The tragic events of this weekend tell me that I was never meant to be a ravens fan.
This past week I devoted myself to finishing this ridiculous piece of art in time for the game on Sunday.
I even skipped work on Wednesday. They were cutting hours so I agreed to forgo my shift that day in hopes that I would sell enough prints to make up for the lost hours. I spend a majority of the day painting and tweaking it in photoshop to get it perfect.
On Friday I drove a half an hour just to get them printed in time and threw down $60. I truly became a ravens fan and could not wait to beat the Steelers. Game Day rolled around. I brought the prints to a tailgate outside the stadium in two sealed envelopes in a large paper bag along with my beloved Orioles prints and awaited the results.
We lost.
I still had every intention of selling the prints. I stood by a fire as I listened to fans in mourning. There were still 70,000 (?) people in that stadium and most of them hated the Steelers. I had 6 prints to sell so I didn't think it would be that difficult.
Then a tragedy occurred that upset me more than our loss.
I saw a bag I recognized in the fire.
Isn't that Makenna's bag someone yelled...
I saw my name go up in flames.
I watched as my hard work slowly burned to ash.
I watched $99 dollars and a potential profit of $195 disappear.
It was like watching your own child burn before your eyes.
And what do you do when you see a child burning?
You cry like a child.
I think I cried for two days.
It was so much more than the money, although this could have been what I need to be able to afford to buy soap and other basic hygiene necessities.
The only thing I can do is write about it. It is a good story at best. The tears have subsided. They are merely prints. They can be reproduced. Just not now because I have important things to buy like toilet paper. We are almost out. Until then, I will be punching holes in my wall with my fists.
Actually that is a lie. I want to get my security deposit back when I move out.
