best money I’ve ever spent. If you’re interested in learning Rails, go right now and sign up for the one they’ve got early next year in Germany. If you’re interested in programming on OS X, or for the iPhone, I’m betting those classes are even better (if such a thing is possible), as Cocoa programming is their speciality.
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I love this world. NPR’s All Songs Considered is offering a stream and podcast of the Atlanta show of Tom Waits’ Glitter & Doom tour. I’m going to go cry with unbearable joy for an hour or two. See you on the other side.
Comment from Renee: “That’s incongruous.”
George Denis Patrick Carlin (May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008)
Requiescat in pace, you motherfucking cocksucker.
We learned that the word “Penix” just keeps being funny.
We learned that 115° heat is basically unbearable.
We learned that one should rent a car if one is going to Phoenix. The distances (like in LA) are too great and cabs get way expensive way fast.
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It all happened again, but with an almost entirely different set list. I really can’t express myself properly in this climate. I need time to digest and let this compose itself. I will return to replace this with lyrical remarks overbrimming with life-altering observations.
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It is extremely difficult to be coherent at this point. I have just seen Tom Waits perform live for the first time in my life. I feel giddy and reckless. I feel like the rest of life will be dull, harsh, and meaningless. I feel like Phoenix (or Penix, as Renee in 12-year-old-boy mode keeps calling it to much merriment from us both) in not-quite-summer is a brutal mistake that is only made bearable by Tom. I feel like the most outrageous hyperbolic language barely touches the perfection of the event.
Is it wrong for a grown man to weep uncontrollably when a musical act takes the stage?
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