Colors
"All I'm trying to do is to create a drawing of my own."
--
3.00 a.m: I'm wide awake.
I was laying on my bed, eyes shut, and yet, I was wide awake. I thought to myself, "Well, once in a blue moon I can be this awake in this very holy hour". So it's rare of me to have such sleeplessness. We ought to treasure what is rare, ought we not?
I opened my eyes, just to see the ceiling. The ceiling in my room was all white, not a single noctilucent stars, or any wind chimes for decors, just white. I liked the white color. It's the symbol of purity, and innocence, isn't it? That being said though, I liked all colors. It's not because all colors are alike, but more like I couldn't choose which color is better than the others.
White is pure and minimalistic. If I were to gift you a little white Aster amellus, it means I want to say you are pure and innocent, and brave and adorable. The banquet carries the morning mist to our senses, it's charming, evergreen, and lively, and so is my appreciation for you.
Yellow is the symbol of joy, optimism, and hope, like a sunflower. Giving you a sunflower, I want to say thank you, and that I'll be with you, trust you, and treasure every moment I'm with you. You have my unending attention.
Red. Color of passion, power, and desire. I'm giving you a red rose, I want you to be mine. And I want to say, that... "I love you", a universal language.
Blue. A color of peace, calm, and intelligence. Look at the sky, there you'll find some strange calmness budding in your heart. An iris is like the rainbow, which connects the Earth and the high sky, an emblem of hope and faith.
Green is different, green is like a tree. People don't usually notice a tree, it's bright, yet an indie type of "guy" in the color palette.
Purple is a woman of culture, loyalty, spirituality, and nobility. She can be mysterious at times, and subtly arrogant at other times. Like a field of lavender with grace and elegance.
And black. As minimalistic as white can be, as trustworthy as yellow, but roaring like red yet tranquil like blue, an indie but so much more of an egotistic guy than purple. All in one. There, you find your calm mind, at the same time explore your deepest monsters. At times, you are filled with power and confidence, but you find your emptiness once in a while. In the long night, you know you are there, but you don't really, physically exist, 'cause you alone hold no values.
I wasn't an artist to have a say, though I like to observe. Bird-watching, people-watching, traffic-watching were all my things. There's no big reason behind it, I find the world a mystery, so many divergent things are unknown, and yet I wasn't scared. If I have a choice, I would choose to fill my eyes with different colors.
I sat up on my bed and tried to reach the heavy curtain. The sky dyed my room in red, lighted up my dark as ink room, like pouring a cup of red wine everywhere. I glared out the window, wondered who was still out there, working, or had already woken up and preparing for their new days. However, in this neighborhood, there were no cars, no people, as any other days. The same lawn, the same tall trees in front of my house were shaking in the rain, and only then I noticed the rain was getting heavier, that I could even hear the sound of the rain clapping to my window. The scenery out there was hostile and it kept getting somehow... sadder. Or it was me who started feeling blue. Was I just drunk with this red wine?
I tried to sleep again, this time, I took my phone and put some calming piano sound right on the desk, and drew my curtain. I didn't understand music that much, meaning to say, I didn't enjoy listening to music so much, I wasn't good at conveying meaning from a song with lyrics, and the only thing left for me is no-lyrics music, just classical Mozart or Chaplin, or whatever composers, because I could freely express whatever I wanted to.
I stared at the empty darkness in my room, remembered when I was smaller, I liked singing. I could sing all day long with Tiny, the fish, who was my little pet companion, and I even asked my parents to let me learn piano. It didn't work out well, that piano teacher told me I had no talents for music and I kept forgetting the class schedule. So I quitted in a month. My parents were oblivious, they said as long as I kept trying, failing was a bearable part. I don't think they have changed that ideal since then. I tried doing a lot of things people considered fun. However, during high school, I wasn't particularly good at anything I tried, volleyball, football, skating, reading, part-time job, movies, and Korean K-pop stuff, it seemed like I had failed to find what I had been born for. Not that it's a depressing matter, it's something I was used to, and willing to give it another shot. Sometimes, when I thought back and asked myself whether it's the question of talent or the short span of my concentration. I never once tried them for more than 2 weeks.
Nonetheless, at 3 a.m, laying on my bed, wide awake, it felt strange not knowing what to do. What do people usually do in this situation? There must be countless people out there, having a sleepless night. I had no clue. And I left my thought slip away.
What is he doing?
Oh.
It's none of my business.
Right there, stop. Stop. Crap.
I felt bad. Such a disaster, weren't' I? I had nothing to think about, but him. Sometimes I came to believe that I hypnotized myself into the idea of falling in love with that runaway jerk. What could I possibly do? I was becoming such boring trash who didn't have a clue about herself, weren't I? I had known for a long long time that love drains my energy, it exhausts me when I think of it.
I was frustrated because of my own thought. And I was even more frustrated that I was not "that" frustrated. Messed up. It's not like not being able to see him would make me sad, rather it's like the unsettling feeling toward an unfinished matter. I didn't confess to him obviously. It's like when you color a painting. You don't usually need all seven colors of the rainbow, at times, you only want one or two color pencils to finish a painting. There shouldn't be any problem with using more or fewer colors. If it's how you want it to be, it is the most "you" painting.
I looked at my desk and started to feel my fingers craving for making something.
I lit the small lamp and started to draw. I started first with a table, then the elephant, then my own toes, then snail, then a leaf, fish, a hill, lamp post, a tent, trees, stars. The pencil fitted in my palm perfectly. I sketched fast and used another darker pencil for the shades. As I went on, I realized the combination was good. Except for the toes and nails thing. I wanted to erase the toes, but then I thought about it again. The toes were outside the tent a little bit, and there was the starry sky. Maybe it's a good time to star-watching after all. So I erased the nails only.
