Blatantly Obvious

Being able to see is awesome.

Yeah, okay, I know, and that water stuff, I hear it's pretty wet. But follow along.

Previous to this week (AKA - the time before contacts), the only method I had to improve my vision besides Furious Squinting (the name of my 3rd album) was applying my glasses to the task. Glasses which were coming up on 6.5 years old, bent at about a 45 degree angle, and really, painfully, truly, dorky looking. Also, it can now be revealed, in a women's style. I picked them up at the start of my senior year of high school, when I realized that it really shouldn't be that difficult to read a chalkboard, especially when you're a suck-up and sit in the front row of desks (High school was an unfortunate time for me).

The result was a dramatic raise in my smartness-looking quotient (and a bit in the actual smartness area, since I could again see the board), but also upped my geekery to near astronomical levels. As one once said, the phrase uber-nerd was not necessarily out of the question.

Since then, I have grown, well, incredibly old and feeble (in many ways, mind) but directly correlated to my vision, all while maintaining the same level of dynamic dorkiness. This deterioration is best evidenced by my new-found, seemingly super-vision. Post Contacts, I can: see gas prices from the highway, pick out people that I know in a crowd from a distance greater than arms length, and watch sports on TV without really needing announcers to let me know what was going on. We won't even get into the part where I can actually see things while driving at night; I don't want to scare any of my previous passengers any more than they already have been.

Also, according to two people, my level of sexiness has gone up dramatically, sans glasses. Of course, there are others who say that the contacts make me blink too often and give me an insane-like quality, but since when do we listen to the naysayers? He also tells me that I have no ass when I wear jeans, whereas I believe I have a fantastic one. Which I'm pretty sure moves our conversation outside of the normal sphere of roommate relations, but no one ever said we were normal.

I just like the concept of not needing to go on a mission throughout the house to find your glasses, despite the fact that they're in your damnable front shirt pocket the entire time. Contacts add a whole new dimension to the adage of not being able to lose one's head, since it is already screwed on to one's neck.

And somehow (to continue the cliches at a record pace), contacts are just like riding a bicycle - it's easy to fall off, with a tendency to cause scarring. No, wait. I mean, you never forget how to work them: in and out in under 30 seconds.

The convenience is staggering.