Being the Weirdo Kid With Glasses
(And an Eye Patch)
While most kids were beginning after-school sports, I was picked up for a different sort of “athletic” endeavor: eye training.
In a continued effort to strengthen my eye muscles, I went to a recommended specialist. Beyond his florescent-lit office, there was a dark inner sanctum surrounded by stations. It was like walking from day to night.
I sat hunched over a dark station, and watched a spirograph spinning in front of me. This geometric roulette of curves tested my ability to focus.
I then moved to the next station of moving images. Task: Watch the red fox jump over the white fence.
Then it would flip: watch the white fox jump over a red fence.
Then they took away the foxes and the fences, and there was nothing.
Blank. Black.
In this space, my brain was supposed to remember what it saw and replay the red fox jumping a white fence. Or…
