My optometric destiny (and beau monde)

Two weeks ago I had an eye exam at Eyedare in the Mission - not too far from my old place; and my eyes are generally healthy (hell yeah!), but I did need a slightly stronger prescription on my glasses. So, I submitted my, ahem, Prada frames to have the lenses replaced; a day and a half later I picked them up.

And they languished in my errand bag; I didn't put them on until the following day, when I submitted myself to fashionable cafe life (to do some work on the ol' laptop). But when I did, I entered a new - and uncomfortable - phase of existence (temporarily, at least - read on). Life was crystal clear; life was also vertiginous.

Can you think of a worse proposition?

You experience a familiar, yet faded, version of everything around you - insofar that you are distracted from "just being"; YOU ARE NOT ALL THERE. And so, why be there at all; you ain't that special to not give 100% (yo). Just think: in your hands, an instant infection of the swirlies. Do you dare indulge in them to experience the eyesight of an eagle? Is your desire for such a deliriously avian attribute so intense; is your prey that far away (and how would you catch it anyway)? You're at a damn cafe.

Give it time, they say. And I did.

Lo, and behold, I put on the glasses a handful of times over the next week or so - with the same, disappointing, effects. However, yesterday, at Russian class, eyes and brains aligned; I had - to my surprise - no problems whatsoever when my two fuzzed-out eyes became four border-crisping machines. And I felt the freedom of those who can choose their own optometric destiny (and beau monde).

And to that, I say, до днa!