Recently Adjacent

RA 12: First E-ncounter (Tech-nically)

*The title has nothing to do with the internet or technology. I just thought I'd be an interesting title*

September 25, 1998.

"V"

That was the title of the painting right before my eyes, staring straight at me (not literally of course).

It was old, it was maroon, and it featured my least favorite letter in the alphabet - V.

Right next to it was an identical painting of the letter V called "The V".

It was the same neat, spongy mess, but the colors were gray (for the actual letter) and black (for the background).

I'm mad that I'm enjoying a piece of "work" that costs 70 bagillion dollars for something that is so bleak and bland. The artist probably didn't spend 2 minutes on this thing.

There are families out there that work altogether day in and day out to only be able to afford the bare minimum, and this is what takes the spotlight.

Maybe the artist did take 2 seconds for these, but that doesn't mean that thought wasn't put into this.

I mean, two colors and an uncreative design has people thinking do deeply.

Maybe I am most jealous of the fact that I can't do that. I've tried, but I only ever get the blandness, not the thought behind-

SHH-ZZZZ!

That was a terrible onomatopoeia for what is supposed to sound like a glass falling and then shattering.

I whip my head a few inches to the right, bringing my locks with me to see the one and only Henry grab Winston's arm really fast and then grip on it hard before laughing so hard his eyes become invisible.

On the floor before them is a plastic-y container which I'm guessing stored the dozens of wooden beads now scattered across the tile floor.

I glance back at the two boys to find them both slightly laughing.

Henry was the only boy in our grade actually willing to come to this museum. Winston was just one of his friends that agreed to keep him company.

We were all supposed to stay in one giant, silent group with our 5 chaperones and marvel over the paintings that way, but a few of us kids wanted to go at our own pace, aka not follow directions, and I was one of those kids.

Everyone was quiet except for those two snickering, bead-dropping buffoons, and they were trying to ruin this experience for the rest of us. It's not everyday we get to skip an entire day of rotting in school and gawk at meaningless collages of color and randomly shaped objects.

Everyone already thinks us Generation Y kids are stuck on stupid, obnoxious, and loud.

"You two!" Mr. Zimmerman, the Trigonometry teacher yelled at the two. Their faces automatically stilled.

He stalked on over to them from across the room with the mass of children huddled together quietly.

"Pick this stuff up. You are embarrassing us," he whispers desperately. "Now!" He finally yells.