I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist next week. My vision has deteriorated to the point that simple off-the-rack reading glasses — which I have four or five pair around — just don’t fix my vision. My astigmatism is enough now that just magnifying words on a page or screen isn’t enough. So this time I think I’ll have to get prescription lenses with actual correction, (“medicine”), in them. I’m still struggling with the whole eyeglasses thing, but as my job is all about reading, all day long, I have to suck it up and do this fully.

For a look back on my vision and eyeglasses evolution, I offer these old blog posts:

The First Thing to Go  – December 2007

Accepting Eyeglasses – July 2008

Buying Glasses – September 2008

Buying Eyeglasses – February 2011

Bullgrit

A discussion on a message board elsewhere reminded me of this Best of the Blog adventure.

I went to visit a girl friend one evening and found her hanging out with two other friends, (two sisters). They were getting ready to head out for a night of clubbing, and they invited me to go with. I, of course, said, “Sure.”

As we were walking out of my friend’s house, they warned me:

“It’s a gay and lesbian club,” my friend explained.

When I was younger, I often had gay guys hit on me in one way or another, in normal, every-day situations. The first couple of times it happened, it bothered me. But then I realized it was a compliment and I easily and politely just explained I’m not gay. No muss, no fuss, no embarrassment for anyone. I wasn’t effeminate or anything, but I was thin, single, and neat.

It happened enough times in my 20s that by the time I grew out of the “look,” brushing off the mistake was almost a habit — I once said, “I’m not gay,” to a guy who wasn’t either but was just making small talk to pass the time standing in line.

Fortunately, apparently no woman ever thought I was gay, so setting off men’s “gaydar” didn’t seem to interfere with women’s perceptions.

Sort of related: While cleaning out some old stuff, I came across some old notebooks from my high school days. In one was a daily journal I had to keep as part of English class homework. Reading the journal is cracking me up. For instance:

Sept 12: School is still great. It seems people think that this girl I’ve been talking to is my girlfriend. But their [sic] wrong. I have no girlfriend and won’t [sic] none.

That was from my junior year, and I was 16 years old. Oh the ignorance from inexperience. It wouldn’t take long or much to get me to change my tune about girlfriends.

Bullgrit

My dad passed away almost exactly three years ago. Although we went through tons of paperwork and old family memorabilia during the first year after his death, I still have some boxes of . . . stuff . . . to be gone through. I was doing this over the weekend. In one box, among old documents and photos, I came across this 45 year old letter:

[Click to open larger image for easier reading.]

That $5 bill was still paperclipped to the letter.

Bullgrit

While on vacation a few weeks ago, the wife and I visited our alma mater — University of North Carolina at Wilmington. Classes are in session, so we got to see the whole campus full of “kids” and activity. There was even a hippie playing guitar on the steps in front of the library. Classic.

The core of the campus is essentially just as we remember it from when we studied there in the early 90s, but it has grown out quite a bit. There are lots of new buildings. If I remember correctly, there were around 5,000 students during our days, but we learned there are almost 15,000 now. It doesn’t really feel more crowded, but then, there’s more area for everyone to spread out over now.

There are bicycles everywhere, and skateboards, in addition to the normal walkers. When Wifegrit and I were students there, we lived in [separate] apartments just off campus, within walking distance. We walked onto, off of, and all around campus to get to our classes. We walked all over again, during this visit. We went to our old buildings and peaked into some of our old classrooms. I remember the buildings being much bigger than how they seem now. I know that’s a feeling most people have when visiting places of their childhood, but this is a college — I’m the same size now that I was then. It shouldn’t feel any different in size. Odd.

Walking across the campus and through the buildings, I felt strangely young and old at the same time. There were moments I forgot I was about 25 years older than everyone around us. I felt like we were just a college couple walking around. But then my mood would change, and I could feel the quarter century of life experiences I’ve had since these kids’ ages. I saw a few college couples around, and could see how they acted very different compared to us with our 20+ years together. Young people still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase of their relationships, versus us as a mature couple very much used to and comfortable with each other. Everything I saw while on campus just made me smile.

One interesting place we visited while on campus was the university book store. Although it’s in a different location than it used to be, it looked very much like I remember it.

But I did find something crazy different: the book prices. Holy shit books are ridiculously expensive! I remember books were expensive when I had to buy them — like $20-$50 each. Wifegrit had some books for her nursing classes that cost $100 or more, but they were notoriously expensive. Now, though:

Those first two examples above are from my degree, (English); $183 for a new book? And the junior year biology book: $279?! You can buy a TV for the price of these books. And note that the BIO book is just one of three needed for that class. I bought used books back in my day, when they were available, (and they weren’t always available), but even the used price is insane.

I just checked Amazon.com for these books:

• Technical Communications (new) = $113
• Functional Anatomy of the Vertebrates (new) = $172

When I was going for a Computer Science degree, one of my professors literally wrote the class text book. He taught the class almost verbatim by the book — you could follow along with his every word in lecture, from the book. Had I known that at the time I had to purchase his book, I would have saved my money.

I would love to know how much money the text book publishing industry makes each year with their mandatory purchases from a captive audience that lines up to spend borrowed money on their education.

Bullgrit