Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Monday, October 24, 2005
I remember wanting to go see Star Wars when it first came out.
Major problem...we were not allowed to go to movie theatres. Ever. For any reason. This did not make sense to me, and at the age of 11, I was seriously grilling my mother for reasons why. "Why can't I go?" "What is the big deal with movie theatres?" "Why?" She could never give me a satisfactory answer, and I was the only person in my whole school who hadn't seen Star Wars when I was in Grade 7. I would sit on the school bus and listen to the other kids talk about how many times they had seen it, and I would just want to cry.
This led to an obsession with Star Wars on my part. I bought the Star Wars novel. I bought Star Wars trading cards. I imagined I was Princess Leia kicking the snot out of overly-religious parents who wouldn't let their children go to see movies in a theatre.
The obsession is mainly over now, though I will always remember with fondness the first three movies. Anybody want some trading cards? I have almost the whole set....but they're in really crappy condition. I spent too much time looking at them, playing with them, using them to tell myself the story of the movie, counting them, sleeping with them....you get the picture. On second thought, I think I'll keep the cards.
Major problem...we were not allowed to go to movie theatres. Ever. For any reason. This did not make sense to me, and at the age of 11, I was seriously grilling my mother for reasons why. "Why can't I go?" "What is the big deal with movie theatres?" "Why?" She could never give me a satisfactory answer, and I was the only person in my whole school who hadn't seen Star Wars when I was in Grade 7. I would sit on the school bus and listen to the other kids talk about how many times they had seen it, and I would just want to cry.
This led to an obsession with Star Wars on my part. I bought the Star Wars novel. I bought Star Wars trading cards. I imagined I was Princess Leia kicking the snot out of overly-religious parents who wouldn't let their children go to see movies in a theatre.
The obsession is mainly over now, though I will always remember with fondness the first three movies. Anybody want some trading cards? I have almost the whole set....but they're in really crappy condition. I spent too much time looking at them, playing with them, using them to tell myself the story of the movie, counting them, sleeping with them....you get the picture. On second thought, I think I'll keep the cards.
Monday, October 17, 2005
I remember watching an old man trying on boots.
It was the late 1980's, and I was making my semi-regular trip to my personal Mecca...Fluevog Shoes on Granville Street in Vancouver. I'd look at shoes and boots, dreaming about owning just one more pair. Everywhere on display were black leather pointy-toed boots with buckles and zippers, all kinds of shoes and boots, all very avant-garde and unique.
I headed past the unisex and men's shoes in the front part of the store and into the room that had women's shoes and boots to see if there were any new styles. There was a man talking to the salesman. The man was old, short of height and thick around the middle, balding head with wisps of grey hair around the edges, and wearing a grey suit. He was saying to the salesman, "I'd like to see them in a size 11, please." The young, trendy-looking salesman popped to the very back of the store, while I continued to look at shoes. (I can look at shoes for a long time...) He came back with a large pair of red leather, thigh-high boots with four-inch stiletto heels and very pointed toes. He handed the boots to the old man.
All of a sudden I wasn't quite sure where to look; I had a feeling it would be impolite to stare! I managed to maneuver myself into a place where I could watch by looking in a reflection, and saw the old man pull up his pant leg and try on the boot. He zipped it up the back and stood looking at himself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see if looked right. He walked around the shop a bit to get the feel of the boot.
I left. I didn't want to know if he actually bought the boots or not. I didn't want to imagine him wearing those boots. I kept hoping that maybe his wife happened to have very large feet just the same size as his, and he was buying her a present. I was trying so hard to not be from a small town, and I'd keep running into stuff like this, making me uncomfortable.
It was the late 1980's, and I was making my semi-regular trip to my personal Mecca...Fluevog Shoes on Granville Street in Vancouver. I'd look at shoes and boots, dreaming about owning just one more pair. Everywhere on display were black leather pointy-toed boots with buckles and zippers, all kinds of shoes and boots, all very avant-garde and unique.
I headed past the unisex and men's shoes in the front part of the store and into the room that had women's shoes and boots to see if there were any new styles. There was a man talking to the salesman. The man was old, short of height and thick around the middle, balding head with wisps of grey hair around the edges, and wearing a grey suit. He was saying to the salesman, "I'd like to see them in a size 11, please." The young, trendy-looking salesman popped to the very back of the store, while I continued to look at shoes. (I can look at shoes for a long time...) He came back with a large pair of red leather, thigh-high boots with four-inch stiletto heels and very pointed toes. He handed the boots to the old man.
All of a sudden I wasn't quite sure where to look; I had a feeling it would be impolite to stare! I managed to maneuver myself into a place where I could watch by looking in a reflection, and saw the old man pull up his pant leg and try on the boot. He zipped it up the back and stood looking at himself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see if looked right. He walked around the shop a bit to get the feel of the boot.
I left. I didn't want to know if he actually bought the boots or not. I didn't want to imagine him wearing those boots. I kept hoping that maybe his wife happened to have very large feet just the same size as his, and he was buying her a present. I was trying so hard to not be from a small town, and I'd keep running into stuff like this, making me uncomfortable.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
I remember getting a Hot Wheels Fat Track for Christmas one year when I was really little.
We had been opening and opening the presents, and there wasn't one for me from Santa. This was very disheartening, and I almost didn't want to mention it...wouldn't that be admitting that Santa thought I was bad, that I didn't deserve a present?...but I had to ask if maybe it was somewhere else and I'd missed it. My dad said he thought he saw something in their bedroom that morning, maybe I should look. I ran to the door (right off the living room, of COURSE Santa would leave something there for me, why didn't I think of that?) and burst into the room. There, with a bow on the Juice Pump (battery pack), was an oval Hot Wheels Fat Track plus two cars. Yahoo!
Santa never let me down by bringing Barbies or dresses...he always came through with a toy revolver or something...and this year was the best ever. My own race track!! Cooler than the boys at school had!!! None of the other presents mattered anymore at ALL, and I played with that track non-stop. You could juice up the cars at the battery station, then they'd race anywhere, even on the kitchen linoleum! You didn't need an electric line on the track to keep them going...very cool. I miss that track. I'd play with it now if I had it.
We had been opening and opening the presents, and there wasn't one for me from Santa. This was very disheartening, and I almost didn't want to mention it...wouldn't that be admitting that Santa thought I was bad, that I didn't deserve a present?...but I had to ask if maybe it was somewhere else and I'd missed it. My dad said he thought he saw something in their bedroom that morning, maybe I should look. I ran to the door (right off the living room, of COURSE Santa would leave something there for me, why didn't I think of that?) and burst into the room. There, with a bow on the Juice Pump (battery pack), was an oval Hot Wheels Fat Track plus two cars. Yahoo!
Santa never let me down by bringing Barbies or dresses...he always came through with a toy revolver or something...and this year was the best ever. My own race track!! Cooler than the boys at school had!!! None of the other presents mattered anymore at ALL, and I played with that track non-stop. You could juice up the cars at the battery station, then they'd race anywhere, even on the kitchen linoleum! You didn't need an electric line on the track to keep them going...very cool. I miss that track. I'd play with it now if I had it.
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