arty chee

A silly story

2011-09-28T14:53:00.000-07:00

This post is a tribute to my friend who patiently

indulged me for over half an hour as we walked around

in the freezing cold, trying to search for a panhandler.

"Qu'ils mangent de la brioche!"

2011-03-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

The earlier part of January was a tough month for me until I came to the conclusion that living each day with heartbreak is like eating layered cake.

I've tested out this analogy by sharing the idea with quite a few people. Sometimes I get a raised eyebrow, and sometimes my spiel elicits a snort. Once or twice, I've seen a slow smile creep onto my listener's face...a smile of recognition (atleast that's what I'd like to interpret it as). And when I see that happen...oh that moment is just sublime.

Here is the recipe:

Heartbreak - it hits the worst in the morning. You wake up with this heaviness in your chest. In the cake, this is the bottom layer. It is dense, bitter and rum soaked, and weighted down by the everyday normality that you have to maintain.

Then you open the door and you see that daylight is invigorating and the air that you deeply inhale is fresh...this positive impact on you is tremendous! But shortlived. Oh right, you remember again...you're heartbroken. This moment is a very stingy layer of sweet strawberry jam spread thinly over the bottom layer.

Then there is unremarkable sponge cake filling...the parts of the day where you are gladly distracted and kept busy.

But then at some point of the day, you will lift your head up and see the world in such a different way. For me sometimes, I see slow motion beauty out the window - birds taking flight, or sunlight rimmed clouds luxuriating across the sky...things I wouldn't have been able to appreciate if I hadn't seen the more painful end of the experience spectrum. This is rich butter-cream icing that fill your taste buds with bliss (made of real butter, no shortening bullshit).

I wouldn't want to eat dense, bitter and rum soaked cake all day, and it's inadvisable to leave the bottom layer behind to rot on your dish . At the same time, one wouldn't really want to consume a glob of butter-cream all by itself either. Cake is best eaten by spearing a fork through all the layers and taking in the complexity of all the varying tastes and textures. And when you're done eating this cake, you can order a chocolate lava cake, or maybe a mango pudding (feel free to come up with your own recipe/analogies for these delectable dishes).

Afterall, isn't this what life is all about? Calorie intake?

His Monologue

2011-01-26T20:40:00.000-08:00

Last week, I sat beside a man on the bus who was so drunk he confused his inner monologue with the conversation he thought he was having with me.

As I sat there, the man leaned his head in and asked, "Are you Japanese?"

I don't look Japanese, and he sure as hell didn't either. I answered, "No. Are you?"

"Oh God, that's funny...Oh God, she answered me." He let out a roar of a laugh. "But my daughter is part Japanese."

"Oh, how old is your daughter?", I asked.

"She's sixteen." Then he turned towards the sky and said "Oh God, I can't believe I'm doing this...she could be my daughter's age."

Me: "Uh...doing what?"

Him: "Auuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhh God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

Me: "You can't believe you're having a conversation?"

Him: "Yeah, but I'm like...forty something...how old are you?"

Me: "Um, I don't really feel comfortable telling..."

Him: "Oh God, that's too young. Auuugh, ok, this is my stop, I shouldn't be doing this. Have a good night."

Her Monologue

2011-01-04T08:37:00.000-08:00

Waiting for my bus the other day, I looked over to the woman pacing back and forth beside me. Grunting impatiently, she walks to the curb and peers out into the oncoming traffic. Turning back to me, she catches my eye and says "Which bus you waiting for?"

"Er...the 245"

With a smirk on her face, "Ha, I just saw that one, just passed by before you got here. Yup, you missed it."

"Haha, yeah, I know, I saw it on the way here."

"Yup, you missed it...you sure missed it.", she reiterated.

(Again, I emit a dorky, assenting laugh out of politeness)

"Well, I sure hope my bus comes next, I've been waiting here for a long time. Had to work the day after boxing day, can you believe it? Everyone is off today, but not me...today is the busiest day in fact. Yup, everyone gets the day off and I'm here working. Look at us, out here in the cold, waiting for our buses. I had to work today, can you believe it?"

"Well, maybe you get paid more to work today, no?"

She raises her eyebrow for a moment, "Yeah, I get paid more today. Yeah, some people out there don't get paid today, but I do, time and a half in fact."

"Well, then that's something to be happy about..." I trail off in a weak, small voice.

I'm not sure why, but I asked, "How was your Christmas?"

"Well, it's been a good Christmas, you know why? All my family is dead. Just had to cook for my husband. He just has a sister in Montreal. All we had to do was talk to them over the phone after dinner. She's been living there for over a year now."

I say nothing, and she continues.

"Yeah, it's nice to talk to her, haven't heard from her in a long time. My nephew though...geez, that boy. He couldn't even get on the phone to say Merry Christmas to his own uncle."

"Oh, maybe he wasn't available to?", I offered.

"Oh, he sure was, he was sitting right at the dinner table while his mother was on the phone and he would not even get up to say Merry Christmas to his uncle."

"Well, maybe he's shy?"

"Nope, nope. It's just rude. It's unacceptable. That boy should have gotten off his behind to talk to his uncle. That boy hasn't spoken to his uncle in years. He's 24 and he's in university, he should know better. Now tell me, isn't he rude? Isn't he just terrible?"

"Well, 24 is young, maybe he didn't know that it mattered so much to you two."

"Nope, unacceptable, he should know better. To think that he was sitting at that dinner table and couldn't even get up to say Merry Christmas to his uncle...that is just terrible. Can you believe it? Don't you think he's terrible?"

"Ok.........yes."

A very satisfied look appears on her face. Then her bus arrives and she bids me a happy new year. I say, "yes you too" and then I am left standing there, feeling just a little bit exploited.

Old Crow: a short description

2010-11-03T11:11:00.000-07:00

Last week, I returned from a two week trip to Old Crow, a very small place in northern Yukon.

It's the kind of place that hollows you out, like your body leaves, but your mind lags behind. Your thoughts want to be in a place where it is so quiet that you can hear the river freezing over. It sounds like: water rushing and pushing against the fragile surface,

and the ice threatening to crack.

unfinished story

2010-08-22T18:38:00.000-07:00

Here is a little comic detailing 2 minutes on a bus trip down

Hastings Street. And then, the man got off the bus.

connoisseur of life series #1

2010-08-11T13:15:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry to everyone for not keeping up with my blog. I got a little bit sick of myself and sick of drawing my stupid giant head on that inaccurately tiny body...I might return to that someday, but for now, I hope this new thread that I'm unspooling still captures everyone's interest (all 3 of you).

Here's a story to introduce the actual introduction:

Two weeks ago, I was touring the Okanagan wineries with a few friends. My limit was three wineries in one day (I can only nod my head and say "ah, interesting" while having no clue as to what is actually interesting about the wines, for so long).

At the end of a long, tiring day, we stopped into Mission Hill for the heritage tour. The guide was an enthusiastic and thorough man, who told us that he had a colleague who studied picking out flavours and aromas from wines by practicing everyday - smelling a new scent throughout the day in order to familiarize and identify it in wines.

My eyes almost popped out of my head, I was so excited at the idea that I wasn't a hopeless case...that everything could be honed and practiced. And I don't have to become a poverty stricken lush to get there.

Actual introduction:

Quite often I find myself a passerby to a very intense moment in somebody's life, in a public space. Sometimes these little scenarios stay with me for a very long time...often for months, sometimes for years. I never know what to do with them, except to wonder about it. So I want to share these little excerpts (hopefully not in a depressing World Vision advertisement way) to offer little excerpts of life, or little mysteries for us to try to figure out together.

The other day, I went to the library, and just outside the door, this woman was sitting on a low bench, crying loudly and telling a stranger who was unlocking his bike nearby:

"I was supposed to meet my ex here...but he didn't show up!"

I went inside, browsed a bit and then grabbed two trashy magazines. When I came out, I found her still gasping for breath between these chasmal heaving sobs.

the past cookie

2010-06-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

I was in Masset a few weeks ago for an workshop at an elementary school. Having the weekend free to explore, I spent most of my Sunday walking down beaches, skirting the waves, and picking up extraordinary looking pebbles. For hours I watched the waves recede and return to me - what bliss.

It was difficult to be torn away from such a scenery, but by ten o'clock in the evening, my tummy was rumbling as loud as the waves were, so my colleague and I returned to Masset to look for food. All supermarkets were closed and we only had two Chinese restaurants that were open to us so we decided on the Golden Pam where I ordered a bowl of chicken soup noodles.

Although I did enjoy my meal, what I really look forward to at restaurants like these is the fortune cookie at the end of the meal. It's a random piece of literature (sometimes wisdom) and the shell that contains it is edible. Delightful.

I crack mine open with greedy anticipation, and pop the cookie in my mouth - it was crisp and delicious! However, I found the fortune part a little stale.

