WARNING: EXTREME FRUSTRATION UNDER PRESSURE OF ATTEMPTING TO BE POLITE
THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING
Seriously, here be dragons. Okay, the dragon is pretty stoned and well fed, so it is not all that likely to get fatal, but still, I would not listen to that scaly bitch rant.
Meh, your neurons, mate.
I just got done explaining how I crochet by feel to a lovely woman who I'm making a hat for. I finally stopped her very kindly and considerately framed questions with "Well, I have been doing this since I was five years old." I had a life and many skills before my vision began to degrade. My hands have not become crippled suddenly because my eyes are being assholes. Neither has my brain. . .much. I think between those two things, I can get a few things done.
Getting social again after being sick is fun. Much more than I honestly thought it would be. I was planning to move down to Florida and find a corner in which to moulder and and be done with the world. I'd get my Misanthropic Enduring Haters (Or MEH) Membership and let the world go fuck itself.
Well I kinda failed at that. APPARENTLY I'm constitutionally unsuited to a life of misanthropic self-exile. I tried folks. I really did. I do not have the midichlorians to keep that ship in that swamp. I'm noticing some. . .awkwardness? People - reasonably so - want to know how my blind works. They want to know how much they can share with me visually, and how much they have to describe. I get it. I REALLY do. For a very long time, I didn't have an answer. Now the answer is "Not much, depending on how close you are and what glasses I'm wearing." Not precisely satisfactory, let me tell you.
I'm somewhat tired of it. It isn't really fair or reasonable of me to BE tired of it. These people are being nice. They are being kind and compassionate. They are attempting to understand my situation. They are even being so kind as to tell me that I don't have to answer them! I get that. I'm just sick of talking about it. Which is shitty, I admit all these facts. I also think it is probably pretty darned normal. Meh. It still sucks that in the face of kindness & compassion that my response is to think "ARRRHHGGGG!" while my mouth is saying "No it's FINE. Today I'm seeing. . . .", because I recognize precisely how kind they are being and don't really want to blow them up for being so when I'm feeling tired of all of this shit.
(An aside: Most of those reading this already know that I'm more than capable of sussing out the kind from the nosy. The nosy get turned into creatures of varying crispiness. I give points for style.)
So, Here's how my blind works: The Info blurb.
I can see out to about 5 feet, sorta. The world in that five foot bubble looks like a blurry moving impressionists painting. One badly done, with some ink splotches scattered about from the artist fight with his wife the night before when he found her shagging his cousin - whom he'd believed was both gay and HIS secret lover. Beyond that five foot bubble, the world looks like a movie shot that is so out of focus that you can see light and dark and the horizon, along with some blotches of color, and that is all. Its an old celluloid movie, and the film has degraded a little. There are black dots here and there from where the film has been eaten away in little holes.
I have no depth perception, so the world is flat to me. The curb and pot-hole blend into the flat around them. I knock into things and knock them over - unless I'm going fast and/or the object is pretty solid. Then it knocks me over.
Up close is somewhat different, due to magnifiers. (Up close for these purposes is defined as within 18 inches - usually less.) I wear 4x glasses for reading my blown up text. In order to read normal text (i.e. 12 point font) I need to add another 5x magnifier. For hand work that I have to see, I have a head band that had different magnifiers that I can put in and attempt to work with. Somethings, I've been relearning by feel - for obvious reasons. One reason I can't see the sense in owning a smartphone is that to see it with my magnifiers, I'd need it to be the size of a full 8x10 tablet - or larger. My computer monitor is huge and on a swing arm so that I can have it about 7 inches from my face. I can only see one sixth of it at a time with any clarity. When I sew, I do so in full light with my magnifying headband on. I have to sew with Nick about because I can't thread my own needle, save by sheer blind luck - which has happened twice in the past ten years (Yes, I do try on my own. Every damned time. Rocks got nothing on my stubborn.)
Colors are a crap-shoot. Some I see fine. Some I don't. I ask Nick to be my color eyes. He's an awesome dude that way. I prefer bold colors. Subtle is lost on me (on SO many levels). What I CAN see is if things go with each other, or are off. I just couldn't tell you if its a green or blue going with white or yellow. Or was that peach? The blue was purple? Huh. . .
