Painting Red

I want to paint but I only have red, and I don't really have anything to paint on.. so I guess I'll just blog instead :)

Another year, and another empty room with clear white walls. Another struggle to carry boxes of nothingness to the next empty room. And another reason to reflect on moments gone by. It's difficult not to refract back to my thoughts so I guess I should just give in once again...

It's funny how one's ideals are formed. Are you left or are you right. Is left right or is right wrong? What would be the most pleasing thing to say and how could I say the right thing so that I get to be a part of the gang. It's difficult when you speak another language and people look to your words to look at you and in the process you are lost to everyone but yourself.

But I guess one must put on a show for the time being... until the dialogue is unnecessary it seems. One must paint the walls to make this empty room feel like home, or make this home feel lived in or make this life feel full... so I put up pieces of paper that are pieces of people that are a part of my life. A stranger's glove from a familiar place and a random painting from a flee market, or a whimsical sketch from a schoolchild naivety of days gone by. But I know that a year from now, when I'm taking down those pieces once again, and I have white walls stare at me late in the night, I will feel this feeling again.

That bareness, it's so confusing. On one hand, I feel naked and alone, but on the other hand, I feel more conscious of my own self, and not the white noise of those hundreds of conversations and stories that build the characters covering the walls of my room. I enjoy the clarity for a while. Reminds me of Ikea brochures and empty canvases... so white, and square and straight. Clear, but not colorful.

So today I wonder on who I was, who I am and who I want to be. Do I want to be a wall filled with bumps and raises and splashes of blue red green yellow, or do I want to be an empty white walled room, no distractions, no confusion, just myself.