I first got glasses in high school when it was getting increasingly hard to see my friends across the courtyard and in the halls, and the chalkboards grew cloudy. I wouldn't wear them much at first, only in class. But soon enough it became clear that I needed them all the time. I begged contacts out of my parents and suddenly the world was clear.
A couple of years ago I decided I would save a buck or two by getting glasses that weren't made with the fancy thin-lens material. The optical guy laughed, and basically said I was nuts. My silence told him that I had no idea what he was talking about. He showed me a lens that would be my prescription strength without the fancy plastic. I was horrified at the thickness, the weight, the weird yellowy color. I went with the thin lenses.
At night if I get up to go to the bathroom I put on my glasses. The bathroom is only feet away.
If I take my glasses off now the keyboard would look fuzzy, the monitor a blurred mess.
When I moved into my house I could not stand the idea of white, colorless walls. Every room was instantly painted in a splash of deep color. I don't remember all of the names from the paint chips, but I know the greenish color in my bedroom is called "Bunch of Cloves." Something about it always makes me think of Casablanca. Like Humphrey Bogart's room would have been painted with this strange , cool green. My kitchen is a sunny yellow, as is my daughter's room. My son's room is purple and the living room a deep brown called "Common Ground." Like dirt. But it is vivid, and I love it next to the classic red in the dining room. We have no white walls. To me it would be like drinking luke-warm water to have to look at Cream or Antique White or Eggshell. I need a little ice, a slice of lemon, a spring of mint. Every wall is food for the eyes.
My house is filled with pictures. On the walls, the tables, the kids rooms. I have stacks of photo albums. I don't scrap book, but each album is carefully labeled with the events and dates of the pictures. I am obsessed with my photo albums. I regularly take them out and mull over the old friends, the big parties, the little moments. I so often want to dive into the scene, make it happen again, re-live that moment. I cannot look at my pictures enough. And I take new ones all the time. Even the digital ones are carefully uploaded and stored on-line. My photos have always been tremendously important to me, even if they aren't particularly exciting to anyone else.
My dreams are so vivid I can remember patterns from dresses, the color of someone's eyes, the position of the furniture. My dreams are literally like vivid color movies. The best ones are ones in which I am swimming or flying above water. The water in these dreams is so blue. So blue. I can see for miles either from the air or from the body of water in which I float or swim. The horizon is endless.
But I always wake up feeling for my glasses, disappointed that my daytime eyesight is never as clear as my nighttime visions.