Saturday, September 19, 2015

Four eyes again

I am once again, able to see. I have a love / hate relationship with wearing glasses. I assume most who are forced to wear them have the same relationship. I broke both my glasses several months ago and have not had the time to get them replaced. I've been forced to rely on reading glasses to get by. Not ideal.

I did try contacts many years ago. Hated them. Tossed them after six months never to return. But I digress. I now have my new glasses. They're progressive lenses. My last pairs were such. I thought it would be difficult to get used to but it didn't take long. I was surprised, but after relying on readers for a couple months flat surfaces are warped a bit. I remember when I got my first pair some thirty-mumble-mumble years ago. I was working in a grocery meat department. I was sure I was going to cut my fingers off trying to get used to them.

The blessing is, I no longer have to put my phone into camera mode to read a restaurant menu. Glasses are a difficult lifestyle. I am an active person and they bounce all over the place. That's how I broke the last two pairs (at work). Maybe I should bill them for it. Na, they'd just say no.

I see fine at a distance, close, not so much. I keep a pair of readers in my car, a set on my work bench and a pair next to my bed. I might be able to ditch the ones in the car now. Well, maybe just save them for restaurants.

Now, I look around the store where you buy them and I see all these pictures of fantastic looking people wearing glasses; wide frames, dark frames, bug-eyed glasses, etc. They all stand out. But, those styles aren't for me. I would rather have a pair that someone really doesn't notice on my face. I also don't like thick frames at my periphery. I don't like to look to the side and see the temple arm of the glasses. I want to see where I'm looking. My Beloved has glasses that have thicker arms. What I don't like about that is she has beautiful eyes and from the side, I can't see her blues because of her frames.

With all that said, I am the proud owner of two new sets of glasses. My world is again in focus. I can even write at the computer without adjusting every five seconds. Oh well, it's nice to be able to see again.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Star Eagle Six

Once again I have stepped out of the bounds of my past writings. My current work in progress, (WIP) is a science fiction tale. It is the struggle of a small confederation of home world planets engaged in a bloody and consuming ten year war. The following is an excerpt from the book. I hope you enjoy it.

“So, what do you need from me exactly?”
“Practicality, captain. Practicality.” She pushed her fork into her food one last time before pushing the tray away. “I can look up the specs on the Talon all day long, but what I can’t look up is real-world scenarios. Any piece of equipment should live up close to design specs, but what does it really do? How fast does it turn; do its engines cycle hot? You know, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Andren.” Turner lifted his fork, pausing as he thought for a moment. “The Talon is simply the best fighter I ever flew. It’s design specs run right down the map like they’re supposed to.” He lifted his hand, taking his first bite. He raised his brow at the unexpected flavor. “This is pretty good.”
“Humph. I think I just lost all respect for you,” she replied.
“In all seriousness, there hasn’t been a better fighter built by any of the home world planets.”
“Then why did they replace it?”
“For the same reasons engineers replace everything, no disrespect intended,” he said as he looked up to her. “Someone has a better idea or technology improves to such an extent that it allows for evolution.” He dipped his fork again into his plate. “That doesn’t always mean it’s better though.”
“Have you ever piloted the Harrier?”
“Never had the chance,” he replied. “Besides, I couldn’t do it for long.”
“Evolution, by dear Andren. Evolution.” He shoveled another mouthful, letting it slide down gently. He leaned back, letting his hand come to rest on the table, the fork gripped tightly. “Fighters now are all tied into your brain. They react to your reactions, to your thoughts. It’s instinctual, but that comes with a price.” Turner crossed his arms and stared down at the table. He seemed lost in thought.
“What kind of price?”
The pause in the conversation hung in the air. Turner continued to stare, his eyes unfocused.
“A loss of humanity.” He blinked and looked back up at her. “We are in danger of becoming what we abhor. This mechanized society where we become one with our weapons, one with our ships all in the name of saving ourselves.”
“If we don’t save ourselves, what is the point of this war, Frank?” She leaned forward planting her elbows firmly on the table, her posture rigid. “We must survive, damn it. I won’t be wiped from the face of the universe without a fight.” Her faced reddened as the passion in her voice began to climax. I will not let my planet die in vain.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean …”
“Of course you did!” She pushed herself away from the table. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
“Andren no, please.” He leaned forward reaching his hand across the table, his touch falling short. “We’ve both been through a terrible ordeal.”
She sat silent staring, her blue eyes burning with a renewed fire.