It read:

"You will find much enjoyment by the seashore"

ATM Troubles: Part Three

2010-03-31T23:23:00.000-07:00

I know I should be over this, it's been seven months since this incident! Many days I've been fuming, this final blog entry on the topic will be the catharsis I've been needing:

Returning to my studio, I decided that this was going to be the one time I needed to be pro-active.

Complaint letter first draft:

VANCITY! DAMN YOU! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME?!!!

AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elisa

I thought about what results this might yield and decided that a bit of editing might be needed. So I tweaked it a bit and came up with - Complaint letter second draft:

To Whom It May Concern:

At approximately 1:30pm today, I used an ATM machine at the ***** Community Branch. During the transaction, I requested sixty dollars before the ATM machine froze. No cash or card came out. The woman behind the desk told me to wait in line to speak with a teller who, “if they weren’t too busy”, might retrieve my card for me. My card was found inside the machine, but while I was in the line up, someone had taken the cash. I now have $60 missing from my account because of a faulty ATM machine, and because I was told to leave the it unguarded in order to to get help.

This is a big disappointment; I feel that the security of my money was not a priority for your bank. I would like reassurance that your bank will not allow for me to be victimized and disempowered like this again. I want confirmation that I will have my money returned to me. Please look into this matter.

Sincerely,

Elisa

ATM troubles - part two

2010-01-08T11:28:00.000-08:00

I lined up to talk to the teller and waited for about twenty minutes.

At the front of the line, "My card is stuck in the ATM outside!" I said to the teller, piteously.

Her response: "Fill out this form and I'll take a look".

"Thank you."

A few minutes later, she returned, "Well it looks like someone took your money while you were in the line up to talk to me. But we have your card."

I looked at her, and she simply stared back. I raised my eyebrows expectantly- I got in return, silence and a blank look.

"Will I ever get my money back?" I asked weakly.

"Maybe, we'll do an investigation and give you a call."

"Ok".

But twenty minutes after leaving the bank I began to realize that it wasn't OK...

ATM troubles - part one

2009-12-17T15:09:00.000-08:00

One sunny Wednesday afternoon, I had to deposit some cheques and take out some cash. I took a pleasant walk to the bank and then evaluated the two lineups in front of me - inside the bank, about 20 people waited to be helped by the tellers, but at the ATMs there were only four in queue. After a short wait, I trustingly put my bank card into the machine. It took my two cheques, but when I asked it to give me 60 dollars, a flickering screen told me that the card was stuck!

So I waited.

I peered into the bank. Nobody was at liberty to help me.

I waited some more.

The ATM flickered on blankly.

I went into the bank, hesitant about leaving the ATM for too long. I caught the attention of the woman sitting behind a desk by the doorway. After I'd told her about the card ordeal, she suggested I get into the line up for a teller. "Well," she added as an afterthought, "they'll help you get your card back only if they aren't too busy. They look really busy, but you can line up and ask anyways."

What else could I do? I glanced hopefully one more time at the ATM machine, but it only continued to flicker at me apathetically.

Canadian Tired

2009-10-12T20:41:00.001-07:00

Here is an epic three page tale of an epic fail for Jody and I.

Please do enjoy a laugh at our expense:

(please click on each page to view comic)

another childhood memory

2009-09-29T23:01:00.000-07:00

Please click on the image to see it full sized...irate comments instructing me on how to display my comics properly are also welcome.

I just started hip hop dance classes

2009-09-21T21:27:00.001-07:00

My Life on a Good Day

2009-09-14T22:25:00.001-07:00

On the way home today, something very absurd happened.
I was offered a ride on a disability scooter.

Oh right, and it was free...what WAS I thinking when I refused?

Grouse Mountain tips for weaksauce hikers

2009-08-31T12:11:00.001-07:00

This weekend I tried to hike up Grouse Mountain for the first time in my life.

Success!

However things could have gone smoother.
Here are a few tips I can pass on to anyone out there
who might need a bit of guidance too.

Tip #1:
While other hikers provide a pace you can follow
and a bit of competitive motivation, it's not advisable
to be smug about passing others on the path.

Because there's only one pathway up...

and remember, you're weaksauce.

Tip #2
Your bug repellent probably doesn't work.

But use it to your advantage, it motivates you to keep moving.

Tip #3:
Try not to listen to the sounds that other hikers make.

There is nothing more demoralizing than laboured breathing,
and feet smacking hatefully against the ground.

Tip #4:
Do push yourself beyond what you think you can do.

It sure is unrewarding when you wake up the next day with no sore muscles.

another celebratory dance

2009-08-27T11:17:00.000-07:00

My friend Jody and I moved into a studio workspace recently.

I'm sure that we make everything look easy, but I just wanted to dispel that myth.

Here's how it really went down:

(please click on the image if you would like to see it full sized)

It's My Party...

2009-08-06T22:03:00.000-07:00

It was my birthday yesterday; birthdays make me stressed out.

I used to begin looking forward to my birthday once August appeared on the calendar. It would give me secret pleasure to think that it would be my birthday in five days! Then four!...three!...two!... And then with all the anticipation, and expectations of birthday happiness built up - I would crash on the actual day. It was my party, and I truly did exercise the right to cry.

For many years, I would put on an uncomfortable party dress and strut about, expecting people to celebrate and be grateful for my existence. I believed that a birthday was a special day, and that things would be as I wanted it to be. And it never was.

This year, I decided to let go of all my expectations and be happy with however the day turned out to be.

Event's of the day:

12:01 am - A bird defecates on my right thigh.

8:00 am - I discover bad news sitting in email inbox.

11:46 am - Awful, angry words are exchanged between me and beloved family members

12:45 pm - Mini crisis moment - I ask myself:

What have I done with my life?
What should I have accomplished by now?
Am I ridiculous?"

1:30 pm - I treat myself to a tasty latte

1:35 pm - Sun shines liquid gold through the leaves of a willow tree, being freaking gorgeous.

8:30 pm - I eat a giant slice of a tiramisu birthday cake.

11:59 pm - I realize that the accomplishment of being able to accept exceptionally bad events as part of a lovely birthday is something to be very proud of.

San Francisco and Me 7 - little moments

2009-07-30T22:19:00.000-07:00

On the apex of San Francisco's steep hills, we saw some gorgeous views of the city and the water. But sometimes, at the bottom of a hill, a mysterious tower or rooftop would peek out at us, and I loved wondering what the rest of the building looked like as we made our way upwards.

San Francisco and Me 6 - pride day

2009-07-22T23:09:00.000-07:00

I secretly drew the backs of the heads of two people wearing orange afro-wigs

on the BART en route to the pride parade. A very shy boy sitting across from me

was smiling to himself and playing with the rainbow coloured lei around his neck.

Everyone was sporting cheerful rainbows, and the train was full of laughter.

I loved all the colours and the happy atmosphere!

I sure wish everyday was like pride day.

San Francisco and Me 5 - the landscape

2009-07-19T20:19:00.000-07:00

To me, Californian landscape is made up of scorched yellow hillsides and small, olive green bushes crawling all over them. I felt very thirsty as I took in this view.

san Francisco and Me 4 - Muir Woods

2009-07-14T23:21:00.001-07:00

I was most excited about going to Muir Woods, where I would see ancient redwood trees, some over a thousand years old. They towered over us and were wider than the arms could encircle. In an area called the Cathedral Grove, I understood the sacredness of the space - with all the majestic nature surrounding me, and in my ear, the ethereal sound of the wind tickling the leaves.

Interestingly enough, I decided to draw all the littlest things I could find.

san Francisco and Me 3 - birds

2009-07-09T22:01:00.000-07:00

These birds are San Franciscans! I watched them on the pier, and translated their chirping for your reading pleasure.

There's a story behind this scenario, I'm sure, but I didn't get to stick around long enough to find out whether the bird on the left ever got his girlfriend to tell him what was wrong.

san Francisco and Me 2 - embarcadero

2009-07-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

As I was drawing this on the pier, a gust of wind rushed by and grabbed the hat off of a fisherman who was standing beside me. I said "oh no", as he looked woefully down at it floating in the water. I considered-what could I say to make him feel better about his loss?

Before I finished this thought, he pulled up the fishing line that was dangling from his hand and tossed the hook out into the water, to try to snag the floating hat. This wasn't going to be a loss for him, hell no. After a few tries, he grabbed a longer fishing pole and cast it in the water. My mouth was agape, I couldn't hide the fact that I was rudely watching him. Finally after three tries, he got it! He pulled up and as his hands took hold of it, I clapped in delight and said "yay!". He was startled by this and almost dropped the hat, but then he smiled shyly and acknowledged the fact that yes indeed, he had just accomplished a pretty amazing thing.

