roomates - 1st year - sound & silence - pt 2 of 4

So continues the madness.

Now artsy-wino was a good kid in comparison but far from perfect. Not the best nickname, but I haven't seen a lot of classy drunks in college like that. I was sad to see him go when he moved out after first term because he kept Emo-boy quiet-er. Well almost sad.

He drove me nuts watching American Idol, MTV Cribs and Languna Beach, three shows I thought I'd never hear the end of the way he idolized the Cali-life-style. His artsy political rants and self-pity that his work wasn't good enough yet didn't help either.

I asked how anyone could not be shot for being so tone-deaf and ruining classic songs and Artsy-wino said to back off because they worked hard to get there. It'd be easier if they hadn't started singing....

How could teens live off their parents like credit-cards would burn a hole in the pocket? Who could be so shallow down in Long Beach when their neighbours were dying of over-doses or working triple-shifts to support their families? Artsy-wino said the perfectly tanned teens weren't perfect either, they had relationship problems and troubles in school with drugs and alcohol.

'You don't know what it's like to have those kind of troubles or have a tortured artist's soul.' He was a pretty talented artist too so I didn't get it.

He was half-right but I was a peer-drug counselor after high-school so I told him a few stories to shut him up about teens worse off. Plus I've lots of artists who don't have thumb-screws embedded but he was still finding his artist style which is brutally hard to be original.

Yet talking about crack-users' relationships caused him to blow up like a screa-mo 'singer'. This was normal - he yelled at his artwork, politicians on TV, and Emo-boy - but this was worse. He had gotten straight after been into the XTC and speed at the clubs, but the crack was the worst he had ever seen go down. He was 20 years old barely and dealing with that already for years? Had a bit more sympathy for him but other than artistic passions which we debated over wine and cheese, we didn't have much in common.

Not much in common with artsy-wino, other than his sweet little girlfriend who used to wander in. If he wasn't home, I'd make her a cup of tea and she'd complain about Artsy-wino, her mother, and everything else that sucks when you're 20 years old. She was about the same age as my sister so it was pretty easy to listen and offer advice or a hug.

Arsty-wino was surprisingly okay with this as he was really possessive about her otherwise, but didn't have time to listen all the time when his brutally mark-heavy portfolio was due and she understood this. People who put up with artists are incredible for many reasons, especially when said artist breaks down. So it was hard on her at times when he was being mopey. 

Don't think he could keep ranting or moping with her around. When his patient gal was pretty cute about jumping on Artsy-wino's bed if he took too long to finish his work or dance a sock-hop up with us. As couples go, she was ying for his yang and they were pretty balanced fun. We had fun mocking American Idol wanna-bes and talking about philosophical and political subjects. 

Which is more than I talked about with my third roomate, Silence as I never saw him. I think since he might well have been closet gay, he never chose to hang out around where my other two roomates yelled homo at each other and all other kinds of gay insults. It was messy, but I felt bad for the kid to have to put up with so much screaming.

He'd come out swearing and throw stuff if he got mad enough once or twice, but not often. I'd let him just rip into my shocked other two roomates because it was good for some stress to defuse. He stormed out a lot with friends who looked after him better.

Playing my happy ska and reggae full-blast lessened the stress and defused the hate, but I never got to really know the kid, stop my roomates from yelling homo, so it was a bad scene. Most of the time we forgot Silence was there and would pound on the door once a week to make sure he wasn't dead we saw him so rarely.

With so much stress, I started to think God had sent me to look after them. All I had to do was keep the peace, keep place tidy enough and tempers wouldn't flare for too long. I thought after Christmas it would get a bit easier with a new roomate moving in. Was I wrong?

To be continued....


p.s. How did I survive? Laundry night helped... when my room-mates were getting too loud as the weekend started, I'd go down with a few loads of dirty clothes and straighten out my articles and notes. Even studied in the laundry room and met cool people there too.