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something tells me you're the devil's daughter
I went and had an eye test today. I was actually shitting myself about it. Not because I thought that they were going to say there was hundreds of things wrong with my eyes (there aren't, thankfully), but because I suspected I needed new glasses (as I mentioned a couple of months ago), and I thought it was going to cost horrendous amounts of money.
Welp. All told it's going to cost £79, which is the cheapest my glasses have been in years (I think the last pair were pushing £200? I can't remember. Mostly what I remember is Expensive. And that they slid down my nose all the time at the slightest provocation).
My left eye is slightly better and my right eye is slightly worse, which sounds weird to me, but whatever. The optician did, like, a hundred and one tests on me which I've never had done before, like testing the pressure in my eyes (fine), my field of vision (also fine), and he took pictures of my retinas which were in great shape, apparently. They look like space photos. It's really weird.
I also told him I'd been having frequent(ish) migraines. He said that could possibly be down to my eyesight. He was also fairly surprised when I said I hadn't told my doctor about them. I explained that I didn't know they were migraines until fairly recently (true) because they didn't seem painful enough, and they were in the back of my head. What I didn't tell him is that there's a stupid part of my brain that thinks I deserve to be in pain when it happens.
(I know that's stupid. I need to work on challenging it and telling it to shut the fuck up).
He said I should come back if they get worse though (fair enough).
Anyway, I should have the new glasses in about two weeks. They are much the same as the old ones, because I am old and curmudgeonly and I don't like change. Also I didn't really see any others I particularly liked (and, you know, picking frames when you can't see what the heck you're looking at is pretty difficult. The one dude who wasn't my optician suggested maybe coming back with a friend and I was like, "ha, offline friends are you kidding, what the hell are they" winky smiley face. Except I didn't actually say that because, as hard as I find making decisions, I'd rather make them for myself than have to live with someone else's).
~
I'm considering getting a couple of tattoos on my wrists which, if you have the misfortune to follow me on twitter, that's what I was muttering about re: pens. Because I was writing on myself to see if I'd get bored with what it said there. And I've got so used it that it feels weird when it's gone.
(It's thirteen words in my own writing, but not my own words. Because reasons. Though I am sure you can probably guess them).
I can't get them done straight away anyway (although I really want to because I've been jonesing for another tattoo for years now). Partly because the guy who did my last tattoo closed his shop a while back because he kept getting broken into, so I will have to go elsewhere. I have not found an elsewhere, yet, besides anything else.
Also I swore I wasn't going to get any more bony bits of me done, because I can still remember, seven years on, how it felt every time my spine was crossed when I got this one done (it's between my shoulder blades). Except my problem is that I'm ninety percent bony*, and I want these two on the backs of my wrists and...yeah...
~
ALSO OH HEY. You know how I did that voice post back last March? I've been thinking of doing others since, but haven't got round to doing them because of getting embarrassed. WELL STUFF THAT.
One I've thought of is making a list of random questions, and then getting you guys to pick numbers or something, and then I'll answer them. The other one is post I reblogged on tumblr that amused me. I may do dramatic readings of some of my teenage scribblings because they're that horrendous. Also I want to record of couple of my decently written poems because they're NOT horrendous.
Yes, this is kind of related to all that mumbling I did about podcasting. Because I still think about that and I JUST DON'T KNOW.
~
*I am not tall (I'm 5'4"), but boy do I know how it feels to feel like you're all arms and legs. Probably a good job I didn't get any taller, really. Also, you know, you ask anyone who I've ever dug my elbow or my arse bones into. Whether by accident or on purpose. I think my elbows have actual corners.
Welp. All told it's going to cost £79, which is the cheapest my glasses have been in years (I think the last pair were pushing £200? I can't remember. Mostly what I remember is Expensive. And that they slid down my nose all the time at the slightest provocation).
My left eye is slightly better and my right eye is slightly worse, which sounds weird to me, but whatever. The optician did, like, a hundred and one tests on me which I've never had done before, like testing the pressure in my eyes (fine), my field of vision (also fine), and he took pictures of my retinas which were in great shape, apparently. They look like space photos. It's really weird.
I also told him I'd been having frequent(ish) migraines. He said that could possibly be down to my eyesight. He was also fairly surprised when I said I hadn't told my doctor about them. I explained that I didn't know they were migraines until fairly recently (true) because they didn't seem painful enough, and they were in the back of my head. What I didn't tell him is that there's a stupid part of my brain that thinks I deserve to be in pain when it happens.
(I know that's stupid. I need to work on challenging it and telling it to shut the fuck up).
He said I should come back if they get worse though (fair enough).
Anyway, I should have the new glasses in about two weeks. They are much the same as the old ones, because I am old and curmudgeonly and I don't like change. Also I didn't really see any others I particularly liked (and, you know, picking frames when you can't see what the heck you're looking at is pretty difficult. The one dude who wasn't my optician suggested maybe coming back with a friend and I was like, "ha, offline friends are you kidding, what the hell are they" winky smiley face. Except I didn't actually say that because, as hard as I find making decisions, I'd rather make them for myself than have to live with someone else's).
~
I'm considering getting a couple of tattoos on my wrists which, if you have the misfortune to follow me on twitter, that's what I was muttering about re: pens. Because I was writing on myself to see if I'd get bored with what it said there. And I've got so used it that it feels weird when it's gone.
(It's thirteen words in my own writing, but not my own words. Because reasons. Though I am sure you can probably guess them).
I can't get them done straight away anyway (although I really want to because I've been jonesing for another tattoo for years now). Partly because the guy who did my last tattoo closed his shop a while back because he kept getting broken into, so I will have to go elsewhere. I have not found an elsewhere, yet, besides anything else.
Also I swore I wasn't going to get any more bony bits of me done, because I can still remember, seven years on, how it felt every time my spine was crossed when I got this one done (it's between my shoulder blades). Except my problem is that I'm ninety percent bony*, and I want these two on the backs of my wrists and...yeah...
~
ALSO OH HEY. You know how I did that voice post back last March? I've been thinking of doing others since, but haven't got round to doing them because of getting embarrassed. WELL STUFF THAT.
One I've thought of is making a list of random questions, and then getting you guys to pick numbers or something, and then I'll answer them. The other one is post I reblogged on tumblr that amused me. I may do dramatic readings of some of my teenage scribblings because they're that horrendous. Also I want to record of couple of my decently written poems because they're NOT horrendous.
Yes, this is kind of related to all that mumbling I did about podcasting. Because I still think about that and I JUST DON'T KNOW.
~
*I am not tall (I'm 5'4"), but boy do I know how it feels to feel like you're all arms and legs. Probably a good job I didn't get any taller, really. Also, you know, you ask anyone who I've ever dug my elbow or my arse bones into. Whether by accident or on purpose. I think my elbows have actual corners.