Kinda Funny
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**Update: I made this into a video and read it aloud, if you want to hear the jokes from an actual human voice. The essay remains below!**

I recently got PRK surgery done on my left eye (yup, just the left). While prepping for it, I read approximately one million "My PRK Experience" blog posts, and I wanted to write my own for a couple reasons:

  • I haven't read any blog posts about getting just one eye done.
  • I thought it would be funny.
  • This seems better than me telling people I had laser eye surgery done, and them going, "like Lasik?" And me going, "haha yeah I got Laser Eyes," and them being confused, and me being like:

i. Why?

I hate glasses, I hate the way I look in them, I hate the way they press against the bridge of my nose, I hate how disgustingly dirty they get without me even noticing, I hate how many germs probably just hang out on them, having a goddamn party an inch away from my eyeballs.

This is why I typically wore contacts. Well, contact. Only one of my eyes needs a corrective lens. I diligently wore monthly contacts in my left eye for years. And I was careful with them, because I’ve read those freaky articles about flesh-eating amoebas devouring people’s corneas because they left their contacts in too long, and I have anxiety issues. I never slept in them, I kept them clean, and you know what? They were still a massive pain in the ass.

The tipping point: three times in two weeks, my contact fell out of my eye because my eye was so dry. Do you know how much monthly contacts cost? A six-pack of monthly contacts is, like, sixty bucks. So I literally cried out thirty hard-earned dollars. I was crying money. Enough was enough.

This was what compelled me to get expensive, excruciatingly painful elective surgery.

This summer, before returning to the hellscape of post-secondary education, I'm spending a month in Montréal and a month in Toronto. While I'm living in Montréal, I thought it might be nice to dip away for a couple days to New York-- a city that feels very far from my hometown of Vancouver, but only a hop, skip, and a throw (or an 8 hour bus ride, such as it was) away from Montréal. My longtime friend (and current roommate, shouts out to him for hooking me up with a spare room in he and his friends' place) Charles was down to join me, so we set about planning our lil weekend away.

So I’m 16 and in grade eleven of secondary school, which is basically the same thing as high school except it starts in grade eight instead of grade nine. A few weeks ago, I was re-watching 90210 and realized that all of the characters were meant to be the same age as me. Since then I’ve been thinking a lot about how drastically different my experience in school has been to the usual North American narrative of high school that’s presented in fiction.