Back Pain & Why Tattoos :

Hi Hi Y’all,

I know more and more I talk about chronic illness. It’s not meant to just be a purge, a kvetch or a notice for recognition. Lately, my flare up have just been getting worse and longer. All the advice doctors gave and the awkward hard to explain moments just seem worse. More then ever, I am just tired. So very tired…

A friend of mine is coming up to visit me in April and I am so excited to have someone see where I go to University and be an understanding friend. I had been debating when ( and more importantly) where to get a back tattoo I have always wanted.

When I was a kid I was obsessed with Yakuza movies, samurai movies and ronin movies. I loved the traditional colorful tattoos on them and the values that seemed to come with them. As I got older, learned more about what it meant and how it was perceived I didn’t want such a large piece anymore. For awhile, I thought about abandoning the idea completely.

Then I got my diagnosis and I started to reconsider. What eventually solidified the desire to get the tattoo was this increasing problems. My drugs are increasing and surgeries that seemed far off seem sooner and sooner. More and more I feel like I am missing out and that I’ll miss out on things even more in the future. Weighed down by everything around me and having it all be unseen is taking a bigger toll on me. I can do less then I used to at the moment and no one really sees it or understands it. More and more I have to come to terms with being seen by the average person as a ‘disappointment’.

It’s these things that make me stop caring about some of the things I used to. If I feel like life is short and changing so much for me I have to at least do the things I enjoy? A giant back tattoo or some crazy visual representation of all my problems probably won’t do much for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stick to aesthetic and feel as if I did something to show it.

My back has two curves and a tiny hump on my neck. At the top of my spine there are signs of bones thinning and possibly going to fade away. As you got to the bottom of my spine fusing has started, my hips are out of place and my legs are now two different lengths. None of this can be seen or understood unless I give up and say I want to walk around like Quasimodo so people notice me. That is always going to be the reality of my back. Anything from now on won’t be seen.

I like small minuscule and thin lined tattoos. Normally, I don’t want color and just want simple black. I’ve known since I was small I would want tattoos that represented ideas that meant a lot to me in life. Knowing this it isn’t hard for me to know what sort of tattoo I’d get on my back.

At the top of my neck, I would want in thin black lines Vegvisir. Vegvisir is one of the most popular Nordic charms. It wishes for the person to never lose their way in storm and bad weather even if the path is unknown. I don’t think there is anything more symbolic of everything going on then that. However, there is one more reason. My great grandma’s mother was a Swedish Orphan. She had come to the U.K. and met a Spanish Jew. They married and moved to the U.S. Apparently, unlike her husband and the efforts she put into now being Jewish and raising Jewish kids she never gave up her belief system. She was very very very Christian. I’m talking crosses and bloody Jesus pictures everywhere sort of Christian. Yet, there was one thing that my great grandma remembered seeing even when she didn’t know the name of it until I told her: Vegvisir. In a legacy where only food and some old myths managed to be passed down, my great grandma could vaguely in her dying times remember seeing Vegvisir as a child. Now how could I argue with that? Jewish or not, my great grandma read me Nordic myths as I was growing up, joked how if it was true Odin was 100% cooler than Zeus, and how we were meant to be tough because it was just in our blood. I’m traveling rough waters right now and maybe that means it isn’t just about being Jewish, but remembering all beliefs that helped create me.

Underneath Vegvisir is the real highlight though. Running in small thin lines will be the I Ching and its 64 changes. For a person of my aesthetic and weirdness (and love for Asian culture) what is better then 64 line patterns each symbolizing a different part of early understanding and divination? Nothing. Seriously, nothing at all. My life is certainly one of change and phases, of fortunes and dis-fortunes, and of joy and sadness. These line patterns will follow the crooked path my spine takes all the way to my tailbone. Maybe it will seem funny to some, but to me it’s a little part of the truth. And when these inevitable surgeries come, the scars appear on my back and the fight through new types of pain begins, I have marks of it all. Little lines that exist as part of scars and as part of the journey.

Going through all of this has taught me that living behind a mask is no longer something I’ll really be good at again. My body demands of me the truth. It demands that I grow past the angry cynical jaded girl I was when I was young and try to find the joy of life. It tells me that it will not tolerate lies and will only tolerate truth.

Don’t I have to do it then?

I.L. Knight

P.S. Odin really is way better. Norse > Greek everyday <3

Vegvisir

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I Ching

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Pagan Folk Music – Vegvisir

Web Novel Updates :

Before I sit down in assignment hell and overload I just wanted to quickly update two of the chapters for a web novel I have been shopping around….As soon as I get out from under my assignment and life overload I will update more.

MOOOORRREEEE,

I.L. Knight

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All The Tired Horses – Bob Dylan

 

Hometowns

 I’m sitting here in the middle of a Nordstrom’s shoe section looking at an angry mom waiting for her sister to show up and a herd of thirteen year old’s “OMG. These are shoes are only 198$. I can totally afford these and still buy concert tickets with my allowance.” I remembered why I always felt alone-different. The motivation I haven’t had for awhile was stagnant in the mall’s air. This is what inspired me years ago. The desire to not be anything like the hometown bubble I grew up in. I never wanted to be someone just pretty on the outside. Similarly,  I never wanted to be someone just pretty on the inside. Growing up in nouveau-riche South Florida taught me the importance of both a pretty well liked packaging and the need for an equally pretty content on the inside. My motivation was to be a complete package and to be one in a town that wouldn’t turn future me or my future kids into the very same people I grew up with. 
Thinking back to a conversation I had with a friend the other night, I can only agree with him more. Hometowns aren’t always the best to return too. Especially, hometowns like Boca Raton.  When we came home three things happened: (i) nostalgia, (ii) reminiscing and (iii) thoughts of the future. If I have ever listened any words of wisdom from therapists, online blog, buddhist monks, friends or family it’s that happiness comes from living in the moments. If you dwell in the past or the future you can never be happy. Returning home for me is a dangerous cancer. It is a set back to growth.
There was the sudden logic to my anxiety and chaotic dislike for being present  anywhere in this town. I came to a war barely being able to hold my sword. Just as only Arthur could pull the sword from the stone, not everybody can come back to their hometown and be happy. If I spent my whole life admiring birds for being free, how in the hell can I then find happiness by returning to the same nest I was born to? It is impossible. If I ever fully want to grow up and learn to move on, to get past trials and tribulations, or even just become an adult. I need to accept the fact that all I’ve ever wanted to do was leave the nest. That my decision to admire freedom was never something wrong in the first place.
Motivation is something that will never come easy for me. Biology works against me. However, maybe just remembering what I came from will be a guide to keeping little pieces of it along my road. After all, I am looking at everything I never wanted to become and realizing that yes I may not be the shiny convertible everyone wants to buy, but I am allowing myself to be the beat up Toyota with 60,000+ miles that can’t be fixed up. The person I was and aim to be has aspirations.


Tonight will be a night to try and not think. Since I was kicked out of my house I will do what I always like to do. I will look up at the night sky, listen to the crickets, and imagine a fantastical adventure in the starry landscape I longed to see again.


Tired, Sad and Strangely Motivated,
I.L. Knight

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Last Dance- One Ok Rock