Rants & Essays

I Be Blinded

By Marcus Pan

Hmm...so I guess upon my return I shall lavish upon you a gift. One of my rambles. One of my sordid stories.

No wait, the last time I did the sordid thing I scared the pants off of some of you. Well, now that I think of it, that wasn't half bad in some cases, but others it could have been. But ok, I promise this will be NOTHING like the Olympics. Those in the know, they know wats I mean. And if you donts well then that's just the way it's gotta be, dig?

Now on to my story.

Wait, first a pre-intro. As you can tell by the meandering of my verbiage, I am once again in the midst of an all nighter upon my throne atop Manhattan. Ok, ok. I'm at my desk on the 7th floor eating pizza again. But the all night part is true. So if you're not used to my Midnight Rambling writing style where I go certifiably insane for a period of time and then end up closing my eyes and typing a bunch of garbage usually directly into a newsfeed for no other reason than I can, then you should stop here. Unless your head's already fucked up. Which is possible. I dare any of you to follow this.

Now onward. You see, I am going to be 30 years old in...um...less than half a year. Thirty years...three decades...360 months...10,950 days (give or take...I ain't doing shit with Leap Year figuring in my condition). Nearly ELEVEN THOUSAND days old. Fear me, I'm wise. 11K wise damnit. Don't forget this part...the age thing...it comes into play.

Lately I've been getting some really bad headaches. Migraine quality. The type that a handful of Tylenol don't help with. It just so happens I was reading "Silent Treatment" at the time and one of the story characters had an aneurysm. Needless to say this did give me pause.

No, calm down. I don't have an aneurysm. At least I don't think I do. Or at least it hasn't popped yet. But however there is a problem, and through consistent records, diagnosis and theoretical posturing (i.e. I brought it up to my wife who made a diagnosis prior to my finishing the question) I have come to the conclusion that I do believe I must get my eyes checked. Now I don't know what's going to be found, and I don't know if it's going to be bad and I don't even know if the eye-guy is going to go, "Nope, must be an aneurysm" or what have you.

But I do know, I'm going to be 30 years old, and it seems my eyes are going. That's the judgment so far. And frankly, I don't fucking like it. It doesn't bother me that I'm going to be 30. I'd feel the same way if I was 12. I think I'm doing quite a'right for 30, and I did a whole lot of crazy shit so there's no need for me to buy a Lamborghini and pick up college chicks. But the eye thing...together with the age thing...well I don't fucking like it, I tell you. Especially my eyes. I enlisted in the Air Force with 20/20 vision and I was going to be a pilot. Vroom...Woosh...Rat-A-Tat 'n all that shit. The career was cut short due to being caught doing some Really Bad Things (in which case I went the geek route, which worked out I guess), but that's not the point. The point is my eyes were 20/20...perfect...Rat-a-Tat perfect even. And now they might not be?

I'll keep you posted on the outcome. I haven't made the eye-guy appointment yet, but I will. These headaches are actually making me turn off the computer on occasion, and that's just not right.

Originally posted in alt.gothic, so if you don’t get some of the mentions in the first few paragraphs that’s why (i.e. “upon my return,” “Olympics,” etc.).