(no subject)
Apr. 2nd, 2014 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightly_litI met someone today who reminded me in some ways of my Kintsugi!Sam and the experience has really stayed with me. I need new glasses, so I had to go to the optometrist. (Thanks, creepy internet, for bombarding me with ads for Lenscrafters ever since a friend sent me a PERSONAL E-MAIL, IN MY PERSONAL E-MAIL ACCOUNT, that mentioned that store. Guess it ain’t just the NSA watching everything we do online; turns out it’s also corporate America. Where’s Sam and Dean when you need them? CREEPY MONSTERS! SAM AND DEAN, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF THEM FOR US, AND SHOW NO MERCY.)
Are there words for how much I hate going to the optometrist? “Terror” “horror” “dread” come to some degree close. My eyes are incredibly sensitive and I can barely get through most of the tests they give you (puff test, etc.) and I’ve had some bad experiences in the past with them acting like I’m a freak because of this. So to say I wasn’t looking forward to it would be a huge understatement.
Well, my gut feeling about this place was right on--everybody was awesome (and most of them also had sensitive eyes, so they totally understood! Including the person I’m about to tell you about--we feel exactly the same about it all), so nice, really worked with me to help me get through all the tests, gave me all kinds of new, interesting information; it was fantastic. So even if it cost twice as much as it’s ever cost me to get glasses before (!!! SO EXPENSIVE, HOLY CRAP!), I guess it was worth it!
Anyway, the part I was dreading was over and the part where I just had to select frames and all that came. I’d already encountered the guy who ended up helping us, and pegged him for a young, hip guy with a funky hairdo who was good at customer service, but didn’t think much more about it. Well, we ended up talking to him for probably about an hour and really getting to know each other. He was talking about his bucket list, and my friend happened to say, “Well, you’ve got plenty of time.” He hesitated like this was not a sentiment he could agree to, but didn’t say anything right then. Later, he opened up. Turned out he was 26 and was born with many serious health problems, including an organ deformity that required him to have a kidney transplant at 17. He recently learned transplanted kidneys usually only last about ten years, and said he’d pretty much exhausted all his options in terms of family members who might be able to donate nine years ago. “Am I gonna become some kind of ruthless kidney hunter?” he joked.
He was covered with interesting tattoos, including some that looked like his skin was peeled back to reveal gears and machinery underneath, which he connected to all his time getting dialysis. I asked if he felt like telling me about his tattoos, and he showed me the accessible ones, bright against his delicate skin. He kept talking about how he got a lot of them when he was quite young. Indeed, one of them was pretty fuzzy and old--but again, he’s only 26.
I don’t have any tattoos and I’ve never planned on getting any. I went with a friend once to get her tattoo, back when it was still something mainly bikers and sailors et al did. (The tattoo artist saw me looking at the flash sheets and made me this generous offer: that he would give me a tattoo for free as long as he could pick the tattoo and where he put it. ! Needless to say, I declined.) When I was younger, I figured if I ever found an image I was absolutely certain would resonate for me my whole life, I might get one. Later, I was glad I never did--I like having no “graffiti on the temple,” as my brother would say, and I can’t imagine anything ever would resonate for me for my whole life ... but I think if I knew from teenagehood or earlier that I probably wouldn’t live that long, I’d have gotten a bunch of tattoos, just like that guy. Use your body to say something while you’ve got it, you know?
Anybody got any good tattoo stories for me?
Are there words for how much I hate going to the optometrist? “Terror” “horror” “dread” come to some degree close. My eyes are incredibly sensitive and I can barely get through most of the tests they give you (puff test, etc.) and I’ve had some bad experiences in the past with them acting like I’m a freak because of this. So to say I wasn’t looking forward to it would be a huge understatement.
Well, my gut feeling about this place was right on--everybody was awesome (and most of them also had sensitive eyes, so they totally understood! Including the person I’m about to tell you about--we feel exactly the same about it all), so nice, really worked with me to help me get through all the tests, gave me all kinds of new, interesting information; it was fantastic. So even if it cost twice as much as it’s ever cost me to get glasses before (!!! SO EXPENSIVE, HOLY CRAP!), I guess it was worth it!
Anyway, the part I was dreading was over and the part where I just had to select frames and all that came. I’d already encountered the guy who ended up helping us, and pegged him for a young, hip guy with a funky hairdo who was good at customer service, but didn’t think much more about it. Well, we ended up talking to him for probably about an hour and really getting to know each other. He was talking about his bucket list, and my friend happened to say, “Well, you’ve got plenty of time.” He hesitated like this was not a sentiment he could agree to, but didn’t say anything right then. Later, he opened up. Turned out he was 26 and was born with many serious health problems, including an organ deformity that required him to have a kidney transplant at 17. He recently learned transplanted kidneys usually only last about ten years, and said he’d pretty much exhausted all his options in terms of family members who might be able to donate nine years ago. “Am I gonna become some kind of ruthless kidney hunter?” he joked.
He was covered with interesting tattoos, including some that looked like his skin was peeled back to reveal gears and machinery underneath, which he connected to all his time getting dialysis. I asked if he felt like telling me about his tattoos, and he showed me the accessible ones, bright against his delicate skin. He kept talking about how he got a lot of them when he was quite young. Indeed, one of them was pretty fuzzy and old--but again, he’s only 26.
I don’t have any tattoos and I’ve never planned on getting any. I went with a friend once to get her tattoo, back when it was still something mainly bikers and sailors et al did. (The tattoo artist saw me looking at the flash sheets and made me this generous offer: that he would give me a tattoo for free as long as he could pick the tattoo and where he put it. ! Needless to say, I declined.) When I was younger, I figured if I ever found an image I was absolutely certain would resonate for me my whole life, I might get one. Later, I was glad I never did--I like having no “graffiti on the temple,” as my brother would say, and I can’t imagine anything ever would resonate for me for my whole life ... but I think if I knew from teenagehood or earlier that I probably wouldn’t live that long, I’d have gotten a bunch of tattoos, just like that guy. Use your body to say something while you’ve got it, you know?
Anybody got any good tattoo stories for me?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-04-03 02:25 am (UTC)I'm guessing from being bombarded by ads that you use Google and Gmail. I hate that they use word search programs on people's private email accounts - what an invasion of privacy!
no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-05 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-09 02:12 am (UTC)In fact, I don't use Google/Gmail; it's AOL (although maybe that's just as bad). I've heard before that nothing on the internet is really private, but you'd think they wouldn't be so blatant about it! :-|