December 30, 2008

For Christmas, I drew my parents and my youngest sister. I didn’t take pictures of my parents’ portraits yet. They both complained that I made them too old. I hope to have a picture soon of the one I made of my mother because I think it’s really good.

Patricia

This was going to be the year we wouldn’t buy any presents for Christmas. There are no children in my family and though it’s fun to watch an adult open a gift, it doesn’t compare with the pleasure of watching a child. Also, since buying presents for an adult is such a headache, we were only going to enjoy a nice family dinner. We failed miserably.

There’s an expression in Romanian that would translate to "coming empty handed", but when translated word for word, it’s something like "coming with your hand up your ass". I don’t remember when this expression left my lips with the wrong words in the wrong language, but it has created such amusement, that it’s now part of my family’s vocabulary. So, now that I’ve explained it, I’m free to use it in my next sentence. There was no way I was going to go with my hand up my ass to my boyfriend’s mother’s Christmas dinner.

I have been getting her DVDs of girl movies for the past few years because it’s the easiest present to get. This year was not going to be any different. I bought her a copy of "Mamma Mia!".

"I think I’m going to open it and watch it myself and buy her another copy" I told my boyfriend that night.

"We are not buying anything for ourselves in December!" he said.

I was puzzled. Could he have bought me a copy of the same movie?

"Did you buy me the movie?" I asked.

"We are not buying anything for ourselves in December!" he repeated.

Yep. He must have bought me a copy of the movie. I was certain. Well, I was able to wait a few days.

We had to wait an extra night for the Christmas dinner at his mother’s because heavy snowfall trapped us in our house. So our actual Christmas dinner, was just my boyfriend and I eating baked potatoes and drinking a bottle of wine we were supposed to take over to his mom’s. After the baked potatoes dinner, I did receive my own copy of the movie I had bought for his mother.

Next evening at the official family dinner, I presented my boyfriend’s mother with the movie.

"See B? It’s not a present. I didn’t even wrap it. It’s something I want to share with you and something you can keep." I told her.

"Oh, I have a consolation prize for you too." B said and gave me a box of chocolates.

My boyfriend’s sister, Ilo, was laughing very hard at this point.

"Open mine." she told her mother. As B was opening it, Ilo added through laughter "You can watch them back to back!" Yes. it was another copy of the same movie.

And for me, Ilo had another box of chocolates.

It was a good decision to not make any gifts this year because it took off a lot of pressure and saved us a lot of hassle and money. The "consolation" presents were small attentions compared to the trouble we went through in the past. As for the chocolates, four days later, I have none left. It’s true that my boyfriend did help with that.

December 7, 2008

I was waiting for the bus at the corner of Cambie and Hastings. Now, if you are familiar with Vancouver, you know that’s not a place where someone wants to wait for very long.

My "waiting for the bus" companion was Shorty. I don’t know his name, but I’ll call him that because of his Napoleonic stature. I had all my pockets zipped and my umbrella at the ready. I pretended to be preoccupied with my cell phone, while at the same time I was on high alert. It was getting quite dark. Of course three or four "needy" people did not care that I was busy with my phone and bothered me for change. I quietly replied "sorry" and tightened my grip on my umbrella. I started making plans in case someone did ask for my wallet, which, of course, I would give up in a moment. What if they wanted more? I imagined theatrical fights and wondered if the cars would stop to help me or if in the dark, it would look like a brawl between junkies. I know for a fact my friends drive through this area with their doors locked, looking straight ahead. I would have to jump in the middle of the street I realized. I thought about walking west to the next "safer" bus stop, but then I would risk missing the bus in-between stops. It usually comes every 10 minutes.

Shorty was talking to someone. I didn’t hear what they were saying, but afterwards he came to me and asked me if I knew where Cordova street was. I pointed him in the right direction, a block away. The only person who looked like he might have a cell phone and call for help in case of an attack was leaving me by myself.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Smoky, again, that’s not his real name, was puffing on a cigarette a few steps from me blowing smoke my way and starring me down. I didn’t want to step back or move though every cell in my body wanted to do so. I pretended to be even more preoccupied by my cell phone, actually memorizing my finger movements over the 911 keys.

Twenty minutes later, I was freezing. Smoky had thankfully left me. I kept on seeing busses two blocks away, but they all took a turn instead of coming towards me, so they were obviously not my bus.

Thirty minutes gone and it was getting quite dark. Two men passed me.

"There are cops there man" said one of them

"No man, it’s fine. They don’t care." said the other.

I watched them go. They were obviously up to no good.

Forty minutes passed. I dialed the Translink number.

"If you know the extension of the person you are trying to reach, press 1. If you know the bus number, press 2..."

I pressed 0. It seems to be a magic, no more bullshit, number. Someone answered.

"Oh hi, I’ve been waiting for the 135 at the corner of Cambie and Hastings for over half an hour. This bus usually comes every 10 minutes. Has the route changed?"

"Please wait while I check the system".

"Yes, there is a protest two blocks down from Cambie and the bus has been rerouted to Cordova Street".

Goddamn you Shorty for not telling me! And Translink, shouldn’t there be a sign at the bus stop that says "the bus is not coming here today"?

Helen and Mike

I worked for six hours on this painting. Because of the smiles, some would fit this into the Kitsch category. That would hurt. I think the word is applied too liberally and by too many people who have no understanding of painting. Europeans, I was one of them once, love this word and pretty much use it to describe any North American art. I am a Canadian now, and I have a real disdain for European snobbery.

The Addict (Now)

(Before)

This is one of my favourite drawings. I originally declared it finished in 2005, but I went back to it in the past few weeks and finished it for real. It tells the story of my four year addiction to Ever Quest. In 2005 I described it like this: "It's the story of a computer addict, who is me. I spend way too much time on my computer playing games, though, my Cupid doesn't cry, thank you very much! But the sun does reach from closed curtains (to avoid reflections) to call me outside and I say ‘just one more turn’. My friend Fang is watching from the corner, plants grow around me unnoticed, the computer stole my brain. Spiders like dark, dusty, forgotten places. God I'm so corny, but that's really what I was thinking when doing this. There, now you all know, it's nothing too intelligent, damn machine!" The same description stands, though Cupid did cry.