San Francisco and Me 1

2009-07-03T04:39:00.000-07:00

I've been in San Francisco visiting a friend for the last two weeks,

here are mini stories that came out of my wonderful trip:

I stayed in a very cute house in Millbrae, and as I relaxed on a patio chair

the first morning, I caught sight of a bee busily feeding from

the cone shaped flowers, sticking it's head into each flower with it's 'beehind'

wiggling all about. Then it would back away, hover there uncertainly

and then dive into another flower. Adorable.

This made me think about what I expect to see when I'm sight-seeing in a new city,

and how I've stressed myself out in the past, trying to take in all the most unique experiences

that a place has to offer. Meanwhile, interesting things are happening everywhere.

butohful

2009-06-07T22:17:00.000-07:00

This weekend I found myself at a memorial service/party and in the presence of two dancers from the Kokoro Dance group:

They performed - the two figures in a painstakingly slow manner, made their way towards each other.

I could see their limbs quivering, like there is an inner-struggle to maintain the pose and control of the body, repressing tension within.

Sometimes, they would pause in a contorted stance and it conveyed to me in those few moments, so much grief and yearning...and a bit of random beauty.

The two meet in the middle and move in harmony, but then slowly, heart-wrenchingly, they peel themselves from each other, stepping away backwards.

I found that at the end of the dance I involuntarily closed my eyes, I didn't want to let any new images into my head after that. I felt a bit silly, but when I opened my eyes I found a woman across from me just opening her eyes too.

I think Egon Schiele would love this kind of dancing.

things I live for #1

2009-06-01T00:14:00.000-07:00

Chopin.

Oh, his beautiful music...this is what I feel like when I play it.

Too bad Chopin would probably be writhing in his grave
if he heard me butchering his work
with my clumsy fingers.

absence makes the heart grow fonder

2009-05-22T10:53:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a lot of printing lately, and I desperately needed the help of someone who didn't only work in the realm of pixels. I went to a little print store near my house with a mess of files - "can you help me?!" I cried out as I popped through the door. The woman behind the desk looked at me dispassionately.

Coolly, she replied "sure".

She was indeed very helpful and spent more time than she needed to help me solve my printing problems. What a nice woman, I thought, maybe if I made some conversation she would warm up to me. I tried really hard to come up with interesting questions to ask her, but each time, she found a way to answer back with a single word. Oh well, I thought, not everybody has to like me...I give up.

One day, I popped in with a quick job and discovered a different being behind the desk, the woman was giggling and coyly hitting the shoulder of this man who was sitting beside her.

Oh. Interesting.

I told her that I would be back the next day, she looked grateful about it, so I quickly left.

When I did go back the next day, she was a much warmer person to me. Who would have thought that I would be appreciated simply for my absence!

Limbodia

2009-05-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

I spent most of the last two weeks here and there, cat-sitting, puzzle assembling, working on an animation project. But actually, I wasn't really...there.

My mind was far off into the past, all thoughts zipped around everywhere but where my slumpy body was. This made me spill a lot of things, and unable to taste anything I ate.
I wonder sometimes how much time my head has spent in limbo-land over the course of my life. If I subtracted all that time from the total years I've been on earth, would that be my mental age?

I might only be 10.

public apology to my brother

2009-05-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

I am very sorry. And this is why:
(you can see the images in all its full sized glory if you click on them)

She Knows Me

2009-04-23T23:25:00.000-07:00

I like to treat myself to little things, three times a year. It was about time for one, so I decided on a quiet pair of earrings - glass with flowers encased inside it. Very pretty.

As I'm drooling over them, the sales lady comes up to me, she wants to take other things out of the display cases for me. "No, try this" she says, "that is not for you, this is. Trust me, I know. I know you - that is you."

She did have a point. The pair of earrings she suggested were beautiful, and twinkled nicely in front of my dark hair. They also matched a necklace that was very me. I must buy the necklace too, it is so me.

"What are you?" she asks, "Japanese? Korean?"

"Chinese"

"You don't look Chinese." She's seen a lot of different girls in her store, trust her, I don't look Chinese.

This is the first time I've ever heard this before.

She is persuasive, she has expertise, she knows what looks good on people - she is now ringing in my necklace, the earrings, and a little carved stone box I have no use for.

"Really, you must be a mix of something else."

"Well, my parents are from Brunei...but I'm sure that all of my grandparents came from China."

"Brunei?!" her face exploded into a smug ah-ha smile. "You see? Brunei is a Muslim country. Trust me, you're not pure Chinese, I know."

She was the most incredible saleswoman! I almost bought that too.

Hazelton Motel Experience - Part II

2009-04-17T00:44:00.000-07:00

I was outside and shivering...where will I go? I was being nudged further away from the room by this invisible force. My friend is staying two doors down from me, so I knocked insistently on her door. Immediately she opens the door, but I could tell I had woken her up. I sputtered out, "I got pushed off my bed! And she kept pushing me out the door!" (How did I know it was a female?)

My friend, always one to help me troubleshoot with technical problems, pragmatically suggests, "Well lets see, have you tried...going back to your room?"

"Gee whiz", I say as I try to dig my toe into the carpet, "OK."

I'm dreading it, but I make my way back, and curl up tightly into a ball under the covers of my bed. And then...I wake up tightly rolled in the same position.

Did this really happen?!!

Hazelton Motel Experience - Part I

2009-04-16T22:01:00.000-07:00

Motels and hotels always make me nervous. This time in Hazelton...the walls were thin, and I would hear running water so loud and clear, I could swear it was flowing from the tap in my bathroom. But when I got up to check, the taps were always off.

One night, I finally fell asleep in a comfortable fetal position but woke up because something was nudging me from behind. It became more insistent, and even began pushing me out of bed. I looked behind me and saw nobody there...but this nobody began to push me out the door!

Extreme Makeover: Attitude Edition

2009-04-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

My personal goal, when I was in Hazelton was to go without TV for eight days. It's easy to forgo watching it when I'm at home, I can watch clips from youtube instead...but not so, when one is staying in a small motel room that has nothing in it but a bed, an alarm clock and a television set.

So I changed my rule...television only in the mornings.

Which is not the best idea because most morning shows are the ones that could really rot the mind.

One morning, I decided to watch Extreme Makeover...Home Edition. In the show, a construction crew goes to South Carolina, to help four kids and their grandmother, living in a dilapidated trailer. The TV crew interviews each child, and sends the family off to Disneyland while they demolish the trailer and put themselves to work, building what looked like a mansion in that small lot.

When the kids come back, each one now has a themed bedroom. The ten year old boy gets a Spiderman room, with rope netting on the wall that he could climb up, and a closet full of Spiderman toys. The host of the show reveals a surprise: the family gets a free trip up to New York to attend the premiere screening of the Spiderman movie! The Grandmother and the kids scream, they cry, they are overcome with gratitude.

pugh

I always feel so manipulated by shows like these. Also, I'm skeptical about whether or not the Grandma could afford to pay the electricity bill for all the chandeliers and the big screen televisions they put up.

In the next scene, they visit the eight year old's room. Earlier in the show, when the designer asks him what he likes, he says "reading". Boy, he must regret saying that after seeing the cool Spiderman room, I think to myself. The host leads him to his 'library room': a junior sized bed and walls filled up to the ceiling with books. His eyes light up, he runs over to caress a heavy 500 pager, and yells "cool! books!!!". I don't know why, but this unravels me - tears stream down my face and I can't control it. Books are my weakness. And kids who genuinely appreciate them are even more precious.

so...what do you think of the world?

2009-03-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

Coming back from my trip to Hazelton, I had quite the experience in a cab ride home from the airport.

There was rain, darkness, and an airless silence as the driver navigated his way through the very small obscure streets - I had no idea where we were. I always like to start conversations with the drivers by emitting a stupid question that I'm sure every cab driver has heard at least fifty times throughout the day. Today I chose the inane: "So...is this a taxi service that only goes back and forth from the airport?"

cab driver: "yes, yes...just the airport."

Long period of silence ensues. Sometimes, not very often, cab drivers don't feel like chatting, so I usually let conversations drop...but I also like for them to know that I'm interested in any story they want to tell. I continued: "Did you have a busy day?"

c d: "well...this job...is not so easy. I wait in the lot sometimes for two...two, three hours. Then, I get call to go to airport. And sometimes there not busy...so I wait again. Then they call us to the taxi stand, but when they call, 20 taxis drive up at a time, sometimes for only two or three people...so I have to wait there again. It's hard...for a short time, I don't mind....but this...this is not a real job. Not for long."

chee: "oh dear, how long have you been doing this?"

c d: "I did this for a little while, and then I had a real job last year, so I stopped. Then they had no more work after November, so I do this again. *sigh*"

chee: (*dismayed hm*)

c d: "Life was good where I'm from...have big house, no worries..."

chee: "Oh, why did you leave?"

c d: "I leave because I don't like the way they treat women, I want equality, I want to choose the government..." he continues weaving in and out of tiny streets, revealing that he has lived here for eight years now, that he had no choice in where to stay, it was settled by the UN. Before coming here, he wandered through several European countries for many years.

