Well of course I could tell you about the
dark colors and monochrome life. It was a stifling office job, tiny cubicle,
nine to five and sore butt from sitting.
Stagnant mindpool and climbing the walls out of boredom. I could tell you this but it would be a lie.
And then I'd tell you about loosening up, getting a new job, about being entertained and stimulated and having more leisure time. I could tell you this but it would be an even bigger lie.
As though my wardrobe were a conscious decision. (No). As though blue and grey are dying colors. (No). It's lots simpler than you might think. Can you say Winter with me? Can you say Lazy or Fashion Rut or Uncomplicated or better yet, Safe Routine? Any of those would be more accurate.
Now let me show you a negative. White where the darks should be and dark where the light is. Yes? Does this make sense? (even if it doesn't, it is my truth.)
Listen, I am content with my blacks and no colors. It is easy to deal with me when I am settled like that, when it is all specified and filled in and set. What would I do with a white plate? What would I do with a new canvas? My stars would suddenly say Warning: Splinters off into a thousand directions. My mind suddenly says What will I do with any of this life. White is a dangerous color.
(Becca used to have a hot pink umbrelly. To put some difference into the greyness, she said. I think more to give her a starting point for crazy. She always confused her greys with white.)