Popeye

So a week after the surgery, I have 20/20 vision in one eye and an inflammation in the other. So it was 50% successful. I know I shouldn't be worried but Murphy tends to make me his bitch. In the meantime I can't drive, which would suck if it wasn't -40 outside.

The surgery itself took only about twenty minutes here's what happened:

They sit you down in a dentist chair and make you look at this light on a machine above you. Then they dump about a gallon of anesthetic onto the eyeball which makes it both insensitive and unable to move (which is important).

Then they clamp your eyelid open, a la A Clockwork Orange. The patient then makes a joke about the movie and the medical staff groans and informs the patient that everyone says that.

This makes it very freaky when the doctor takes what is actually a very tiny spatula but looks friggin huge and you can see it scrape the layer of goo off your eyeball. You can also feel pressure on the eye which makes you little sick to your stomach.

After that they wash off the eyeball with water or something. Now it's time for zapping. And I do mean zapping. The laser makes a helluva noise: I actually jumped quite a bit when it first went off. It's not a constant laser, rather it pulses away a micro-millimeter of eyeball at a time.

Which brings us to the gross part. When the laser is zapping, you can smell roasted eyeball. What's worse is that you can feel sizzling little bits of eyeball landing on your forehead and cheeks.

I'll leave you with that image. Time for a fried egg sandwich.

Three Hours to Go

This may be my last message if things don't go well. Laser eye surgery in three hours.

I wasn't nervous yesterday, but I am a bit now. After all, you keep hearing that you aren't supposed to point laser pointers and similar devices into peoples eyes and here I go paying a large amount of money to have someone do that for me.

The real worry is the post-op stuff. It sounds like I need to get at least four different kinds of eye drops, one of which I need to use every fifteen minutes for the first week. Which will suck.

I am glad I am getting this done though. Barring the week of "discomfort" (which can be anything from dry, itchy sensations to searing, blinding pain) I think it's well worth it.

I've been wearing glasses since I was twelve, which means after twenty-six years, I'll be free. After getting my first pair, my father said, and I quote "If you break those I'll kill you". And ever since then spectacles have been an annoying part of my life.

Socially, well, nowadays there's a certain acceptance of specs, but in the seventies and eighties, if you wore glasses you were a geek/nerd/spaz/loser. Okay I am a geek but now I wonder if wearing glasses was a major contributor to that. When you have specs, physical activity of any kind is petty restricted so the only real alternative is pursuing more cerebral activities.

And glasses just ain't sexy.

About ten years ago I started wearing contacts, which I fully admit is a vanity thing. You can actually do something more physical with them on (skiing etc) but the level of maintenance required is considerable. And of course once in a while they decide to jump out of your head, which causes all kinds of trouble.

So after all is said and done (and dropped) the cost of the procedure is what I spend in about five years, and the folks at the clinic said at my current rate I won't need glasses again for about twenty years. Add to that miracle of waking up every morning and not having to fumble around for specs or go through the ritual of trying to get the damn things in. Add to that, I can do stuff, travel and generally walk around without having to worry about breakage, loss or the pure social outcast aspect and it's well worth it.

I know, I'm trying to convince myself here. But those who have been saddled with required eye-ware know what I am talking about. Those with 20/20 vision have no idea, no idea how much having to wear these things affects you.

So I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe.

The Blogger Has No Clothes

That would be because I am on vacation. Well, not "vacation" so much as days off. Surgery is on Wednesday but Monday and Tuesday is supposed to be time to sit back, relax and stew in my own juices.

Not turning out that way though.

So as some of you know, my little brother is in a bit of a pickle. After moving to Calgary from Toronto in August, he broke up with said girlfriend recently, and now has a lease on a very nice apartment which he can no longer afford. So I'm moving in to help him out. I won't be saving any money (actually I will be paying more money for rent and parking) but it's an improvement: en suite dishwasher and laundry, underground parking, hardwood floors etc.

But it means I have to leave the fortress of solitude. Which is okay because it's been getting boring. I like the neighborhood (most times) as it's one of those ones with big trees, quiet (most times) and fairly close to alot of things. But it isn't actually close (within walking distance) to anything really.

The new place is close to the famous/notorious "Red Mile" which means it will be noisy. So I can either stand on the balcony yelling at the world to shut the hell up or go out and do my share to contribute noise pollution. I think I choose the latter.

And for a dirty old man like myself, the girl-watching is much better.

In other news, last week I got notification via email that a package was on it's way. Now this isn't unusually, but I didn't remember ordering that I hadn't already received. So I was intrigued. And worried that I broke my drink-and-surf policy (don't do it) again.

Got it on Saturday. It was video tape and some information on making smart stock purchase decisions in the market of the twenty-first century. With convenient recommendations.

Not that exciting.

So with surgery, the move and of course International Spend Like Crazy days (ie Christmas) coming up, I'm going to be busy and broke. Add to that I'm actually getting some response on Lavalife this time around, 2006 is going to end like most of my projects at work: not enough time, resources or requirements but incredible pressure to get it done by a specific date.

