3-D Vision

As I was driving to work this morning, I noticed that street signs looked strange – kind of swimmy, with that “Magic Eye” effect going on. Well, obviously, my first thought is that I must have glaucoma or am developing a cataract or some other such horrendous eye condition. Turns out, that’s not the case. At some point between putting in my contacts and leaving the house this morning, I lost my right contact. And no glasses “in sight” (they were only a five minute drive back to my apartment, but I was pressed for time and the result would be a ten minute detour). So, all day I’ve been at bit off, because my depth perception is hazy and 2-D looks like 3-D. I never really stopped to think about what the world would look like without one contact, but I if I had I think I would have assumed that it would look closer to the way does with no contacts or glasses: very fuzzy and illegible. Actually it looks closer to normal, corrected vision, but in an alternate dimension. Spooky. I’m just glad I didn’t have my colored contacts this morning.

Kare Bear Scare

So, I like horror movies and I’m not particularly frightened at the thought of walking down dark streets in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ghetto (I know that I should be, but after too many years of living around USC, I’ve become a bit desensitized). Why is it then, that I am such a wimp when it comes to haunted houses/mazes/pumpkin patches/etc? When faced with situations that actually are dangerous and certainly warrant fright and caution, I can say to myself, “what’s the worst that could happen? Afterall, since I know where I’m going when I die, there is nothing to worry about, ultimately.” Ah yes, but fictitious danger is different…and I’m not quite sure why.

The provocation for today’s musings is a trip that I took to Knott’s Scary Farm this past Saturday night with friends. I got completely freaked out, including chattering teeth and the whole bit - a total Shaggy/Scooby complex. And this was all without going in a single maze, walkthru, or attraction of any sort. Just the costumed mild-apprehension-mongers milling about were enough to make my hair stand on end. Sitting now in the cold clear light of my computer screen, I wonder how I managed to get so scared and worked up. Maybe it’s the whole notion of the fictional becoming a physical presence. And then having it breath down my neck (which actually and literally happened). Or maybe, as I said before, I’m a wimp.

Zoinks!