Blurry, Blurry

My vision has been bothering me for a while. Since I was in second grade I have been wearing glasses in some kind of capacity. I have always felt, especially in high school, that my glasses were kind of like a block to me being attractive.

I started wearing contacts six years ago, but allergies have always kept me from really being able to wear them on a constant basis. At best, I can wear my contacts all through winter, but maybe only four times a month any other part of the year.

It was really troubling though when this past year, I couldn't wear my contacts hardly at all. It was even more disappointing when my eyes became so bothered by my attempted contact use that I actually ended up with really sore, tired, red eyes. All this summer I have been fighting my eyes, starting with the red eye, and moving onto more serious eye problems of having seriously crusted eyes in the morning, to extreme light sensitivity, to blurred vision in my left eye.

I finally went to the doctor to try to clear things up. It has been greatly frustrating not knowing what is wrong with my eyes, so instead of going to my regular eye doctor, I decided to go to Clarkson.

It was there that I finally got some answers.

I explained how much my eyes bother me, and how badly my vision was blurred, including the fact that the blurred vision was accompanied by extreme light sensitivity. The doctor looked at my eyes, explained exactly what he was doing, and gave me a clear diagnosis.

I basically have chronically dry eyes. They are so dry that the normal stuff that usually lands on people's eyes, like dust and other shit, can't be washed out of my eyes. My left eye is way worse off than my right eye, but the doctor told me that my right eye was definitely on its way to becoming just as cloudy.

He gave me a prescription to help me. Basically I have to take these steroids four times a day, and my eye should start to heal itself.

Sadly, there is no guarantee that my eyes are ever going to get better. I have almost no tear production in my eyes, so I might always have to have artificial tears. And I may never be able to wear contacts, no matter how much I absolutely love them.

But on the plus side, my secret fear of going blind seems to be nothing more than a fear. So for that, I am grateful.

Bitch be Trippin'

Alas, I know it has been a while since I last posted, not including the story about my kitten. There have been many events occurring in and around my life, but tonight's event is definitely the most pressing, as it is the most recent.

I shall begin with the simple fact that the ex-boyfriend has a pregnant girlfriend. Weather it is actually his is totally the question of the day, because everyone knows she has been cheating on him, Chris just doesn't believe EVERYONE.

Naturally, as I do think Chris is a good person, just terribly naive, I dislike the girlfriend. And this is the same girlfriend of his I told he should "totes give a second chance" after her first indiscretion. I really tried to give her a chance, but seriously, she is a total twot.

Which brings me to tonight. Gina and I went over to visit our friend Kyra, whom is also the fiancé of Gina's brother. It wasn't really all that clear weather or not the slut girlfriend would be there or not, but what did it matter to us? It was Kyra and Matt's place. They were just crashing on account of Chris being homeless (again) and the girlfriend, (her name is Malissa, "with an A") just following him around uselessly.

So we get there, and Malissa is just chillaxing on the couch like a bum. We follow Kyra into the apartment to check out the new digs, and see her rather enormous closet considering the tiny space. Gina then tells Kyra that she wants to talk to her about "stuff and things" and since the TV in Kyra's room is still boxed up, I decide to be good-natured and watch a Repo show with her while the girls talk things out.

I am going to stretch the good-natured thing to the max.

I pop a squat on the futon, and pleasantly ask, "What are we watching?"

"Are we seriously gonna do this?" Not really an answer, so I won't play along.

"Watch TV together? I think so." I smile, but it's really more sarcastic than sweet.

"Get up."

"Up?" I look at her, cock my head a little and really give her a maniac grin.

"Get up! I am serious!" Her face gets a little red, which makes me grin harder.

"Or what?" I ask. All sparkling eyes and charm for little bitches.

"I said get up!"

"What are you gonna do?" More head cocking to the side, and I am grinding my teeth I am smiling so hard.

"You have to the count of five." I can't help it, I giggle.

"Five? That is so little numbers!"

"Get up!"

"I am on four now, right?" I hold up my left hand, starting the countdown.

"Get up!" She is all glares and malevolence by now.

"Three..." I tick down my fingers, "Two..." I drop my last finger, "One! Yay! One! What does that mean? You are upposed to go something right? Something is about to happen? What? You aren't doing anything! Do something! One, one, ONE!" I squeal with glee when she finally gets up. It takes a good deal of huffing and puffing, and I am concerned she could blow the house down.

Then she does the ultimate faux pas: she grabs my wrists. I learned a long time ago to never let anyone think they are gonna man-handle me.

I gently break her grasp with a simple karate move Alex showed me years ago.

"Don't touch me," I say, using my you're a bad dog voice. She just goes back at it again. 

I break her grasp again, this time more firmly, and say as calmly as possible, "Don't touch me."

She goes in for a third grab with her right hand, and either does the same with her left, or is trying to go for a punch. Either way, I grab her left hand that is slightly balled, and squeeze with a little force. Her thumbs pops. But because her right hand is grabbed onto my left arm, and it is for sure the weaker of the two, I dont break her grasp immediately.