"...I left when I was young. Look at me now, because of what I believe in, I suffered, I never have a home...I wasted so much of my life." At this moment, he looked at me in the rear view mirror, my heart broke a little bit, and he didn't notice that our vehicle barely made it through the intersection on an amber just turning red traffic light.

chee: "sorry to interupt...but you have to turn right at the next intersection. Sorry, please go on."

c d: "oh, I know, I know...see? my turning light is on."

chee: "thank you"

c d: "Ok, so...what do you think of the world?"

chee: "oh...uh, the world?....oh geez. Uh...well...I think it is...immobilizing, when I think of all the suffering in this world, and so much seems unjust. But I like to think that everything will somehow balance out eventually. Mmmmm...we can only try to make the best of every situation and try our best to understand how the universe works."

c d: "yes, beliefs that encourage you to have an open mind and gain wisdom is what I like too" In the tiny rearview, I saw the furrow in his brow disappear.

We pulled up in front of my house, even though the rain poured down, he climbed out of the cab to shake hands with me.

this is what depressed five year olds might do

2009-03-17T23:32:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I was depressed. Or rather, maybe it's the first memory I have of being depressed. I was five years old.

All of a sudden, I had discovered what death was all about. What is the point of everything?!

I couldn't sit still on a couch unless I was upside down.

Unable to sleep, I'd wander out of my room in the middle of the night, find the piano bench and sprawl over it.

When I was able to sleep I would wake up and lie there, not moving - even when my foot was protruding from the tangle of blankets and feeling quite cold.

What a mess I was.

isn't everybody just like me?: part III

2009-03-10T22:25:00.000-07:00

After that one moment of pure joy, I got up to dance in celebration. I executed the flailing arms, body twisted in a different direction from the knee-bent jumping legs dance move with perfect form. I wondered what celebratory jigs my family and Mrs. Wong had decided to do. I opened my eyes and found everybody staring at me, mouths agape.

Oy.

I sat back down on the couch and shoved a handful of candies in my mouth. I can't even imagine what Mrs. Wong must have thought my parents were teaching me at home.

isn't everybody just like me?: part II

2009-03-09T22:06:00.000-07:00

This is something that I haven't been able to admit to myself since this event transpired.

When I was a child, I used to think that everybody had "a song", and it was universally known that this one song would always represent this one person. There was no reasoning behind why each song was chosen, often I would sit in the car and listen to the oldies station, thinking to myself, "oh yes, this melody is playing for my next door neighbor"..."oh, and this one is for her cat."

One day, I went to a family friend's house where my brother and I were served candy and chips. I was nibbling quietly away at the treats, when my mother's friend put the radio on. Could it be? It was "KILLING ME SOFTLY" playing on the radio! My eyes darted to look at my my mother's friend nonchalantly sipping her tea. What a moment! This was the first time ever that THE person and THE matching song ever crossed paths in front of me! I couldn't contain it, ofcourse I had to point it out to everybody! "It's the Angela Wong Song!!!!"

isn't everybody just like me?: part I

2009-03-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

This is a memory that I never let myself recall fully, even in my head, because for so many years it would embarrass me so much that I would physically squirm.

One day, just over a year ago, I told a very good friend about it - about how the five year old me happened to exclaim the very puzzling phrase, "Oh! it's the Angela Wong Song!" whilst dancing happily in the middle of a room full of people. To me, the most embarassing part was that I was wholly expecting everyone to nod excitedly and join in with the celebration.

childhood strangeness

2009-03-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

Before I discovered the concept of death, my parents tried to give me hints that such a thing existed. Once, I was told not to put a plastic bag over my head, "or else I would never see my mommy and daddy ever again." Oh no! Who would be so cruel to abduct my parents?! What would they do with them?! It was up to me to save my parents from that unknown fate.

So I was somehow smart enough to refrain from putting a bag over my head, but it was a very long time before I realized that I wasn't being all that altruistic for not doing it.

mini adults

2009-03-03T19:16:00.001-08:00

I see a lot of kids on the sidewalks these days jumping around with their toys, it's a joy to see. Lately, I've noticed that some of these toys are actually mini versions of adult things. Today, a little girl was happily pushing a red plastic shopping cart in a zig zag line, and a little boy was pushing a little vaccuum cleaner-like blue contraption while making whirring noises with his mouth. This reminds me of a time when my favorite christmas present was a plastic toy sink that pumped out real water and came with a bright green drying rack. Finally! I could wash my fake china after putting plastic toast and danishes on them! Now, I leave dishes in the sink, in hopes that they will clean themselves. They never do.
It makes me sad that these kids aren't able to enjoy the best part of childhood, which is lack of responsibilities.
I wonder if I should be sad about myself, for losing the sense of joy in washing dishes.

teaching dilemna

2009-02-24T23:28:00.000-08:00

Once every so often, I dabble a little in the teaching arts...and each experience is a learning one for me. Not just in working with children, I learn quite a lot about myself as well.
Most children are lovely, but today I had two girls in my class who seemed ultra self absorbed, they demanded things from me constantly. They wanted an extra pair of scissors (I caught them cutting their hair with it), they wanted a nicer glue stick...they wanted to take more pictures of their faces, they wanted desperately to be the first to present their project. It really annoyed me, and I felt terrible about this, but I found myself wanting to withhold things from them. I mean, I've been annoying people for years, and it's never gotten ME anything!

the IN-keeper

2009-02-17T13:27:00.001-08:00

Once upon a time, my friends and I stayed at this little bed and breakfast place that had a beautiful view of the ocean, and a cute little deck where I could enjoy the sound of the roaring waves, and the wind slipping through the swaying tall trees. But deep in this tranquil place, there lived an enigmatic caretaker. Through the week, interaction with this little innkeeper became more and more bizarre.

Day 1:

Made us a wonderful gourmet dinner, we shared laughter, some light conversation and we all went back to our own rooms to relax.

Day 2:

We decide to have fish and chips a quaint restaurant nearby. Just as we were walking out of the restaurant, innkeeper strolls in for his dinner. What a coincidence...well, not really, there are only four or five restaurants in that town.

Day 3:
At breakfast, to fill a bit of peaceful silence, "Last night I woke up and thought my nose was bleeding...but I switched on the light you know, and thank God, it was just mucus."

Day 4:
"...yeah, I was listening to hear if you were awake in there. Because you know, sometimes I can hear sounds you make in your room...like you open your closet door, or when you use your washroom"

Day 5:
"Visiting your mother makes her want you to see her more often. It's like an addiction...like sex and drugs - the more you do it the more you want to."

"...oh, maybe that is not the best way to explain it"

Day 6:
We had a work meeting during dinnertime and asked if we could have our meal in my room. Yes ofcourse we could. But then at dessert time - "Oh by the way, I made a blueberry cobbler today, you can have some with vanilla ice-cream...when you guys come over."

Day 7:
We looked on his coffee table, the remote control sat on top of a book...my heart was pounding as we slowly, and carefully pushed the remote control to the side, revealing the title: "How to Alienate Your Friends and Make Enemies"

Well, he didn't manage to make an enemy out of me. I left the little lodge and lived happily ever since.

illustration for this story to be posted tomorrow

here-sighted

2009-02-13T22:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, at 11 am, I finally gained some perspective on everything I've been going through in the past year. I feel like I'd been staring intently at a picture with one of my glasses lens popped out, all that time.

I'd been struggling with what seemed to be the world's longest breakup and heartbreak. I'd been angry, disappointed and very unhappy. But then, an hour before noon, I just let it all go. Finally everything that my loved ones had been saying to me made sense. It felt just as satisfying as putting the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle into that empty spot. I'm so happy now!

To celebrate, I'm going to pick out a new pair of sassy spectacles for myself! When the sun comes out, I want to make sure I have some clip on sunglasses.

last day of self indulgence

2009-02-10T22:55:00.000-08:00

I know there is a world full of sunshine and reality out there...I just haven't put my bag of chips down long enough to dig myself out.

well, one can hope

2009-02-08T22:48:00.000-08:00

Haida Gwaii - Night Light Show

2009-02-07T00:50:00.000-08:00

At night, we stumble out onto the beach with small flashlights in our hands. The broad darkness hovers over us so I close my fearful little eyes and listen to the rumbling waves for a bit. That didn't really quash my fears. I open my eyes and see a hazy brightness above me...the film floats away and I see the moon, all orangy and warm. It was sharp and glowy at the same time. Then the veil draws back over it. Someone says "thank you moon".

"Look!" down the other end of the beach, two flashes of lighting strike.

Then, above us, the clouds dispersed revealing millions of intensely bright little stars. Everywhere!

"I feel small" says a puny voice. It might have been mine.

Thank you night sky.

