Moma Trip + Ron’s Birthday

Here is a montage video I made during a trip to the Moma with my pals Mary and Kara + her boyfriend Andy. Afterwards, I had gone to one of my closest friend’s Ron to celebrate his birthday! Also sneak peak of my pet dog Peeta <3


1 year anniversary

Its officially been a year since I have returned from China. I’m nothing but blessed the fact that I am still standing and not shacked up back in that god awful hospital. Here is the story:

 I began graduate life by moving to China and working as part time English tutor and freelance illustrator. It went so well till pollution got the better of me and one early morning I woke up with a bad case of virtigo and my entire left side numb. I was told by the local nurses that it was a small cold until one particular nurse pointed out that they never examined my heart rate. 

What started out as a simple check up turned out to be the beginning of an epic traumatizing experience. I was sent straight to the hospital. After various of blood work and tests throughout the hectic mall of a medical institution, I was told by a cranky lady barely giving eye contact that I had Myocarditis. It is a heart condition where a damage was discovered on the muscles of my heart, which explained the non-audible beating of my heart. Due to the level of pollution in Beijing, my body was unable to adapt and resulted in deteriorate itself. Because of the lady’s blase tone, I assumed it wasn’t such a serious case (mind you I never heard of this condition since its pretty rare back in the states) that I asked when I could leave the hospital. Still remembering her stone cold hard stare and the monotone “not a chance” come out of her mouth alerted me to the fact that I was completely fucked. 

I was escorted in a wheelchair straight to their version of an emergency room, which consisted of 30 chairs lined against the wall back to back with patients attached to their IV’s. It wasn’t until 3-5 nights of mortifying public body exams and ounces of blood taken out of me that I finally received a semi-private room with an actual bed to rest in. By then I had overseen enough patients come and go that I was incapable of any optimism for the near future. 

Weeks later doctors finally gave into letting me leave the hospital and return back home. But the memory of those nights still resonates with me. It seemed like only yesterday I was haggling with one of the nurses to rent me a cot to sleep in because they were out of rooms for patients and my back was beginning to form an uncomfortable hunch. At 7 am on the dot she would return to fold it back up and send me back on my way to the chair. I would wake up randomly to classes of hospital interns examine me and state out loud my condition to the doctors. Blood would be taken out of me without warning in the early mornings and not even given juice to help revive my energy. 

So you would think this kind of experience would discourage me and take me to that dark corner. But it wound up only strengthening me to get better and now that I am here and semi healthier than ever, I can fully see the impact of what a struggle can do to a person. It’s really a choice whether you want to be beaten down by stuff like this. Now here I am sitting in a desk typing this out not to tell a story but also to remind myself to be grateful that I have escaped the dark moments of that time and can move on. One year later and I can keep looking forward to that future I hope to achieve. 


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