“If I imagine that I’m sitting here working next to you, even awful tasks like these turn into something beautiful. Work becomes bearable. I’m playing a role of a woman who is loved. A woman who has everything she needs. Right now, I love someone and that someone is supporting me. So I want to imagine I’m at peace. That I’m already enjoying the good times that I’ll be spending with you. That’s how I want to think of it, rather than going through exhausting, difficult times without you. Isn’t it more admirable that I’m finding strength thinking of you?” — Mi-jeong, “My Liberation Notes”
I just finished “Designated Survivor: 60 days.” Very engrossing, with long stretches of WTF?, as is typical of k-dramas. Much better than the original American TV show. But isn’t that always the case?
Next is the highly touted “My Liberation Notes” (can you tell I’m chasing actor Son Suk-ku?) — Korea’s answer to “Gregory’s Girl.” I wasn’t sure at first. The first scene, at a Korean bbq, already lost me. Is Mi-jeong’s sister talking about the guy at the next table, or is her date-fail story hitting too close to home?
But when I met their small town country friends, I started to laugh, then felt awkward, as if I’d just burst out laughing in church, at a televised funeral, in front of thousands of people.
In another scene, a co-worker of Mi-jeong’s suddenly exclaimed, “I wish they’d leave us introverts alone!” after one too many attempts by management to get them to be more sociable and join a work-sponsored club. That’s when I was hooked.
I’m not quite an introvert, but the world treats me that way, so whatever. I can’t be picky about my imaginary friends.
Mi-jeong also reminded me of a high school friend that’s been on my mind lately. Uncertain but game, head-down and background pleasant, but poised to do something monumental to break up the monotony of her boring life.
Any day now…
If that’s ordinary, we’re all fucked.
“I want to live alone and use the air conditioner all I want. Somewhere I can’t hear anyone else’s voice.”
It isn’t lost on me…how many of my peers have gone insane, or simply…silent. We were so loud and brash long ago, when we were younger, when we had a stake in the game.
What makes me different? Why haven’t I turned into Mr. Gu, drinking myself into a stupor in the dark?
My shelf life turned out to be a lot shorter than I thought. If I knew then what I know now, who knows what I’d have done with my life.
I’d have started jogging a lot earlier than my early 20s, that’s for sure.
I remember when my knees first gave out, I told myself, “At least I can still walk.” When even walking became hard, I said, “I can walk half the distance; 30 minutes is better than nothing.” Now, I can walk some, but if I stand for any length of time, then try to move, my left leg gives out with a tremendous amount of pain.
Sometimes I cough and a little shit comes out, and I don’t even realize it until the end of the day when I’m changing my clothes.
The last time I saw my high school friend, the one Mi-jeong reminds me of, she treated me to lunch at Bravo Italian restaurant (get the linguine with red clam sauce) in Aiea, after getting diagnosed.
Most of her was gone from the meds. But every now and then, as I ranted about something insignificant just to fill up the awkward silences, I thought I saw a flash of understanding…even desperation…behind the dull eyes and the thousand-mile stare.
She looked as lost as I felt. This was a woman who had her entire life planned out, who was our lifeline in school and just out of college, who was supposed to out-last us all.
That could be me in one-five years, who knows.
Until then, the pain is bearable.