I've always loved the color white, and I thought I was weird. When I took classes on color theory and psychology, I found out that it's actually not that weird at all. The reason I like the color white is because it calms me. I always seem to have a bajillion thoughts going on in my head at once. As soon as one thought comes in, my entire being focuses on that one thing and picks it apart, analyzing it until there's nothing left and I forget where I am and what I'm doing.
I become so engulfed in that one thing that I forget what time it is or that I need to eat. It feels a little like being swallowed. White doesn't do that. No, white is calm and pure. White -- the color of angel wings. That's why I love snow. It doesn't overwhelm me or hurt me. It's perfectly balanced.
Although, thinking back as a kid, I remember when I hated the color white, I thought it was boring. Our house was completely white and barren of any artwork or color. It's almost like a metaphor for being a kid. You haven't really experienced life all that much, you don't know what it feels like to love someone so deeply or feel gut wrenching heartbreak. At least, I'm hoping no kid feels those things. No, not yet. That's white to me. I experienced life and all those unpleasant feelings, and now I feel as if I took white for granted.
White is the color of a new born baby. It's the color of a brand new canvas and a blank sheet of paper waiting to be painted. Untainted and perfectly new. However, white is just the beginning. White is asking for color. It's looking for things to happen, emotions to feel. It's looking for stories to be written. So I think I'll write.
-Jordan
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