Some things are gone. I don't do any fine needlework anymore. I don't embroider, cross-stitch, or hand sew any more. If I can see my stitches, they're crap, and I know it. I don't draw or paint anymore, save for the roughest of concept sketches I might make for notes for myself. I miss some of those things occasionally. I've put others in their place and am having tons of fun so . . .not that often. It really isn't all that bad. I was never so good at any of my hobbies that my not being able to do these activities is a loss to humanity. I know that. I have other things to occupy my mind and hands and am happy with those things.
When out in the world, unless someone is describing what's around me, I don't see a whole lot. If someone is describing what is there, I can fill in the fuzzies with what I know of the shape of the blob and what I know of the nature of the being. If someone points and says "That is a tree of X variety." my brain will fill in the fuzzy shape with my memory of what that tree is - if I have one. If not, I try to make a note to look that up later. I'd say I actually succeed in doing that about two thirds of the time. I'm basically filling in the landscape with clip art from my head. So, yeah, I do live in a pretty idealized world. I wasn't intentional I assure you. To this day I have no idea if the being who helped me in the dregs of Baltimore that day was just a very tall hooker, or a very sparkly trans - or both. It remains irrelevant, save as an example of my visual acuity. I also live in a very small world (that Baltimore story is one very good reason why). I have to memorize places. New places oare tense making because falling down hurts and knocking things over is embarrassing. So is people telling you it is all really alright when you've worked retail and know damned well that it isn't.
I have no words for telling you how much getting lost sucks. Well, okay. this is me. I have the words, but that would make this TLDR for EVERYONE and it already is close for most.
As far as faces go, I let most people be varying shades of fuzzy. Let me tell you - at far enough away all races REALLY do look precisely the same. For me that isn't all that far. To learn a new person's face is . . .intimate. I basically have to get close enough to kiss you. I like a whole lot of the people I've met lately a whole lot . . . and not that much - yet. Most of the people I meet now, I will never know what they look like. For those I've known for years: You never grow older with me. To me you are as the last time I truly saw you. There are a few exceptions for this. There are people - damned few - with whom I am willing to get close enough to truly see their face. This is the first time I have shared this beyond a handful of intimates. I don't want people walking up and literally getting in my face. My response is likely to be "FACE PUNCH". I am REALLY okay with letting this be an intimacy. No. REALLY.
And that's the nut-shell aged version of my not-so-fine whine "How My Blind Works". If you want more details than that, well just like sex, you can buy me dinner and maybe flowers first. Get to know me. You'll learn.
THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING
Seriously, here be dragons. Okay, the dragon is pretty stoned and well fed, so it is not all that likely to get fatal, but still, I would not listen to that scaly bitch rant.
Meh, your neurons, mate.
I just got done explaining how I crochet by feel to a lovely woman who I'm making a hat for. I finally stopped her very kindly and considerately framed questions with "Well, I have been doing this since I was five years old." I had a life and many skills before my vision began to degrade. My hands have not become crippled suddenly because my eyes are being assholes. Neither has my brain. . .much. I think between those two things, I can get a few things done.
Getting social again after being sick is fun. Much more than I honestly thought it would be. I was planning to move down to Florida and find a corner in which to moulder and and be done with the world. I'd get my Misanthropic Enduring Haters (Or MEH) Membership and let the world go fuck itself.
Well I kinda failed at that. APPARENTLY I'm constitutionally unsuited to a life of misanthropic self-exile. I tried folks. I really did. I do not have the midichlorians to keep that ship in that swamp. I'm noticing some. . .awkwardness? People - reasonably so - want to know how my blind works. They want to know how much they can share with me visually, and how much they have to describe. I get it. I REALLY do. For a very long time, I didn't have an answer. Now the answer is "Not much, depending on how close you are and what glasses I'm wearing." Not precisely satisfactory, let me tell you.
I'm somewhat tired of it. It isn't really fair or reasonable of me to BE tired of it. These people are being nice. They are being kind and compassionate. They are attempting to understand my situation. They are even being so kind as to tell me that I don't have to answer them! I get that. I'm just sick of talking about it. Which is shitty, I admit all these facts. I also think it is probably pretty darned normal. Meh. It still sucks that in the face of kindness & compassion that my response is to think "ARRRHHGGGG!" while my mouth is saying "No it's FINE. Today I'm seeing. . . .", because I recognize precisely how kind they are being and don't really want to blow them up for being so when I'm feeling tired of all of this shit.
(An aside: Most of those reading this already know that I'm more than capable of sussing out the kind from the nosy. The nosy get turned into creatures of varying crispiness. I give points for style.)
So, Here's how my blind works: The Info blurb.