I'm in haven

2009-01-21T23:11:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, I was given a very important assignment. I was asked to look after plants at an apartment while the owners went on vacation. I packed myself an overnight bag, excited about being useful! Well, actually I was excited about having this little vacation of my own.

When I got to the apartment, I saw one little plant sitting on the sill, looking very healthy and well hydrated. There were lovely little notes welcoming me and a beautiful big piano situated before a large window...I opened the blinds and it revealed a gorgeous view of the city! I realized that I was probably the one to benefit the most from my stay at the apartment.

I played and crooned every night I was there...it was perfect!

lesson learned

2008-12-27T23:53:00.000-08:00

I haven't been to many parties this holiday season, and I'm not sure that I'm too upset about that.

At one party that I attended, I found myself small-talking with someone I'd met a few times already. She professed that she was bad with names and could not remember mine, so I reassured her that: "It's alright, I'm not usually good with names either. My name is Elisa."

"Sorry, what's your name?" [perhaps she couldn't hear me, or had never heard that name before.]

"El-lisa...that's Lisa with an E before it." [Ok I admit, maybe I mumbled that.]

"Listen, can I call you 'Ay'?"

[Why would she do that? There's no "ay" sound in my name at all. But then, what are the chances that she'll even remember to call me "Ay" the next time I see her?]

"Uh, sure."

Then someone else entered the conversation and introductions had to be made again.

"I'm Elisa, it's nice to meet you"

Bad with name girl interjects: "But I'm going to call her Ay."

New girl asks why - she thought my name started with an 'E'.

"Oh my god, really?! I didn't know that...why did you let me call you 'Ay'?"

I am so mortified.

Old Crow

2008-12-11T22:04:00.000-08:00

I've just returned from a trip to Old Crow, though my mom likes to tell people that I was in the North Pole for a week.

I love going places and finding myself changed by it. This time, I was mentoring in an Our World workshop, and one of the participants was a very distinguished looking elder who told us idyllic stories about trapping and hunting - living off the clean and beautiful Yukon land. He showed us photographs of people trapping and stretching muskrat hides. I thought the photographs were gorgeous and I suddenly wanted to live that life oh so much. That night, I dreamt we were camping out in Old Crow Flats together, checking on the muskrat traps we set in the pushups. It was a quiet and peaceful little dream.

Days later, I went inside a building and found a moose leg lying on the floor by the doorway. It was severed just below the knee joint - a slim length of a brown, furry, and bloody, stub. I was barely able to stay long enough to snap a picture before I had to pull myself away from it. I guess I wasn't as hardened as I thought I was.

Well, I'm still not disillusioned by the thought of living off the land. Maybe I can still go on camping trips, and sit with some soft, furry, willow buds in my hand while I feed on some tasty little berries.

koala keen

2008-11-10T23:48:00.000-08:00

Noosa Head National Park:

A few steps into the park, an Australian man came up to me and hesitantly said, "Oh, please excuse me...there is a koala in that tree there, he's a little bit far up, but you can still see him sleeping." I waited, wondering what it was that he expected me to do about it. Should I be climbing up the tree to rescue it?

Oh, he had only meant to point it out to me so that I could enjoy looking up at it. As I walked through the park, I was stopped by several Australians and told to take a peek at koalas sleeping in trees (that's what koalas do all day apparently). The friendly people seemed to enjoy telling me about the koalas as much as I enjoyed looking at the fury creatures!

In response to little Lisa G who asked how big my paintings are, they are pretty small. Here is an image of the painting beside a shiny Canadian penny. Thanks for your interest, Lisa!

the site of the WOW!

2008-10-28T22:34:00.000-07:00

It was a very twisty and kinetosis inducing Great Ocean Road that I found myself on for most of the day. Then just before the sun was about to set, my brother, steered the rental car into a parking lot. I opened the door to jump out,but it gave some resistance. It was a fierce wind that pushed back against the door! I fought my way out and then followed the signs that pointed me towards the Twelve Apostles.

No, not the followers of Jesus, these were rock formations in Victoria, Australia. I struggled against the wind towards the cliff edge, peeped out towards the ocean, and WOW!
The sun cast all it's raging orange brilliance on every form, the waves threw themselves relentlessly against the rocks. And the stoic rocks, just leaned into the wind and withstood all the fury of the scene.

The next morning we came back to the same spot to capture the scene in better photographic conditions. But in the friendly morning light, the wind was docile, and the waves were lazy - I just didn't appreciate the scene as much as I did the night before.

Travel Tip

2008-10-21T21:46:00.000-07:00

Try to find someone who looks seedier than you to line up behind at an airport security checkpoint.

I still can't pinpoint what it was that made me seem so shady that day, but on my way to Australia, I was specially selected for a pat down search every single time I passed through airport security.

On one occasion, there was a supervisor who was scrutinizing the progress of the security guard who was scrutinizing the waistband on my pants. He gave her a thumbs up and said "Good, you're doing a good job."

Be-Littled Peguins

2008-10-20T18:58:00.000-07:00

I've been in away on vacation for a few weeks, I know it's not the best excuse for neglecting my blog, but I can promise that the trip will be a lush source for many blog stories to come.

I was on the southern tip of Australia last month, where hundreds of Little Penguins swim up from the ocean at dusk and waddle across the beach into their little burrows. I settled myself along with the other spectators, onto the concrete staircase and waited for the penguins to emerge along the surf. The beach was illuminated by a very bright floodlight, put there for our viewing pleasure.

Half an hour after waiting, finally one lone penguin emerged. Then in groups, they washed up ashore, swiftly waddled over to, and pressed up against a pile of rocks as if to hide themselves. Some waited there for as long as twenty minutes before they thought it was safe to continue on. Then they furriously waddled up further and finally dissappeared into their nesting area.

I cooed over how cute and silly they were, trying to sneak up onto the beach. But after a while, I felt rather sad for them because they probably couldn't imagine how many people were sitting just beyond the reach of the floodlights, in the safety of natural darkness, watching their fruitless attempts at being undetected.

octopuses have three hearts

2008-09-03T23:45:00.001-07:00

My friend told me a joke that cheered me up the other day.

Q: What did the octopus say to the bagpipes?
A: "Nice Sweater!!"

This made me think of what it must be like to be friends with an octopus. Don't you think they would give the best hugs ever?

my neighbors

2008-09-01T22:03:00.000-07:00

As I was walking home today, I spotted my neighbors going for a walk. I couldn't help but notice how similar the trio looked.

a salute to an old sketchbook

2008-08-27T23:34:00.000-07:00

The excitement of today is that I finished my sketchbook! Often, you can find me making notes and furiously sketching things I see passing by me while I'm on the bus.

Here are a few excerpts:

- a dancy tree

- JAZZ!!!!

- a man with beautiful hair on the bus,
it was abundant but well groomed:
facial hair, bushy eyebrows,
a volumninous, shiny head of hair
he couldn't keep his hands out of it...
and why should he?

- when you're looking for a date
with someone you just want to click with

- and for the grand finale, a two page spread!

a lucky find on a gray day

2008-08-26T22:43:00.000-07:00

One miserably rainy day, I went out walking with a friend and spotted a my favorite bird standing on a wooden post.

"Look! A heron!" I shrieked.

My friend was skeptical, "I thought herons had long necks."

They do, only this one was posed much like I was at that moment. If he had hands, they would have been shoved deep into his pockets as he huddled against the ruthless pelting of the rain.

my foredoomed morning

2008-08-26T00:34:00.000-07:00

This happened to me on Friday morning. At some point I should have given up and gone home, but I didn't:

1) Twenty minutes into my transit ride, the numer 10 bus pulled to the curb. Another driver climbed on and announced that the cables ahead were broken and that we could go no further. We had the choice to sit there and wait, or walk three blocks west to catch another bus going downtown. "How long is the wait?" someone called out. Grimly, the bus driver replied, "We don't know."

2) I walked the three blocks and arrived at a bus stop. "Hmmm", I thought, "there's only one number 8 bus that will take me downtown. I'd better go to another spot where there will be more buses to catch."

3) Upon crossing the street, I see the number 8 bus pass by me to pick up passengers where I decided not to wait at.

4) Ten minutes later, I catch another number 8 bus.

5) The number eight idles at the bus stop I decided against, just to rub it in.

6) This is as far as I can go with the number 8, I get off to walk another three blocks to catch another that will take me to my destination.

7) I arrive just as a bus pulls in. It is the number 10 that I had impatiently alit when the cables were down. If I had only waited I would have ended up in the same place at the same time.

comfort food

2008-08-21T21:14:00.000-07:00

When I directed my first video shoot a few days ago, I had everything organized - even what food I would serve to the crew and the talent. I had a grand spread that included doughnuts, muffins, (delicious, from Swiss Bakery) bread with spinach dip, a large veggie platter, and many more snack foods. The table was completely filled and I started to worry that I'd really overdone it.