That's Life outside the Fortress of Solitude.

I'm up, I'm up...

Look at the time stamp. I hate it when this happens.

I'm not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination but about once a week I wind up waking up at 5 AM. Now some would say this is a perfect opportunity to do something constructive, and I would agree. Except I'm a bloody wreck when this happens. For example, it took me five minute to write the last sentence.

So I put on a pot of coffee, idly surf, smoke too much, maybe watch an episode of something on DVD, that sort of thing. It really is me time because frankly I wouldn't want to subject anyone to the great grumpiness that is Moby at 5:30 AM.

And of course I always feel the guilt. I should be doing something constructive. Like getting my word count up for NaNoWriMo. Or going to the gym. Or doing the dishes. Or go into work. Okay, maybe not that.

This early morning wakefulness comes at a price. By the time three in the afternoon rolls around I'm a fricken' zombie, including the impulse to bite someone's head off. And the evening is shot.

So I'm writing a post. And drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Which I'm almost out of.

There ya go, I'll go buy smokes. I'll get something accomplished at least.

Edit: Almost forgot, I started up my profile on Lavalife again. Not this morning, but on the weekend.

Of course it's just another way for me to avoid word count blues, but what the heck. The only problem is that when you factor in:

Age, mine

Age, hers

The fact I don't want to have kids

The fact that I'm reluctant to date someone with kids

It turns out that the number of matches I get is less than a dozen. So it won't be that much of a distraction.

Russian brides anyone?

Hey I Update!

But now it seems only weekly. Ah well, my excuse is that nothing of interest (even to me) has been happening as of late. If that sounds a tad on the dull side you're right.

So for the update let's start off with work. I know I said I wouldn't kvetch about work here but I gotta make exceptions once in a while. So the new team is very quickly turning into me and nine managers. Yes that's right. Me and nine managers. I have two students working for me but at the rate we're going I'm worried that neither of them will accept an offer (in fact I think one of them needs to go back to school). Granted we have someone new starting next week, but that means I will have less time as I have to train them up. It'll be six weeks before they can be left to their own devices.

Argh.

Friday night was rather intriguing. Me, the two students and most of the nine managers went to shoot pool after work. At the table beside us was half of the (almost all female) Human Resources department. They were out celebrating the occasion of one of their comrade's divorce papers being final. So by six o'clock they were totally wasted. I, of course, joined them in the festivities. The geeks faded by seven, of course. Now the divorce is very, very cute. Her friends are very, very attractive as well. Especially the one who was introduced as being a former pole-dance instructor. And I could believe it. Wishful thinking or no.

The decision was (finally) made to head out. To what is supposedly a cowboy bar. Now, whenever I go to a cowboy bar there is an inevitable scuffle. Alcohol goes in my mouth, and fuels that little sardonic monster in me. He can get vocal.

Fortunately this time there were no faux cowpokes in the vicinity, so I spent a good part of the evening drinking, dancing with the ladies and throwing ice-cubes into their cleavage. Which they insisted I do so they could suck them out of each other's bras. How come when I was twenty-five this was considered unacceptable behavior? Ah well, better late than never.

As the night wound down (about 8 hours after we started) I found myself relegated to guardian of the purses. So soon after I made my departure (ensuring everyone had their purse of course).

The hangover was horrendous.

But overall it was a good night despite the fact that I felt really, really old. But at least I felt like a dirty old man.

That's an improvement.

I gotta look up someone for some pole-dancing lessons next week.

The Power of Words

In this modern day and age, words can hold more power than ever. The power to educate! The power to illuminate! The power to hilarity-ate!!!

But when the power goes it, you can't write suckers down.

Yep, national Novel Writing Month is off to an auspicious start. After actually not going to the comic store for my regular Wednesday fix to set aside time to write, the power goes out in my building.

Now I hear you say "But Moby, you could do it the old fashioned way!".

Not in the dark.

Of course the kicker is that the power went out last night making me late for work. Well, granted I wasn't terribly upset considering the past couple weeks but I had a 9 AM meeting with my boss.


In other news, the Russian Experiment is finito (that's Russian right?) After a deluge of emails I shut 'er down. I've concluded that I'm not internationally undateable but something in the tradition of emergent behavior came about.

Am I looking for a wife as opposed to girlfriend (although that doesn't do the meme justice. Firstly, I realize that I don't see a wife as desirable. Not that I don't want to get married, hell's donkeys, if I find the right woman I'll get down on the knee, say the cheesy question, wear the monkey suit etc. But that's not the goal.

As I've said before, best friend with benefits (and who feels the same about me) is what I seek. Everything else is just icing on the cake.

Regardless, Odessa is still a nice place to vacation, and with my stock option now actually worth money....

For more on the Russian Experiment and various other musings, check out my video blog. I know it's MySpace, but it's free space as well.