I find I am drawn to things because of colors. When I describe things, I describe colors. I love describing in general.
The coffee table:
deliciously cherry brown lacquered with some foreign sap of an exotic tree, lined with cocoa brown swirls, adorned with the occasional ring from a long forgotten cup of coffee
Now, granted that may be the WORST description ever ( I didn't say I was good.) but I enjoyed doing it. That counts, right? Everything has a color. Even voices, personalities. Marissa, to me you are a carribean blue. You know that blue that isn't really blue, but this tango between the clearest green in the whole world and the deepest cerulean in the ocean. But minus the transparency. But at the same time, I see you tinged with a peach with blush pink run through. But your mind, is definitely carribean blue, flowy and beautiful and creative. I'm not sure why I do this. (See, in my mind you also have many colors).
When I said I wanted to be a journalist, I was really drawn to the color of the occupation. Black coffee spilling over a corrugated cardboard heat protector on a crummy paper cup, shiny chrome door handles, skyscraper stillettos, typewriters clacking (yes, clacking), and ink smears in an awkward indigo violet so dark and so easily tranferred. The color of this is blue grey. It just IS. DAMMIT. It makes sense to me. In my head...Like I said though, I should just not talk.
I could be a zookeeper. That color is chartreuse, embossed with some celadon tinted leaf designs.
My doctor said it's normal that I have colors for things. I haven't really shared that I have colors for things but he said it may help if I start. I have colors for everything, so whenever I mention things, I will probably mention their colors. So I'm very content coloring things in my world. But I have a name for what I am:
That makes me feel butter yellow, with a hint of jade.
It also explain why I love makeup so much.