Eight hours into the shoot, we still had many more scenes to capture. The crew was tired from working non-stop all day, and the talent was becoming impatient, always waiting for the crew to set up every shot. It was almost beginning to be a bad situation, but somehow after ten hours, we all managed to finish the day in high spirits.

As I nibbled on a doughnut at the end of the night, I thought about how there can never be too much food where there is boredom and stress.

oh no!

2008-08-20T23:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday night, I had a dream that my blog was on the news. People were concerned about my well being because I hadn't posted a blog for a week. Some speculated that I'd been kidnapped, others thought I'd won the lottery and moved to the Bahamas.

Sheepish and guilt ridden by my neglectful ways, I considered the idea of running away.

there's magic in the number three

2008-08-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not doing a good job promoting the public transit system, here is yet another bit of strangeness I experienced the other day:

I was having a conversation with a friend about the diving competition in the olympics,

"Wow, and they can do it synchronized, can you imagine?"
"Yeah, when it played on TV, they took stills from different stages of the dive and compared their poses, it matched exactly! Isn't that amazing?!"

A woman tries to enter the bus with a small child, the door almost closes on the little boy's head. She then proceeds to the front of the bus to show her bus pass. The driver scolds her for using the back doors to enter but she ignores him.

"Isn't it? Isn't it amazing?"

A man starts to yell at the driver, at first I think it's because the driver isn't letting him on, but I see that the door is still open, I leaned forward to try to hear what he's yelling about.

"I mean, for every moment in time that they..."

The woman beside me decides to get off the bus, she sweeps by us, leaving a terrible stench and we notice that she is caressing a white rat on her shoulder, and the rat has a very large protuberance on the side of his stomach.

No conversation can survive events such as these, we let the topic die.

green screen

2008-08-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

I want to shoot some video and use it with animated elements and backgrounds, so I have to film in front of something called a green screen. I don't know where to find such a thing to rent, so I "Cheapy Chee'd" it and bought 24 yards of bright green fabric at the Textile Clearance House - I'll make my own green screen!
The poor woman who had to cut the fabric for me, she asked me to repeat how many yards I needed three times because she couldn't fathom the idea of anyone needing 24 yards of bright green fabric. As she measured out the fabric yard by yard, I tried to think of what she might imagine that I would need this fabric for.

...

Surely I won't need ALL 24 yards of fabric for green screening, would I?

success story at the beach

2008-08-12T00:35:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I attended a beach barbeque. I ate some delicious charred meats, then I lay around for quite a while. When my friend asked me to play frisbee with him, I felt guilty for being so sedentary under the beautiful sun...lazing around is clearly an indoor sport.

I wasn't very good at throwing the frisbee, most of the time it went in the wrong direction, once, it even came back and hit me in the face. My friend taught me that there is such a thing as the perfect time to release the frisbee so that it goes exactly where you want it to. Finally, after practicing quite a few more times I learned to feel the rim of the frisbee rolling off each finger and to let go at the right time. The frisbee soared straight ahead! My friend was able to catch and throw it back to me - this time it didn't hit me in the face.

wasp in the window

2008-08-10T20:08:00.000-07:00

The new buses in this city have big windows, but small window openings. The sun beats into the bus, heating the air that can't escape the vehicle. The other day, when I settled into a sun warmed seat, I spotted a wasp in front of me.

It was loitering about, by the window when suddenly it reared back and smashed it's head into the glass. Disoriented, it flew around a bit before it banged into the glass again. This time it fell down to the window sill. Before long it got up, looked out of another section of the window - looked at the beautiful cool breeze tickling the leafy tips of the lush green trees. It rushed headfirst towards the glass again and fell to the window sill.

I understood. I pushed the button to signal that I wanted the bus to stop, and when the doors finally opened, the wasp followed me out.

how to fight insomnia #1

2008-08-08T00:12:00.000-07:00

Today I was talking to my friend about her sleepless night. I think everybody has their own way of battling insomnia, but I just wanted to share a trick that always seems to work for me.

First, I settle into a very comfortable position (fetal is most preferable). Then I close my eyes and make sure that the room is dark enough. Now, I will conjure up images of things that make me incredibly happy...I imagine wonderful scenarios like what I would do with a million dollars, or what I would say at my coronation ceremony, and plan my acceptance speech at the Academy Awards.

The more enjoyable this reverie is, the sooner it is that my hateful mind decides that I've had enough fun. It then shuts down and abandons me to the unconscious dreams.

things to savour

2008-08-06T22:36:00.000-07:00

I can't help it, I love birthdays. For some people it means partying with friends and being celebrated. I like to treat myself to some fried chicken.

It's not ordinary Church's chicken - it's special because I've been anticipating it for three hundred and sixty four days.

Anything will taste better if you've abstained from it for a long time. Try it!

me, me, me

2008-08-05T00:19:00.000-07:00

People have been asking me what I've been up to lately. This is my favorite answer: "Last week I've been mentoring in a workshop!"

Then I like to gush: "It was with a really fun bunch of people who are writers!...and artists! and I get to work with them to make a digital storytelling pieces! based on wonderful things they've already written! They're all fun to be with! and funny too!"

Then before they get the opportunity to tell me to shut up because I'm practically yelping, and it's hurting their ears, I sneak in the final line "I miss them all already!"

What people also find annoying is that I now refer to dates as either pre-workshop or post-workshop. "When did he propose to you? Oh, you mean, three weeks before the workshop started."

It IS possible that I'm being too self-absorbed when it comes to sharing this experience. But I don't think I'm going to stop.

the swim suit search

2008-08-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

The other day I bought a month pass to use the public pool near my house. Since I intend to swim a few times a week, I had to go to the mall to buy myself a second bathing suit.

Buying a bathing suit is not an easy task.

It's a solitary endeavor; you don't want new friends to see so much of you. And if you have very good friends who you like, you certainly don't want to subject them to that kind of visual torture.

19 times, I put on a swimsuit and decided that I looked nothing like the picture of the model wearing the bathing suit, on the tag. The women in the pictures look graceful, slim, and pose in a beach setting, though there isn't a hint of sand stuck onto their glistening bodies.

The twentieth time in the change room, I tried on a suit that had it's tag ripped off. I succeeded in looking just like myself.

So I bought it.

my brother: character sketch

2008-07-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

When I was seventeen, I had a drivers license, places to go, and no car of my own. My older brother, on the other hand, had a brand new car sitting in the garage while he took the bus to work. One hot summer day, I needed to run an errand that was an hour's walk away, so I decided to borrow his car without asking him.

I scratched his car, just exiting the garage.

When I returned, I saw that there was a very deep 10 inch long defacement on the shiny silver paint of his passenger door. I felt fear, but mostly I felt remorse...I was a very selfish, bratty sister, and he was going to hate me!

When my brother came home, he saw me crying and asked what was wrong. Between the blubbering, I told him about my wrongdoings. He didn't hate me at all, in fact, he tried to cheer me up!

Art Therapy Session: 1 (bus incident)

2008-07-27T23:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I hopped onto the bus and had to stand because all the seats were taken. I started staring out the window and daydreaming as per usual. Suddenly I heard a gruff voice behind me: "GET OUTTA THE *#&@'EN WAY!!!"

It was a very irate man with a very wide bag trying to get to the exit door behind me. After quickly squeezing myself into a small space to let him through, my first reaction was to shrug it off. Obviously the man had some issues unrelated to me, causing him to be so unreasonable.

But then as time passed, I thought 'well, he should have asked politely. I would have moved if I'd known he wanted to pass through'...a few moments later: 'is it me? was I inconsiderate to be so unaware of the needs of the people around me?'. As more time passed, I began to feel a little bit irate about him having personal issues and turning his wrath on me.

I'm beginning to think that bad feelings don't go away, they are conserved like energy in laws of physics...it never disappears, only takes on different forms. I didn't want to thrust this yuckiness onto anyone else, so I quickly sat in a newly vacated seat and drew furiously. This was the most satisfying form of revenge for me.

common sensorship

2008-07-25T23:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I forget how strange I can be. Once, I went to a bookstore in a mall and saw a fabulous book of Schiele's drawings on sale.
I couldn't wait to gaze upon his artwork - the colours, the textures, the expressiveness of his drawing style...they are sublimely beautiful and reproductions of it were in my little hands!
It was wrong - I know, that I walked through the mall with my eyes locked onto the pages of a book. What made it even more awkward was that Schiele's work is mostly made up of drawings of nude women. Now that I think about it, I rather hope the people around me thought I was strange, instead of depraved.

nature happy

2008-07-25T00:54:00.000-07:00

I have a new obsession.

I like lying on grass... in the park, on someone's front yard, anywhere. The other day I was lazing around on a lovely green spread, looking up at crows in the trees, and I really felt at peace with everything around me.

