Let's talk about me and you. We are entirely two different people, yet we get along fantastically. We make each other laugh ridiculously; we play off each other, and we enjoy a lot of the same things. We get each other. We even argue with one another rather well. I really like yelling at you, and seeing what crazy defensive comment you will throw my way. You quite often get even more mad when I laugh at you during our arguments, and you will ask me" why?" To which I will never reply, "Well clearly I know what I am talking about, clearly I am right about the shit that I am saying you do wrong, and well you! you don't have anything on me, I don't do anything wrong,( in which there is not a reasonable explanation for my errors!)" I usually tell him that I am laughing because I am nervous, and that seems to work ok. When he asks why I am nervous, I tell him that I don't like us arguing and not getting along and that seems to work pretty well too.
And so where am I going with this, well really no where at all, except I would like to talk about pictures. I would like to further explore into the world of people who put up pictures in the first couple of days that they move into a new place, as this is a behavior I am far removed from. I once lived in the same apartment for 5 years, and in the 4th year, I finally put up pictures. I did quite a fantastic job of it too. I cut up pictures from calenders and magazines and matched them up, and bought picture frames and put together several lovely framed pictures of 3 and created a warm autumn theme to my place. A year later I moved out, and have lived in 3 places since then and I have never put the pictures back up. My pictures spend far more time in the back of closets then they do upon the wall. I have been in my new place for a few months, and yesterday I hung up a small calender on the wall, after all it is the start of a new year, and it's reasonable to think that one ought to at least have a calender hanging up somewhere. I am pretty sure this hanging calender will be the only entertainment that my walls will experience in giving them life for at least the next years time. I am also almost certain, that January will exist for half the year, and then perhaps July will hold up for the remainder of the year. (And I am not particularly fond of deer).
And so let's talk about him; my other half. We have been together for a little over two years, and he has lived in three different places. When I first met him, I was quite impressed by the very nice tasteful artwork upon his walls. He had excellent taste and had spent some money on the pictures that hung on his walls. And then we moved in together for a short while, and the first thing he did on the very night we moved in was to hang pictures on the walls. They were measured and looked over, adjusted and rearranged, and at the end of the night, all the pictures were hung with a nice mix of my pictures and his. I was impressed, but yet in awe of someone who would find it necessary to hang pictures right away. What on earth does one person possess inside themselves to desire to put up pictures right away on the vast empty white walls? What does this say about him and perhaps his dislike for silence? His TV is always on, and mine is never on. I sit in silence at my place all the time, and rather like working with people and not saying a word. I am very comfortable with silence. I barely notice empty walls. He is always with noise; even while he sleeps.
Well one night while we were living together we got into a bit of a silly argument and I was at work for the night and he was home alone with the house centipedes. He was a little bit stupid with slight intoxication, and I was perfectly sober and of sound mind to tell him about how he was wrong about something. Well he went about his silly "well you do this," one liner's, and by the end of the night, he told me he was done, and he would be moving out tomorrow. I said, "ok;" we said a pleasant Good Night, and I finished working my overnight shift. Well I came home around 8am, to find that bags were not packed, clothes and bathroom items had not been gathered together in a corner; however the walls were empty, white and boldly staring at me with accusation of my part of stripping them bare. And there by the door were his pictures, and mine were neatly stacked in their own pile off to the side. It did result in a much more powerful reaction out of me, as suddenly the place that had never had empty walls from day one, seemed quite cold and unwelcoming. It had much greater affect on me then should a bag have been neatly packed by the door. It gave a much better picture of the emptiness the place would hold, should I exist in that place without him from that day forward. Had it been me, as it sometime was I merely packed a small overnight bag, and left without hesitation with intentions of making arrangements the next day to move out the rest of my belongings.
And so it goes that as the day continued on we talked as we always do, and we hugged it out, and went and got lunch together, and he went to work, and I went to bed. The next morning after my shift I came home to find all the pictures back up on the wall. And things were good, and the welcome of our home that only he could provide with his care in hanging up pictures was restored. And this is just one small reason why I think we are meant to me. Where I fail, he impresses; and where he fails, I impress. We are a puzzle that has been in the works for many years to finally come together and make a amazing picture. We create a picture that is a 1,000 little pictures of our past experiences of our hurts, of our connections and disconnections with friends and family over the years, of our accomplishments and failures, a 1,000 plus pictures coming together to create one whole beautiful picture. And this my friend is a blog about me and you, and about those who put up pictures, and those who do not. This is my picture to you, my colorful art (whether you find it tasteful or not) hung upon your wall for the day.
Who's picture will add to your picture today?