I had decided not to kiss a random just because of tradition (or my inclination when I’m drunk and dancing). I want the first person I kiss in 2018 to be someone meaningful, someone I enjoy, someone I love or want to love. (Then I thought, what are you? A Puritan? If someone cute and anonymous wants to kiss you, kiss! Kissing’s fun!)
In other words, I was playing it by ear. So much so that the friend I was meeting to go with to an all-nighter ended up throwing a spontaneous party that was in full swing by the time I arrived – in full costume, alone – and we stayed in. It was awesome.
And I met a boy! He’s cute, tall, bearded, with blue eyes and brown hair (my fave). And… full-spectrum color blindness. I’m writing about him now because for 2 days I’ve been imagining life without color, and I can’t bear it!
I don’t feel sorry for him. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. He can decipher color. It just doesn’t have any value to him. It’s not an identifier. It isn’t anything.
Color is everything to me! I’m sitting here at work, coloring!
Years ago – a decade or more – my bestie Kim said, “You describe the world in color. You should paint.” I thought she meant canvas and images that have to conform to some sort of something-beyond-remedial, and my mind said, “I can’t.” That “no” closed the door to trying, which has, so far, been the theme to much of my life. Little did I know that I would paint one day!
My goodness, my life is a freebie in so many ways. It really is incredible. I wouldn’t have thought to try… anything… if Marko hadn’t been there for 10 years, waiting patiently for me to find my way in his studio, and ready to supply me with cost-free, risk-free inventory! With fun and a friend attached, no less. I’m really lucky.
My drums! This man will never understand the high I get making my drums. Since I started painting last year, I’ve developed an emotional relationship with color.
My hair! He can never love my beautiful hair! Not even kidding, my heart is breaking a little inside. It’s silly. In 5 years max, I won’t even be a redhead anymore. It’s getting to be such a hassle to henna as much as I have to now, I was considering letting it go for my birthday this year – a nice, solid 45 – but I can’t do it. I love my hair!
And he can’t. He can’t see it! He can tell I’m a redhead, but it means nothing to him. That’s a tough one for me. The easiest way to make me feel adored is to go weak in the knees over my pretty red hair (and to tell me about it again and again).
I remember in the 90s, my first friend with color blindness tried to explain how he can tell I’m a redhead, so I didn’t really press this fellow much. I already know I can’t be made to understand. It’s not the freckles. It’s a spectrum on the gray scale of black and white, and I don’t get it. (There is color, too, but without the impact.)
My suitor’s response to “What’s it like to be color blind?” was “What’s it like not to be?”
AMAZING! That’s what!
My favorite color is Deciduous Leaves In The Late Afternoon Sun, not to be confused with your run-of-the-mill grass green, which I usually have to settle for (and also love, of course), for… my wallet, planner, dishware, decorative pillows, you name it. I mean, you’ve seen my bed. COLOR! So thrive my soul!
It’s not a deal breaker, but it challenges me. That’s the hit to my vanity (which, if I didn’t drive the point home, is stretching me. Is that something I need?). Beyond that, though, it really is curious to consider how such a trivial-seeming thing might precipitate various, small inabilities to relate. I talk about color a lot.
Remember this vision board I made for the New Year a couple of years ago? (Quiet, in terms of color.) There’s the beardy I was dreaming of then. (I’m a pogonophile.) I’m excited about this guy. I don’t feel that as often or as easily as I used to. I didn’t have it with Jax. He was just a convenience I’m ashamed of now. (Men and women can’t be roommates without having sex? How pedestrian. You know how I love superiority.)
Here’s my vision board from the year before: COLOR!
I think I’ll do those again. They’re fun. It’s a throw-back to scrapbooking days and it’s cool to see how much of it I accomplish over the course of the following year/years.
Happy New Year!