But then I sat up and discovered that I'd just smooshed an entire family of ants.

screen magic

2008-07-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

My yesternight:
At 7:00pm, tired from teaching animation during the day, I reluctantly hopped on the #22 bus to the purple thistle for a filmmaking workshop and screening. I wasn't sure what it would be like, and I didn't think that there was anything they could teach me about film making that I didn't know about already. I hoped that I wouldn't fall asleep at the screening.

I arrived and instantly spotted a handsome looking blue bus, where I was invited in to sit with other filmmakers and animate by drawing directly on film. Then, we headed outside where the two lovely hosts from the Echo Park Film Center unrolled a screen on the side of the bus, pulled out a projector and started showing some beautiful and honest short films, two of which were made in Vancouver - with the filmmakers in attendance! When it got cold, blankets were handed out. In between intermissions, the Bingo Bunny came out to call out numbers and hand out prizes...then filmmakers talked about their work. The night ended with the screening of the animation we worked on earlier in the evening.

There was a grin on my face the entire night, and I was so glad that I went - it's quite a different and wonderful experience to watch a screening when you're in the presence of people who have such a great enthusiasm for film.

animation is the fountain of youth

2008-07-22T23:45:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was tutoring two nine year old girls in animation. They seemed to be enjoying the lesson most of the time and were even eager to get back to their project after their lunch break. The screening of their very cute film was scheduled for the afternoon, programed to play after a feature length documentary. I was fidgety during the post production process because of the tight deadline, but both girls reassured me that the film would be played later than we thought it would. "Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Because, they always talk about films afterwards for a long time." replied one of my students.
"Who's 'they'?" I asked.
"The adults!" she replied, exasperated with me and my dumb questions.

I'm almost two years shy of being thirty. But then, it was just too fun animating at that table with them - I let them think I was nine years old too.

telephobia

2008-07-21T21:38:00.000-07:00

I wanted to print some colour images onto vellum but I wasn't sure where to get this done. If I were to go to a printer, would I have to buy the vellum first, or do they have vellum already there? Should I buy the paper first, and then show up with it? or visit the printers to make sure that they wouldn't reject foreign paper? It was clear to me, and I couldn't avoid it, I had to phone in to ask.

I dreaded every second leading up to the call. I looked up the phone number hoping that the number wasn't available, but it was. Then, sadly, I heard dial tone when I picked up the receiver. I pressed the buttons, the phone rang, then rang again...it rang about five or six times - I imagined two teenagers standing behind the counter having a great chat, rolling their eyes at the ringing phone. Finally someone picked up.

I clumsily blurted something out in my small voice, already turning red from embarrassment by how awkwardly I'd phrased the question. Then, the man answered, he stuttered, he "ummmed" and "errred", and he repeated each answer twice as if he was unsure and wanted to test the answer by hearing it out loud.

When all my questions had been answered, I stuttered and offered many 'thank yous' and he did the same with his "you're welcomes'.

the artful browser

2008-07-18T23:20:00.000-07:00

I've gone into this one art supplies store for the third time this week already just to browse.

I don't ever intend to buy anything, I just like to stand there and admire things. First, I loiter about the brushes and the paints, and then after that, the sketchbooks. I feel up the soft bristles, thumb through the watercolour paper, and test out pens on the scrap of paper they leave out for that purpose. The sales people, I think they recognize me, but I am defiant and shameless. I pick things up and leave them elsewhere, I hold on to expensive items for a little bit too long.

Ok, I admit, this story is only half true. I was there one too many times, it's true, but each time I was paranoid about people thinking I was a shady character, so I walked around with my hands conspiciously away from my pockets at all times. And today, embarassed that someone might tag me as the creepy art store browser, I bought a pen.

bench pressing matters

2008-07-17T19:31:00.000-07:00

Lunch is usually a fun and carefree time, especially on a sunny day. I ran outside with my friend to relax in the park where there was a perfectly situated empty bench awaiting us in the shade.

"Lets sit there!", she hops over to the bench first and sits down. I was a few steps behind, and I now assessed the situation: There was an extra arm rest in the center of the bench as well as on both ends. Is this a two person bench? or a four person bench? If I sat in the small space between my friend and the armrest, would I fit? If I chose to sit on the other side of the metal armrest, would there be too much space between us?

I think I made the right choice, I sat between her and the arm rest...that's the right choice, isn't it?

mini tennis

2008-07-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was a bit hectic for me. Running from one little meeting to another, schlepping my laptop case with me, stopping into stores to run errands and trying to catch buses in between. Then several hours hunched over the wacom tablet trying to finish pre-production work for a self-invoked deadline. Late in the afternoon finally, it was mini tennis time.

Mini tennis explained:
After two tennis lessons, my very patient instructor recommended that I practice my swing by playing mini tennis. Because one only uses a quarter of the entire court, and stays close to the net, they are forced to slow down their movements. This allows one to focus and pay close attention to how each motion one makes, effects where the ball ends up on the other side.

It was a lovely late afternoon, playing mini tennis with my friend. The goal was to volley the ball lightly back and forth as long as we possibly could. We contemplated on the idea of how mini tennis could be a philosophy of life, instead of just a tennis drill. How wonderful it would be if we could decide where to draw our own boundaries and live as slowly and lightly as we feel like.

dave #5776

2008-07-16T02:12:00.000-07:00

My phone line wasn't working the entire weekend, and yesterday I went to my phone service provider's homepage to look up their number so that I could call them with my cell phone. I saw this online customer service option and thought that it would be a good idea to try it instead of phoning in and talking to a representative with my 12 year old sounding voice. But somehow even without my "ums" and "ers", it was a more awkward experience than it would have been on the phone. The conversation went a little like this:

dave #5776: Thank you for choosing -----, I will try to help you with your technical issue.
[30 seconds pass, I'm thinking that I should type something to let him know that I'm here]
Elisa: Oh, thank you
dave #5776: I just want to verify your address to make sure I'm looking at the right account here.
Elisa: Sure, its 5555 blah blah street
dave #5776: Thank you
[2 minutes later, he still hadn't typed anything new, has he fallen asleep? Did he get up to grab a coffee? Should I say "you're welcome"?]
dave #5776: Ok, can you take a look at your phone modem and tell me how many lights are on?
Elisa: What exactly does my phone modem look like?
[after 1 minute, I can never be sure but I think he sounded a little terse with his reply]
dave #5776: It's a black box with lights
[that sounds like a lot of things in my house, but I got up from my computer to search, this took 2 minutes and I was getting increasingly worried that Dave #5776 would think that I'd given up on his help]
Elisa: I found it!
dave #5776: Great, how many lights are on?
Elisa: Oh right, five lights and two that are blinking.
dave #5776: That sounds alright to me. Can you try plugging the phone in directly to the modem?
Elisa: Ok, I did it.
dave #5776: Did you hear the phone ring?
Elisa: No, I didn't. And there is still no dial tone.
dave #5776: Did you plug in a cordless, or a corded phone?
Elisa: A cordless, is that OK?
dave #5776: Yes, just make sure the battery is charged.
Elisa: Yes it is...should I try plugging in a corded phone anyways?
dave #5776: No, it should work if the battery is charged.
[I just wanted to be helpful, but three minutes after this last message I began to wonder if I'd pissed him off with my presumption]

Then the phone rings and it's not Dave calling, it's Rob who is helping Dave with my technical issue. I muttered a "oh, yeah, thanks, bye." And hung up.

dave #5776: Looks like that went well.
[too wierd, too wierd! how does he know? why did he have to ask Rob to phone? Where the heck is he? Maybe he's not even a tech person at all, just a super fast typer with good instant messaging manners - he's got another window open for writing to Rob, the actual tech person, and he's got Judge Judy on the TV, he writes his messages to me during commercial breaks.]
Elisa: Yeah, thanks for your help!
[2 minutes pass, unsure about what to do, I closed the window.]

Hotel Experience: Bella Coola - part 4 (the end)

2008-07-14T22:19:00.000-07:00

I was somehow able to hold in all my distress through most of the next day. But then over my pork cutlet dinner, I blurted out to my friends, "Uh...I think there's a ghost in my room!".

They looked at me, and they were all wonderfully calm. We shared ghostly experiences and talked about why the ghost would want to hang out in my room. Maybe the ghost was musing on why I was hanging out in his or her room at that same exact moment.

I went back upstairs, poked my head into the bathroom and introduced myself to the general direction of the sink. Then I gave a light lecture on water conservation, though I added reassuringly that I was actually quite amused by all the trick playing. Finally I respectfully requested that the ghost make her or himself comfortable at anytime in the room, except while I was sleeping.

The tap never turned on by itself after that! And the ghost was great company, we watched many a bad TV show together that week.

Hotel Experience: Bella Coola - part 3

2008-07-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

The next morning, I awoke to see the room saturated with cheerful daylight. I thought to myself that surely nothing sinister could ever happen in a room such as this! I whistled a happy tune and prepared for the day, brushing my teeth, washing my face - conscious of turning the tap off after every use.

