I’ve had bad eyes for a long time.  I got my first pair of glasses when I was in 6th grade.  (I VERY mistakenly thought that getting glasses was cool, and I was proud of them.  I have since learned.) 

About the time I hit my sophomore year, I decided I was tired of glasses and I wanted to try contacts.  So, we went to NuVision in Albion, and I got my very first pair of contact lenses.  It was hate at first sight.

See, I’ve got this thing about my eyes.  Call me crazy, but the thought of purposely sticking my fingers into my eyes twice a day just doesn’t do it for me.  I can’t even put in eye drops.  And when I get that stupid glaucoma test where they shoot a puff of air into my eye…forget about it.  To the casual observer, it looks like I’m being tased.  In my eyeball.  By Satan. 

On top of that, I’ve got hooded eyelids, which will probably get worse with time.  Some members of my family have even had to have corrective cosmetic surgery because their hooded eyelids were beginning to interfere with their vision. 

All of this adds up to one major thing: I HATE contacts.  I hate putting them in.  I hate the itchiness in my eyes when I wear them.  I hate it when they fold in half, roll back behind my eyeball, and cause my eyes to water so badly that I appear to be watching Elijah Wood in The War when he finds out his father is dead.

Eventually, I just stopped wearing them.  Glasses were so much easier to deal with, and, since my eyebrows are invisible, they gave some definition to my face.  I eventually discovered that there was a specific shape of glasses that I should wear that would complement the shape of my (giant) head, and eventually, I grew to like the way that glasses looked on me.

When I was mentally ill performing, contacts became a necessity again.  I could either deal with the contacts or I could be blind onstage…so contacts it was.  I bought my last pair of contacts just before starting performances of Crazy for You, which turned out to be my very last theatrical performance.  After that, there just wasn’t much need for contacts. 

I even went so far as to purchase prescription sunglasses.  Normally, I would wear my contacts on road trips and when I went to amusement parks and the like, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to wear sunglasses.  But once I got my prescription sunglasses, that became a non-issue as well.

Well, this last weekend, I finally broke down and decided to give contact lenses another go.  I went to the optometrist’s office, got assaulted in the eye by the air compressor of doom, and walked out with a prescription for contact lenses.  And I’ve had a headache ever since.  Apparently (I didn’t know this) when you first get contacts, you’re only supposed to wear them for a few hours a day until you get used to them.  The first day, I wore them for four hours.  The next day, I wore them for 10.  And now my eyes are so tired I can’t focus them anymore.  I wore them another 10 hours today, and it was all I could do not to snap, and go off like Elvadine in The War when she tells Miss Strapford what’s what.

(I don’t know why I’ve got The War on my mind, but now I need to go watch it again.)

Anyway, suffice it to say, right now, "I’s can’t even see good, so I’m prolly not gunna graduate this year neither."  It’s hard enough spending your whole day under flickering fluorescent lights in front of two computer screens.  But add evil contact lenses on to that, and I’ve got a headache this big, and it’s got @#$% you @#$%ing @#$%ers written all over it.

And why might you ask, have I decided to torture myself with this miserable horrendousness.  Is it masochism?  Preparations for a suicide bombing attack?  Mormon guilt?  No.  I’m doing this all for art.  On Friday, I’m going to see Toy Story 3 at the nicest theater in the area.  And because it’s only playing in 3D, I will need to wear 3D glasses.  And Hell will sprout Otter Pops before I sit through that movie with glasses over my glasses.  A’int Gunna Happen.  Also, my glasses are at the point of falling apart, and it was either this or buy new glasses, and the contacts were cheaper. 

So, if I seem crabby (or, more accurately, crabbier than usual) for the next couple of days, it’s probably because I’ve got a headache going behind my eyeballs so severe that it’s making my teeth hurt. 

Seems that no matter what I do, I still have to suffer for art.