I have an odd relationship with my glasses. I hated them at first, but at the same time, I do have to wear to see clearly. And it is my own fault that I even need them, as I have a bad habit of looking at bright screens and as a result, I ended up worsening my vision. And I dislike the concept of contact lenses, because they feel too alien to me. Imagine putting something your eye and not hating it. It couldn’t be me. I hate, hate my glasses, but now years later, I can’t imagine myself without. I guess this kind of a stockholm syndrome of sorts?

And I can’t help but wonder about others who also might share a similar sentiment, people who have grown attached, for lack of a better word, to the assistance tools they need to go through life normally. For instance, being attached to your crutches and your wheelchair if you can’t move without assistance. I have even seen people take pride in the fact in being disabled! Now, this might be close-minded of me, but I don’t see how not being to go anywhere without your tools is anything to take pride in. Acceptance, yes, but not exactly pride.

Then again, it might be because that they’re disabled that they view things differently. Just because they value their disability as part of who they are doesn’t exactly mean that society shouldn’t listen to their pleas to put fewer obstacles in their or anyone else who’s disabled, path.

And after all, almost nothing in life which is worth having is an unalloyed good. We’re all sometimes driven to distraction by our family, our friends, our hobbies, or our jobs, no matter how much we love them overall. Even people endowed with extraordinary beauty or talents will sometimes feel the downside of those blessings.

But on the other hand, a person valuing their disability doesn’t just mean that they can find some scrap of comfort in the way that they or others deal with their disability, as sometimes people find some comfort after a bereavement, by learning about their inner strength or deepening their relationship with friends. Plenty of disabled people value their lives with disability, not just despite their disability.

This week, I had the luck of seeing roadkill, not once, not twice, but three times. I’m not a stranger to looking at dead things, but the fact that it happened three times so far to three different animals is kind of sobering. Not that I was driving under the influence, but it got me thinking about my own mortality. These animals were once living breathing beings. Now they are carcasses on the road side, if lucky. If I die, will I be like that, ultimately reduced to a obituary in a newspaper? And it got me thinking about my own mother.

She is suffering from cancer, and due to my own cowardice of not being able to confront it, I don’t know what type. We thought her cancer was cured, but it came back, and I worry every day that she will drop dead. And I don’t know what I will be do with myself and my family if she does. She’s the family’s backbone, and if she dies, we all break. Can you imagine that, all of your efforts, all of your actions that take, ceasing to mean anything once you die? I can understand dying surrounded by loved ones, and knowing that you live a life well-lived. That’s the ideal death to have. But I keep thinking that one of us will die unceremoniously, so suddenly that we as a family can never recover. And I keep being afraid. I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I curse the luck of others for having a blessed life. But I always tell myself that I don’t know what they’ve been through. But some days, I sometimes wish I didn’t care.

So, earlier today, I was sent out to drive to get an order from McDonalds. It sounded simple enough, I just had to go through the drive-thru and repeat the order number, and they would give it to me. Little did I know, that it would become more complicated. My mom told me it was just a happy meal and an Oreo McFlurry, but she did not tell me the contents of the Happy Meal would be. So when I got home, my mom told me that I got a wrong order. Yes, I got a Happy Meal Order with an Oreo McFlurry, but it was from another paying customer who also placed an order. And my mom got mad at me, even though I just did what I was told. I went there by car, and recited the order number and got the order that was given to me. I’m not sure why she got mad at me, for it, as if it was my fault that employees there got the order mixed up.

It got me thinking of exactly why the employees would mess up, however, and it got me thinking about my own behavior. I behaved like a robot, like a cog in the machine, simply doing what I was told instead of asking questions. And from that, I figured the employee was the same way. They did not ask me the specifics of the order, only that an order that matched the criteria I gave. It’s almost scary how nobody in this situation questioned any further than was necessary. Yes, I was a customer, and yes they were just the producer, but there should have been more inquiry between the both of us.

And I got thinking even further, about the things we accept in our society that we don’t question. Like, how it’s normal for children to stand up and recite the pledge of allegiance, which is practically indoctrination when you get right down to it. And I think it’s mainly apathy that’s led to this, and things like the bystander effect. If it doesn’t personally involve you, it’s hard to empathize with someone over any issue. At the end of the day, it’s just food, and it’s just money that’s being traded.

This dreary September 23rd morning, my car windows fogged up, and I tried to get to Campus using the highways. It went as well as you expected. I was blind as a bat, and had to stop at the side of the road so I did not get into an accident or get myself killed. I e-mailed my professor that I could not make it to class this morning, and she said that was fine.

As I waited in my car, wiping away the fog from the windows, it got me thinking about why I was so determined to get to Campus. I, of course, wanted to pass my class, so I strive to attend every session as much as I can. But was one class worth risking my life for? Especially after learning that she recorded her lesson.

This got me thinking further about other people as well, people who would risk life or limb to ensure their daily lives could go as smoothly as possible. For example, essential workers, or workers who could not afford to stay at home and be unemployed. They risked infection upon themselves and others to ensure that they would survive. And I have to wonder if this kind of mindset is ingrained into our society and imprinted unto us. I mean, income or not, it is their life to consider. And excluding the whole pandemic debacle, this kind of behavior is none too recent. I’ve seen sick people go to work, and work themselves to the bone, because the alternative was being potentially let go by their superiors. And they cannot complain, because it’s futile.

It’s honestly a scary thought that we as a people don’t think too hard about this, where our lives weigh less than the products we can create, whether material items or work. I can only hope, I don’t end up like that.