How could there be an elephant there at the corner? It wasn't a logical location for such a huge animal. I added a fireplace near the tent with the fish nearby and fixed the fish so they looked cooked and smelled nice. I added some grass on the ground. I make the lamp post a bit less extravagant, and then draw more leaves on the trees.
The drawing looked completely horrible, however, it's soothing. I looked out the window where the rain was roaring outside. I was curious how being drunk felt like. So I drew several cans of beer outside the tent. I knew I didn't make much sense but, I wish I could try a beer right now, trying being drunk.
Wouldn't it be a pretty fun camping night?
I just looked in the corner of my room and saw the basketball ball.
Then I drew the ball on the paper as well. The ball fitted in nicely.
Now, this was real good.
My phone vibrated.
"You have received an email."
I wondered whether this email was worth the time. I decided that I would read it later in the morning. It's not likely that someone just emailed me, asking me if I had dinner. Emails weren't urgent. Satisfied with the drawing, I turned off the lamp and returned to bed. Once again, I tried to sleep. The sound of the rain just became a little bit louder.
It's strange, trying to sleep. When I thought about it, I realized I had never tried to sleep, ever. All I had been doing my entire existence was laying on my bed, with a blanket and then I snored like a dead pig. I thought to myself, days like this deserved some more uniqueness, deserved a beer, for example.
I once read from a book, about what the purpose of life is. "Three meals a day, eight hours of sleep, get some sunlight, when getting old, eyes are still good, no beer belly..."
I wanted something like that too. I doubted this purpose is very universal because most of the people I know strive for their future. I also tried to achieve something every once in awhile, though I wouldn't say I gave it my best each day. At least at this moment, I wasn't trying to have 8 hours of sleep, knowing that tomorrow I might have a hard day in practice, or in class. And I wanted to try drinking beer. How could anyone expect not to have a beer belly when they wanted to drink beer? That's contradictory.
I thought about how yesterday went. I had a basketball match at the district court, for the first preliminary round for the City Basketball Tournament. And yes, I missed some shots, but the most obviously stupid ones were two mid-range shoots near the center and two 3-point range shoots. It wasn't nice. The sun was too harsh, I was sweating. The captain wasn't in her best form, and our Center was clearly off her game. Having to defend so much in the first set drained my energy. We did win in the end, and only at 9 p.m, we were allowed to leave, after the coach punished us by making us practice passing and shooting.
I played Small Forward position in the team, sometimes I felt like I was more of a Point Guard. Though I was good at defense, handling the ball, dribbling, passing, and quick on my feet, my shooting needed more practice, which sometimes nullified all the good points I just said. It was quite shameful to admit it, but the coach literally said I was "a little bit" too normal, to be a Point Guard. I didn't know whether I should feel fluttered for being a normal "bean" on the court.
Why did I keep playing basketball even after high school?
I didn't really have an answer.
If you really put a knife on my neck and ask why, I would say "Force of habit" maybe.
I had been playing basketball since my last year of junior high school. In senior high school, I played the Point Guard position for the team. I remembered our team was strong, everyone counted on me a lot. We were the best of 8 in the city high school tournament. No matter what the reason was, I'm glad I continued playing it.
Did I enjoy it?
Hmm, difficult to answer. I didn't know about others. I just wanted to play against strong opponents, it felt the best. In order for that to happen, I had to become very good, right? So I devoted my time.
Basketball to me wasn't like solving Maths. Both felt good when doing, however, in basketball, there are moments that truly lift me up the sky, the fun part of basketball, and you get to share the fun with the whole team. Basketball, in a way, I found it different from football, volleyball or other sports I tried.
Being 160cm, playing basketball, always sweating, hair always messing, smells bad, and for the majority of the time, in sports clothes, which replace my feminine appeal into a boy's attractiveness. I wondered whether it's how others think of me because it sounded especially horrible. I laughed at my own thought, as if I would bother?!
However, doing practice, going to classes, then heading home got a bit stuffy sometimes, like repetitive.
"You have received a message"
My phone vibrated again. This time, I checked the message, since message must be more urgent than emails.
"Yoo Muni, remember we'll have practice at 6"
It was from May, who played Center position in the basketball team. I wasn't a smidge surprised that she was still up at this holy hour, that's how a Computer Science student is programmed, she explained to me once when I came to her house, waking her up to go to practice. She always pulled an all-nighter playing game.
My phone vibrated once more and another message came.
"Yaata, goodnight Muni, pass by my house and we'll go together, okay? Rooster will make us breakfast!"
"Oh, and also, why you never answer Facebook message, nor mail -__-"
"Anyway, goodnight :)"
Eh... Why didn't she have her boyfriend waking her up? They literally lived under the same roof. I always felt like an extra side dish (which no one ever eats!) in the presence of them both whenever I came there. It's not like I fitted in in any social situations, rather the opposite. Rooster and May were just the weird but cute basketball couple. I admired them. Their cuteness was lethal, haha. If pink is the color of love, their love must be pink to the root of the teeth, from top to bottom, from tip to toe.
I texted her back with a yes and said goodnight to her. I played the thought in my head again, made sure to remember when going to university tomorrow.
I finally fell asleep when I listened to the gentle sound of my mom waking up early and preparing breakfast for us.
My life had been repetitive. It didn't feel boring though. I didn't have the love of my high school days, missed him sometimes, mom's food was the best, the world is moving, so I just continued my drawing.
Drawer: Muni or Hang. 20 years old. Major in Physics. Sucked in most of the things including drawing and confessing to crush, liked basketball.
--
"As if dropping a few colors is going to ruin the drawing? Tell me a better joke!"
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co