Improbability Drive

First, it appears I owe the blogosphere in general and, more specifically, my friends and family an apology. I think I gave some people the wrong impression with my last post. If it were the only thing you read on this blog, you might get the idea that I am an angry, self-absorbed human being who focuses on petty things even though he knows they are petty. This is generally not the case. Except, apparently, when I wrote “Anticlimax.” I won’t say that I regret writing it because it was a very useful and cathartic experience that helped me work through some issues I had been having with the whole graduation business. And I do think there is something valuable about exposing your thought process to the world on occasion, in the spirit of truth and understanding. Thank you for all of the messages of encouragement and admiration that, by their nature, attacked the thesis of under-appreciation in “Anticlimax.” I just want to say, most respectfully, that I wasn’t fishing for compliments (as it may have seemed).

On to new business. The organ recital went pretty well. Thanks to so many for coming out to listen. This concert will be released as my long-awaited second album, to be titled JoelTed. Please contact me if you wish to receive a copy. As far as price is concerned, I’m thinking it’ll be a free-will-offering deal.

And now, on to what I would say is actually the subject of this post. (Yes, I could have broken off the first few paragraphs into a separate post, but that would not preserve my rambling style of thought.) My improbable aptitude in sweepstakes/drawings continues. This tale begins with my departure from an organ practice room towards the beginning of the month. I was just aching for an excuse not to study for my Plant and Environmental Safety test when a flyer for the Spencer Art Museum student night caught my eye. Ice cream, prizes, KJHK DJs, art—what more excuse did I need?

So I walked over to Spencer, ate ice cream, listened to KJHK, looked at the textile exhibits, talked to Bryan Park, then noticed that they were giving away art-themed Transformers parody t-shirts.
“Can I have one?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s the last one left.”
“All right! Hey, I guess I should probably write my name on these slips of paper to enter the drawings, right?”

My new shirt in hand, I looked at more textiles, then floated back to the prize table when the drawings started. Several CDs were dispensed, some candle set; many names were called, but few actually had remained for this phase of the evening. And, of course, you had to be present to win. The last prizes were five paintings by local artist Steve Keene, created at a live painting session in the Union a few weeks before. Many more names were called, and four people stepped forward to claim paintings, leaving only one painting.

I will never understand why people have such a hard time pronouncing my last name. You say it like it is spelled, folks. No, not “Abramson;” see, that’s spelled differently. Mine is spelled “Abrahamson.” Abraham. Son. Nevertheless, the Drawer of Prizes stumbled when announcing that I had won the last painting, so I just sort of cut him off as I stepped forward to accept my prize, exclaiming, “Abrahamson! Yes, I am here.”

Now, when you think of paintings, you probably think of nice little pieces, certainly no more than a meter on each side, easy to hang on any wall desired. That’s what I thought I was getting too.

Needless, to say, I underestimated a bit. This is more like one meter by two meters. It’s actually painted on an old door; you can see the holes where hinges were attached upon close inspection. Immediately I was captured by the vibrant colors, and yes, the incredible size. It is an imposing work.

The downside of large paintings is that they are very difficult to move from the Spencer Museum of Art to one’s residence. Clearly, the painting was too large for me to carry alone, so I summoned the aid of my friend Dana the Viking Physics Major. (Well, he doesn’t have a beard, and he’s added an environmental thing as well, but stick with me. The point is DVPM can lift heavy things.) We would return to Spencer one morning to recover the painting, it was decided. And yes, it might have been easier to simply put the painting in a truck or station wagon and go, but not nearly as funny as carrying a giant painting through campus.

DVPM was going to wear a shirt with “International Art Thief” emblazoned on it, but unfortunately, he woke up too late to apply the requisite marker to the requisite white t-shirt. Thus, we were wearing normal clothes when the journey began. Sure enough, we received our fair share of bewildered looks. One man even commented, “This is an action-adventure movie waiting to happen.” Before long, the painting was set up in my living room.

The other downside of large paintings is that they are well nigh impossible to transport across the country when one is moving off to grad school and one does not wish to rent a U-Haul-class vehicle. This difficulty is only enhanced when one must first move back to North Dakota for the summer, with only the space in one’s parents’ minivan and one’s Prius to transport cargo. So it seems I will have to give away the painting (at least temporarily). I have selected Dana the Viking Physics Major and Rugby Player to be its guardian, since he was so good as to assist me in its recovery.

Epilogue: The day after Spencer Art Museum student night, I got my hair cut, wrote my name on another slip of paper, and scored a 95% on my test. Then the following week I received a phone call to tell me that I had won a two-week membership to the Lawrence Athletic Club.