My eyes are brown. Not an amethyst-brown that intertwines with hazel swirls, or
looms upon a sea of oranges and yellows. Within each encircled iris, small blue spheres
are unable to be found amidst every stripe of non-existent green. They don’t turn into
sapphire crystals of blue when I cry, or mountain valley greens when I get angry. They’re
simply brown. But, how could this be? My life is far from colorless; whether it is the
color-coding obsession that seemingly awakens each time I open my closet, or the
overbearing variety of colors within my mood-dependent collection of writing utensils.
Silhouettes of primary, secondary and tertiary pastels compliment one another upon the
once whitened paper of my experiences; a box of Crayola crayons merely a gateway to
describe who I am. Sunglow, tickle me pink and un-mellow yellows are just a few colors
that may be used to illustrate my personality; however, it is each color that represents
something of great significance to my life.
Atomic Tangerine. Atomic is the relation or use of atomic energy and or weapons,
as in war. My brother Joe, a recent inductee of the United States Air Force, was deployed
to Iraq for nine months about a year ago. During his deployment, he frequently emailed
pictures of his aliened environment, one of which will remain in my mind forever. A
tangerine, or pungent reddish orange, background reverberated off the page of one
particular image. Among the orange sky, several helicopters soared along the horizon,
below them, several soldiers patiently awaited to return home. The enclosed picture was a
breath-taking sunrise in Iraq. The image remained framed upon the color-less portion of
my paper, until my brother, a hero, safely returned home.
Pink Flamingo. Pink is a lighter shade of red, but, coincidentally, there may be
thousands of other shades, tones and varieties within it. Variety is imperative to life, and
goes hand-in-hand with independence. To follow the pathway of others is merely a waste,
and I choose to take the path that is less traveled. Why be like others when you can be
like yourself? I am a shade of pink that was once frazzled, until I realized flamingo pink,
and not wild strawberry, was the color for me.
Screamin’ Green. The majority of my friends have come to a consensus that I am
the loudest person out there. I love to show my school spirit, especially in sports. Green is
one of the colors of my high school and is worn by my school mascot: the dolphin.
Wild Blue Yonder. I find snow fascinating; each crystalline pattern swiftly falling
from the icy blue sky is different from any other. Although the substance itself may be
freezing (a characteristic of substances I do not particularly like) it represents wonder and
awe in ways that are hard to comprehend. It is ironic that such fascinations can only be
witnessed during times of cold, and I always surround myself with warmth.
Dandelion Yellow. As a child, I skipped through my front yard on the first day of
spring, grabbing every dandelion that was within reach. When I was done, I walked over
to the pile at edge of the lawn and made my last additions. Exhausted after running
around, I sat down and made a wish with each one, but my small lungs held breaths that
barely blew off half of the seeds. Needless to say, they grew back the next year,
providing me with a sense of hope for all my new wishes, the yellow flowers merely a
reminder for future dreams and desires.
Essentially, I could reach my hand into a box of crayola crayons and pull out one
color at a time. Each color, coincidentally, has had some type of influence on my life or
describes a certain asset of my personality. Life, without color, would simply be black or
white. My eyes may be plain brown; I am, however, a vivid variety of colors. Just pick a
color, any color.