After my
two week break from Savannah, I caught a ride back to Savannah with my friend
Zach. I realized that I really did not like Carson earlier in the summer,
especially after he tried to kick his homeless mother out on the streets, got
into a fight with his younger brother over who got to log out of something on
the computer, and continually went behind me and changed anything I did to the
apartment to better suit him and his taste.
I had spent all summer trying to
avoid depression. There is something about the summer that causes me to always
wind up depressed. I had devoted my time and energy into painting and was very
proud of my work. I hung some of them in the living room of the apartment,
along with a couple of movie posters that I did not have room for in my
bedroom. I had figured that it would be no big deal, seeing as how Carson too
had personal stuff hung up in the common areas, but apparently, it was.
When I got back to Savannah, I
went in and noticed that my paintings were missing from the common room and
that one of my posters had been taken down. When I asked him about it, he told
me, “It fell down and I could not get it to stay back up.” That was fine with
me, and I did not even question it, especially with my paintings. How they were
secured to the wall, I could believe that they had fallen, but it did not make
too much sense how a thumbtack would miraculously pop out of sheetrock. But whatever,
it was all right; I could just put them back up.
When I tried to put the poster,
back up I discovered the true reason that they had been “fallen down.” As I was
putting the last thumbtack back into the poster, Carson walked into the living
room. “What are you doing,” he said.
I responded lightheartedly with,
“What does it look like; I am putting it back up.”
“I don’t really like it there,” he
said.
“Oh well, I live here too and I
do. You have stuff in the living room too. I don’t like the traffic cones and
the bricks and that ugly ass thing that you call art. Get over it.” I said as I
pushed the last thumbtack in.
I probably should not have insulted his art work, since I myself am not world renowned artist. But the thing was a plastic painting knife attached to a canvas board with some light electric blue paint smeared around, and a piece of duct tape affixed to the pop with a whole cut threw it so that it could hang from one of those 3M hooks. It was far from a masterpiece. But none the less it was kind of cool and it helped decorate our otherwise drab living room. I later noticed that every time I went home for the weekend, or was in class for a while, my art kept miraculously falling and landing on the shelf under the television.
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