--Ralph Waldo Emerson

"It's like nisim and niflaos, the way your eyelid's healing."

Miracles and wonders, said my ocular plastic surgeon, when I went to see him today. Not exactly the sort of official medical response I'd have expected, but I'm hardly about to complain.

Anyway, yeah, apparently my eyelid's doing much better than anybody had expected, and while he hasn't given me a firm opinion yet, he's definitely sounding like he'd rather not do any surgery at all. The only thing potentially left to fix would be replacing my lost eyelashes, and that, apparently, is not so simple. That'd involve transplanting some of my eyebrows, and they might not grow back in properly, and, well, basically, what he asked was, "could you live without the eyelashes?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"Well... umm... I guess... if I had to... but..."

He told me to come back in six months, and we'll see how things look then.

But, well, even so, I know the physical attribute I look at first is the eyes. And, looking at mine now, something definitely seems off, even if it takes a moment to put your finger on what it is.

'Course, if I couldn't get general anesthesia for the operations, all bets are off. The idea of being conscious through something like that is not my idea of fun. Okay, I managed it a few months ago, but it's not as if I had a choice in the matter.

The rest of you still here? So, the annual English Department writing contest deadline was Friday, and I ended up submitting entries in non-fiction and poetry. (I'd originally hoped to enter something in fiction, too, but didn't have time to revise it.)

In non-fiction, I submitted three essays: "Female Roles in King Lear and Dr. Faustus" (originally written for British Literature I; there are no female roles in Dr. Faustus, which is much of my point), "The Seussian Contribution to the Sexual Revolution" (originally written for Clean Sheets), and "Baseball (An Imperfect Extended Metaphor)" (originally written for this entry, and included at the last second). All were revised, but not very heavily.

For poetry, I submitted my entire final portfolio from last semester's poetry workshop, as-is.

I mention all this here primarily because, hey, this is my diary, and I wanted to have a record of this.

I was surprised at how short the form was. All they ask is how many people live in your residence, what the status of that residence is (owned, rented, etc.), and then, for each person, their name, phone number, sex, age, date of birth (redundant, I know), and, finally, whether the person is Spanish / Hispanic / Latino, and, in any event, what the person's race is.

Me, I checked the "other" box and wrote in "Human" for the last of those. 'Cause that's what I am.

I'd expected more questions, though. I dunno... economic standing, party affiliation, number of Debbie Gibson albums owned, whatever. It's a bit anticlimactic for it to be this simple.

I feel guilty about the first one. Uncle Aussie took it on Friday, but I didn't update until now, being either swamped, zonked, or both. And she's moved on to other topics, and doesn't seem to archive her entries, so it's too late. (I did inform my notify list first thing, at least.) Still, check out her current entry.

Otherwise, over in the realm of archived entries, check out the answers of Renee, of Notes to Myself; Mar, of Neurotica; and Carrie, of Earthmovers and Sandcastles.

Mar used the Gap for the commercial question, which is fine with me. In fact, in hindsight, I don't know why I didn't offer that as an option in the first place; it would have fit right in. And Carrie's Old Navy / Viagra spot is a must-read.

Oo, wait. This just in... Chris of Hoot Island just posted his responses. Be advised that this is great reading... but also be advised that Hoot Island is an adult site, with a warning screen and pictures of nekkid people and everything, so click at your own discretion. (The entry in question has no pictures of nekkid people, just the raciest answers this survey is likely to get.)