I can see out to about 5 feet, sorta. The world in that five foot bubble looks like a blurry moving impressionists painting. One badly done, with some ink splotches scattered about from the artist fight with his wife the night before when he found her shagging his cousin - whom he'd believed was both gay and HIS secret lover. Beyond that five foot bubble, the world looks like a movie shot that is so out of focus that you can see light and dark and the horizon, along with some blotches of color, and that is all. Its an old celluloid movie, and the film has degraded a little. There are black dots here and there from where the film has been eaten away in little holes.
I have no depth perception, so the world is flat to me. The curb and pot-hole blend into the flat around them. I knock into things and knock them over - unless I'm going fast and/or the object is pretty solid. Then it knocks me over.
Up close is somewhat different, due to magnifiers. (Up close for these purposes is defined as within 18 inches - usually less.) I wear 4x glasses for reading my blown up text. In order to read normal text (i.e. 12 point font) I need to add another 5x magnifier. For hand work that I have to see, I have a head band that had different magnifiers that I can put in and attempt to work with. Somethings, I've been relearning by feel - for obvious reasons. One reason I can't see the sense in owning a smartphone is that to see it with my magnifiers, I'd need it to be the size of a full 8x10 tablet - or larger. My computer monitor is huge and on a swing arm so that I can have it about 7 inches from my face. I can only see one sixth of it at a time with any clarity. When I sew, I do so in full light with my magnifying headband on. I have to sew with Nick about because I can't thread my own needle, save by sheer blind luck - which has happened twice in the past ten years (Yes, I do try on my own. Every damned time. Rocks got nothing on my stubborn.)
Colors are a crap-shoot. Some I see fine. Some I don't. I ask Nick to be my color eyes. He's an awesome dude that way. I prefer bold colors. Subtle is lost on me (on SO many levels). What I CAN see is if things go with each other, or are off. I just couldn't tell you if its a green or blue going with white or yellow. Or was that peach? The blue was purple? Huh. . .
Some things are gone. I don't do any fine needlework anymore. I don't embroider, cross-stitch, or hand sew any more. If I can see my stitches, they're crap, and I know it. I don't draw or paint anymore, save for the roughest of concept sketches I might make for notes for myself. I miss some of those things occasionally. I've put others in their place and am having tons of fun so . . .not that often. It really isn't all that bad. I was never so good at any of my hobbies that my not being able to do these activities is a loss to humanity. I know that. I have other things to occupy my mind and hands and am happy with those things.
When out in the world, unless someone is describing what's around me, I don't see a whole lot. If someone is describing what is there, I can fill in the fuzzies with what I know of the shape of the blob and what I know of the nature of the being. If someone points and says "That is a tree of X variety." my brain will fill in the fuzzy shape with my memory of what that tree is - if I have one. If not, I try to make a note to look that up later. I'd say I actually succeed in doing that about two thirds of the time. I'm basically filling in the landscape with clip art from my head. So, yeah, I do live in a pretty idealized world. I wasn't intentional I assure you. To this day I have no idea if the being who helped me in the dregs of Baltimore that day was just a very tall hooker, or a very sparkly trans - or both. It remains irrelevant, save as an example of my visual acuity. I also live in a very small world (that Baltimore story is one very good reason why). I have to memorize places. New places oare tense making because falling down hurts and knocking things over is embarrassing. So is people telling you it is all really alright when you've worked retail and know damned well that it isn't.
I have no words for telling you how much getting lost sucks. Well, okay. this is me. I have the words, but that would make this TLDR for EVERYONE and it already is close for most.
As far as faces go, I let most people be varying shades of fuzzy. Let me tell you - at far enough away all races REALLY do look precisely the same. For me that isn't all that far. To learn a new person's face is . . .intimate. I basically have to get close enough to kiss you. I like a whole lot of the people I've met lately a whole lot . . . and not that much - yet. Most of the people I meet now, I will never know what they look like. For those I've known for years: You never grow older with me. To me you are as the last time I truly saw you. There are a few exceptions for this. There are people - damned few - with whom I am willing to get close enough to truly see their face. This is the first time I have shared this beyond a handful of intimates. I don't want people walking up and literally getting in my face. My response is likely to be "FACE PUNCH". I am REALLY okay with letting this be an intimacy. No. REALLY.
And that's the nut-shell aged version of my not-so-fine whine "How My Blind Works". If you want more details than that, well just like sex, you can buy me dinner and maybe flowers first. Get to know me. You'll learn.
