Today

Today, I'm doing great. Thought I would share.

Raining in My Yukgaejang

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a deep infinity for soup. Jason laughs at me, because wherever we go I have to have soup.

I love everything about it. It is warm, nostalgic and lovely.  

A good bowl of soup always drowns out the frownies.  Soup is especially heroic on those rainy days, even the days it feels rainy inside my body.

This post is actually from November and I finally did an illustration for it. I often tap ideas, thoughts, journal type moments into my iphone notepad.  My iphone contains alot about me. I don't always have a journal book on me, but my iphone is always by my side, so it is convenient.

My iphone is loaded with these random thoughts and moments and I often forget to post them here. The drawing, I tried a Scratchboard method. It is a technique where drawings are created using sharp tools to scrape away at the board. I always liked this. Instead of drawing, you scratch away your image and create negative space.

I remember when I wrote these notes I was having a hard day and suggested to go get some Korean food. I chose Yukejang. Yukejang is a spicy beef soup and yummy to the max. Shredded beef, clear noodles, eggs, green onion all swimming in a pool of homemade broth. This was the post I wrote in my iphone on that day.

November 2010

We rolled into the restaurant and on this particular rainy day I noticed alot of people staring at me. Usually it doesn't bother me, but I seemed to notice it more so today. I wasn't having the best of spirits anyways. Sometimes people stare and sometimes people have better things to do. I like to pretend that they are staring because I am so cool.  Hey, how can I blame them? I would stare, too if I was checking out a really cool person.  

I ordered Yukejang. I like it at this particular restaurant.  The waitress brought me my anticipated soup, and Jason and I were involved in a conversation about how people perceive disabilities...how does it make them feel?...what kind of questions do they have...?

I am always searching to understand how others deal with situations and how they perceive it, because it better helps me to better explain myself.  

The soup was in front of me, and I started crying.  I just couldn't control it. Sometimes it takes over me and I have little control.  I sometimes cry my few minutes, give or take, and then crack a joke and move on, and moving on doesn't happen that swiftly. I tried to shield my face so the people sitting next to me couldn't see me cry.  

At times when I cry, I feel like my insides are pouring out like a bowl of molten soup. I'm not depressed, but sometimes it can bring such sadness.  More than anything I hate the feeling of weakness. I hate FEELING it. My body is a recorder. It lets me feel every moment. This is the thing I hate the most. It has little to do with a wheelchair, yet the knowing that it will not stop and it will only get harder.  I hate that.  

At this point I don't need a cure. I am not resting my laurels on this to make me happy. I would, however, be more than thankful and ecstatic to gain a year back from my body, and stabilize. That is my wish.  To stabilize. Leave me with my fingers, arms and hands. Leave me with my neck capabilities. 

After eating, we wheeled to the car through the pouring rain. And again, so many more stares. Jason threw me into the car while the rain poured so hard that I couldn't even see out of the windows. Or perhaps it was my eyes. They were pouring, too. Most people never see this side of the condition.  They only see the happy. They only see "healthy" and happy pictures and composed poses on Facebook.  It is not a false representation, but there are some really, really dark and difficult moments.

As I stared out the window the city was a blur while the raindrops on the windshield came into crystal clear focus. I played connect the dots with them as they dripped down. I imagined out these raindrop's temporary existence  as well as their travels. We sat in the car for awhile.  I cried and cried.  Afterwards, we drove home.  And then I was ok.

Show 'N Tell

Today, I told myself not to think about it. It is not usually my way to dwell on such things. Usually I press on in any difficult situation, so what is wrong with me lately?  My legs were going numb just from sitting.  I was at at my desk all day drawing and took multiple, on-purpose, breaks to move my legs about and do my little shuffle.  

For some reason I had to use the bathroom a lot today.  As I worked, I was happy and humming.  But, then it calls me. I have to go to the bathroom.  My unpredictable nemesis lately. I struggle to get to the bathroom in fear of not making it in time. I have to worry all the time. I have to feel every move with great difficulty and concentration.  Every step I silently chant to myself, "Don't fall. Don't fall..."   

So, how I can I just forget about it? Previous years it never required AS much thought as it has this year. The progression has been more drastic. 

It finally hit me. I'm not trying to think about it, it just thinks about me all the time.  I am doing my best to (mentally) press on, but in everything I do it calls me. "Pay attention to me".  It consumes so much of my day. Everything I do or even think about doing it's like I have to create a mental plan. A fire escape plan.

"All family members meet in, 'X' marks the spot, please".  

It is a record.  A broken one.  On, and on, and on.  I was thinking of drawing an old record player to illustrate my point, but then thought of the toy/product, 'Show 'N Tell'.  

Show 'N Tell is a Phono Viewer; a combination record player and film strip viewer made by GE in the '60's.  It looks like a little television, but had a record player on top.  The record player tells the story and the slide strip projects images on the TV.  The mechanism for slide advancement is a turntable mechanism, so requires manual rotation.  It was known for its difficulty in aligning, or syncing, the story (record) and the slides (illustration).  

Cool little item for its day, I am sure.  There are several ways I could use Show 'N Tell as an analogy for life and the like. As for HIBM trying to consume my every thought, simply by using its tactics of consuming my every move, I will try to drown it out.  I have too many things to do in life to let it stop me.  Perhaps this will be a power struggle between it and I. Hmmmm...

As I was drawing this illustration, my hands were so shaky.  My lethargic fingers had trouble gripping the pen as I was trying to keep a straight line. I had to intently think of my lines, so much that it felt like I was walking path. I was following the line in my head.  I walked it.  I finally just said, "Screw it", and decided if the line wants to be shaky, then that will be the style.  

With that, Happy New Year! I am excited to give 2011 a run for its money.

Here is a youtube video of the actual product. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgcJV_Shbkg

You Know What Makes Me Mad?

While I was cooking, and cutting my few ingredients, I suddenly shouted, "You know what makes me most mad? One day I won't be able to cook.  Everything I love doing is slowly being taken from me." Selfish, selfish, selfish (HIBM)", I murmured as I continued chopping.  

It is so much tiring than its year prior. Holding a knife, chopping. I don't usually get mad about HIBM, but it keeps rearing its ugly head lately, so I just can't help it. Sometimes I scream loud at it, and then move on my way.  I learn or adapt a new interest as response to a lost ability, and then HIBM swoops down and snatches that one, too.  

I returned to my cooking and secretly told myself, "Enjoy it. Enjoy it. Just enjoy it.

Fear not, I don't usually waive knives in the air while I randomly shout.  It's like I fast forwarded to a senile, crazy 85 year old woman ;).