When night came, I became a bit anxious about being in the room by myself all night. Luckily, I was invited to my friend's room for a nice chat and some television viewing, so I took a quick shower and scuttled across the hall in my pink pyjamas. When I returned two hours later, I heard a familiar sound. Was it what I thought it was?

Indeed it was - this time, the faucet in the bathtub was running at it's fullest.

Hotel Experience: Bella Coola - part 2

2008-07-12T00:05:00.000-07:00

What a wonderful state I was in, sleeping off my exhaustion - when suddenly I woke up. I looked over at the clock, it was 2 am. I turned over and closed my eyes, but the sleep wouldn't come. I adjusted the pillows, pulled the sheets up to my chin, wiggled my toes, but still felt that I wasn't situated right...I just couldn't go back to sleep!

In my grogginess, I tried to concentrate and troubleshoot, it wasn't the temperature, that was fine. It wasn't the lighting, it was sufficiently dark in the room. Ah ha, it was a very loud constant noise!

I tried to tune it out, but after 20 minutes of trying not to think of the noise and hence doing nothing but think of the noise, I decided to investigate where it was coming from. I peeped into the bathroom to find the faucet turned on full blast. Had I forgotten to turn it off in my fatigued state? How was I able to fall asleep listening to it run like that?! HAS it been on this entire time? But if it hadn't, who turned it on?! eek!

Hotel Experience: Bella Coola - part 1

2008-07-10T23:10:00.000-07:00

The year before last, I went to Bella Coola for the first time.

This was my wacky transit experience:

I cabbed two hours early to the airport where I was finally let onto a wee little plane that was forced to land at the Anaheim Lake airport because it was simply too snowy to land at the intended destination, Hagensborg. From there I would have had to ride a little school bus for more than 3 hours down an icy, windy road except that one of the passengers on the plane was a pilot who offered me and two others a ride in a helicopter. This mode of transport would take only 1.5 hours to get the Hagensborg but then it would involve a different kind of danger. I took the ride but fretted all the way to Bella Coola about the cargo that I couldn't bring with me on the helicopter. Finally at Hagensborg, a very nice woman from the hotel came to pick me up, but the cargo was on the bus that would arive two hours later - would they go back and retrieve it for me? What was I to do?!

When I got to my hotel room, I passed out immediately on my comfortable bed - exhausted from all the worrying of the day.

subliminal crime fighting

2008-07-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

When I sleep through my radio alarm clock, I often have very strange dreams featuring things that I hear on the radio. Having subconsciously heard a newscast about the mysterious demise of a Canadian woman in China today, I dreamed that I was wandering the streets of Shanghai trying to investigate what happened without knowing where I was or even where to start. I walked down two blocks and said "A HA!" Then I woke up and forgot what my revelation was.

a slumpy day

2008-07-08T23:59:00.000-07:00

This was me today.

bus dilemna

2008-07-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

After waking up later than I had wanted, I hastily made my way to the bus stop near my house. One block away from it, the bus swept by me and stopped to let some passengers out.
What to do?! Should I run for it? How many people were getting out? Did the driver see me? These heavy questions slowed me down as I neared the bus - before I reached it, it pulled away.

Well, sometimes when you feel shafted, the only thing you can do is pretend to yourself that you didn't really want what you did anyways. I shrugged and walked down further in hopes to catch another bus, but then the traffic light changed in my favour and the same bus stopped again in front of me at the next bus stop! This time it was a short distance to run and I caught it without looking too much like a fool.

Catching the bus you intended to take is the most wonderful miracle of all.

dessertion

2008-07-07T00:23:00.000-07:00

Friday night, my friend asked me over to bake with her but somehow, I never made it there to help her. She toiled all night to make cupcakes and a yogurt pineapple cake.

Saturday I woke up and decided that it would be nice of me to visit her just to see how she did with the baking. The desserts were delicious, the cupcakes were delightfully fluffy and the cake was drool worthy.

This whole situation was like the little red hen story except with a different ending! The lazy animal reaped the rewards! This is a terrible story to tell children, I'll have to make up for this and be more helpful next time.

chocolate pudding cake

2008-07-04T00:29:00.000-07:00

Tonight I had a most delightful time. A delicious homemade Tonkatsu dinner followed by a walk to this dessert place called Sweet Revenge. I ordered a chocolate pudding cake and got to taste my friends' white chocolate cheesecake and chocolate mousse cake. With good company and the sensation of being in the right place in the right moment, I felt like I was a plate of heavenly chocolate pudding cake - warm and gooey.

bodyless bliss

2008-07-02T23:34:00.000-07:00

Last week's issue of the New Yorker had an article called "The Itch" about persistent itching and how our brains and bodies work - actually it's more like how our brains and bodies seem to work against us! I was so engrossed in this truly horrific account of one woman's chronically itchy scalp experience that I even forgot to read the cartoons printed beside the article!

I'm a bit distressed from reading about how much grief one's body could cause a person. This is my idea perfection - we're all floating fields of happy colours, there is no need to see a doctor ever.

Hotel Experience: Teslin - part 4 (the end)

2008-07-01T23:27:00.000-07:00

The sweat soaked bed I lay on was situated right by the window, save for the little gap between where the heat vent ceaselessly blew out hot air. I opened the window for some relief but when a breeze finally found its way into the room it was more like steam being forced out of a boiling kettle.

I think I was on fire!

The things people do in desperation - at 4 am I took a cold shower but relief was shortlived.

At 6am, the sun began to rise, I ran out to greet it, vowing to never be warm again.

Hotel Experience: Teslin - part 3

2008-07-01T23:13:00.000-07:00

After reading one chapter from my book, it felt a little bit warm, so I threw off my covers and got up to turn the thermostat down to 18 degrees. You never know how cold it might get late in the night after falling asleep.

Half an hour later I wiped the sweat off my forehead and turned the thermostat down to 12 degrees.

By 1:00 am, the thermostat was turned completely off, but it was hotter than a sauna in my room!

Hotel Experience: Teslin - part 2

2008-06-30T00:18:00.000-07:00

I was stepping off the plane in Whitehorse, the sun was out and the snow covered scene in front of me was absolutely gorgeous. I found myself perfectly protected against the fresh cold northern air.

Two hours later, we arrived in Teslin, where I was happy to see a cute little motel room waiting for me, I quickly brushed my teeth, jumped into the long johns that were to be my pyjamas, adjusted the thermostat to a comfortable 20 degrees Celsius and lay in bed with a book.

Hotel Experience: Teslin - part 1

2008-06-29T20:00:00.000-07:00

Last year, when I told people that I was going on a trip to Teslin, Yukon, everyone quizzed me on how prepared I was for the cold weather. Their advice: get a down feather jacket, long johns and good winter boots. So I bought myself a purple puffy jacket, a matching set of waffle knit long johns, and then I went shopping for boots. The tag on a pair of pretty green Columbia's promised to be effective in a -30 degrees climate. Was that going to be enough protection?

I was worried, so I lined my toque with fleece that I later discovered was intended for blanket making.

my sentiments on shrimp

2008-06-28T00:43:00.000-07:00

Today I went for dim sum with my family. I have a love-hate relationship with dim sum. On one hand I get to have fresh egg tarts and eat them with chopsticks. On the other hand, all the other dishes seem to have shrimp in it. Which can be a great thing except that I'm allergic to all seafood. Even the vegetarian dishes had shrimps today. I was hungry all afternoon.

Later on in the day, I went into the art store, Deserres, and picked up a book on Chinese painting techniques. A painting on one page really caught my eye, it was gorgeous, each brushstroke was deliberate and expressive. I couldn't take my eyes off of it!

It was a painting of shrimps.

So I guess I now have a complex relationship with shrimps too.

camera obscura

2008-06-26T11:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, "Carts of Darkness" was being shown in the theater and a camera was thrust into my hands. I was asked to go in there to take some pictures of the people waiting for a screening to start. I think the photos were going to be posted on a website detailing the screening event. So, just mingle with the people and take pictures...easy, right?

Me? Mingle?!

I've heard about how shy people like being photographers because they can hide behind the lens and interact with people in their own way. How big are the camera's that these shy people can hide enough of themselves behind it?! I took some awful pictures because I was too nervous to wait for the right moments before taking snapshots.

The camera obscura comes in handy for occasions like these.

the first time is always a little awkward

2008-06-25T14:51:00.000-07:00

It's funny, I've been working on digital storytelling projects for the last two years - helping people make little movies using still photos and personal stories (take a look, they're really good!) I like to encourage people to share their experiences and be creative. Every time I'm part of a workshop, I'm always happy with what the participants come up with, and the stories are always fascinating to me. But for myself, I have a hard time thinking of what to write...even office birthday cards make me anxious. So this blog is for me to find something to say that I think will interest people and to practice expressing myself through words and drawings...maybe little animated movies if I'm feeling ambitious. Why not, right?