In a move Alex would have been proud of, I roll back slightly, put my right foot against her thigh and push with the same force I use on my kitten. She seems shocked that I am in full control of my body. Maybe Chris told her I was a paraplegic. She drops my hand and backs up.

"You kicked my stomach!" She squeals like a gutted pig.

I raise my eyebrow. "I didn't know your stomach was located in your thigh." I poke her thigh pointedly. "Of course it is fatty enough."

"I am calling the cops!"

My eyebrow is still raised, "Call them. I have dealt with many cops in my day. They all like how I tell the truth." She just storms out of the apartment in a huff. I shrug, because I still haven't done anything wrong. Not only did I not start it, but I didn't hurt her in anyway. I had light pink rings forming on my wrists, but what did I care about a little ouchie.

Kyra started freaking out when she heard that the cops had been called and began hyperventilating. I read somethings about their church's funding. I heard the front door slam open then shut, and very heavy footfalls run into the bathroom. I smiled, since Chris had told me how hard it was to make Malissa cry. Apparently not.

She left the bathroom to go back outside and talk to the cops. Finally Gina lead them upstairs to meet me. I smiled kindly, because I seriously had talked to cops a lot. Then I reiterated the true story. The dudes looked at me, all tall and scrawny with my skinny arms and skinny legs and decided I wasn't a threat in the slightest, especially to not such a rotund girl like Malissa.

They informed her there was nothing they could do. She didn't have any marks, while I did. If anyone should be pressing charges, it was me. Of course, I didn't really care to do anything that irrational. They informed me she was pressing charges. I smiled and said okay. Then the officers told me and Gina we had to leave, so we grabbed our stuff and hopped in our cars. No big deal to me. They didn't even know my name.

Chris decided to send me something akin to a death threat via text. I told him I didn't kick his girlfriend in the stomach, but of course I had to be facetious and add in that "Unless your girlfriend had her stomach and uterus in her thigh," I definitely didn't kick her there. Of course, maybe she really does have different anatomy. I never met someone who literally had stomach fat that slugged off of her.

I also decided to add in that he could come hit me if he wanted to. "You know where I live," I explained. "If you believe her, you'd do it."

Of course, I don't see Chris anywhere. He is too much of a pussy to do something.

The Kitten

So, there was a stray cat living outside my apartment that I noticed about two months ago. I am normally not a cat person, but I felt sad for her. She was so little and stray cat like, I took it upon myself to start feeding her. She ate all the food and water I left out for her, but I didn't really ever see her. I wasn't really worried though.

Then I went for a little weekend vacation, (story to come later), floating down a river. And when I got back, my neighbor had taken it upon herself to continue feeding the cat in my absence. At first I was happy that the cat hadn't gone hungry while I was away for four days, but I assumed she had been able to catch her own food since she was alive before I had started feeding her.

Well, after I explained to my neighbor that I was the guilty party member who was feeding the stray cat, she told me how the cat had become friendly. I was happy, because that meant she was a nice cat. But then my neighbor also informed me that she was going to take the cat to the pound if someone didn't do something.

I am allergic to cats.

But I am weak at the thought of a kitten being put to sleep because of the simple problem of overcrowding at shelters, so I quickly volunteered my home.

"Oh good, she really does want a forever home." She seemed happy with having found a place to put the kitten. I was left chewing my lip.

My neighbor helped me get the kitten into a crate, and I made an appointment with the vet at the humane society to get her checked out. I put her in the car, drove her down there, and proceeded to wait. The vet techs finally came out to collect the stray kitten and me.

The vet techs checked her out for feline leukemia and pregnancy, weighed her, (six pounds, eight ounces) then called the vet in. She explained how my new family member, (who was clean of both afflictions), would need her kitten vaccines since she was six to eight months old. In total, after the second round, she would be costing me two hundred dollars. I sighed inwardly, but I couldn't just leave her there to die.

The poor kitten was shaking like a twig during a tornado, anyways.

So she got her distemper, rabies, and leukemia vaccines, plus a flea and tick treatment and a deworming. Then she crawled back into her crate, defeated. I paid the front desk and left with the little calico.

I stopped by Petsmart and bought her some necessary things like a scratching post, little box, collar, water dispenser, food dish, and most importantly kitten food. Then I took her inside my apartment for the first time. She mewed at me, and after setting up food, water, and litter box, I let her out, slipping on her black collar.

She crawled under my futon and stayed there all day and night.

She finally started coming out and inspecting her new home. I encouraged her to use the scratching post, and was very relieved to see she knew exactly how to use the litter box.

She even started coming up to me. And since last Tuesday, (as I have only had her a week) she has started coming when called, goes where I tell her, and eats pretty much everything, including waffles.

And while I am allergic to cats, I have invested money into allergy medication, and have plans to get allergy shots.

I named her Elsa, but I call her Elsie most of the time.