When you were little, I bet you had that one color that your mom would dress you in all the time, either because you wore hand-me-downs and red was your brother's favorite, or your mom decided HER little girl was going to be the one wearing the green dress on Easter, as opposed to all the little girls in floral.
I don't think I really had that. I wore a mismatch of clothing. There's a picture of me wearing a god-awful sweater (A lovely striped number in magenta, yellow, and bright blue) over a white turtleneck, and my hair is short and I look like a boy. A pitiful, un-stylish boy.
But the color I loved as a kid (And only sometimes admitted to liking) was always pink.
Most of my friends liked blue. They were rebellious. They were cool.
I liked pink.
But I stayed quiet, I learned to love blue as well, and now when I think back on my favorite colors as a kid (Ranging from peach to peeled-grape green to even clear) I realize that pink was always a second or third place.
Not a gaudy pink. Not a pink that stands up, gets in your face, pops a pink bubble and then sashays away in a flurry of sequins. More like a ballet slipper pink. The new blush of a baby. That sort of pink.
And since I'm feeling sort of nostalgic today and in awe of the fact that I'll be sixteen in a few days, I've decided that light pink is today's color. Monday's anthem-well this Monday at least-is the color worn by baby girls across the nation.
Yesterday I went to the college fair at a coliseum. There were over 700 colleges there, and thousands upon thousands of students and their parents. Not a very good place for a claustrophobic. Luckily I'm not one. I did feel a little uncomfortable as I was sloshed around by waves of people, smacked by plastic bags filled with brochures, and transformed into a common grocery store item as each college booth scanned my "Bar code" to attain my information. It was so OVERWHELMING. Not just in the sense that "Oh my goodness, I am actually going away to college in a year or so. This is a little weird!" But also in the sense of "Did that guy mean to punch me in the rib cage, or was he shoved by the woman in the track suit?" It was kind of funny (and weird) when my mother and I stopped by a California school's booth. "Oh no!" my mom cried. "You are not going to school in California!" I laughed and grabbed a pamphlet. (I felt sorry for the guy behind the table-he looked lonely) The thing is, we hadn't MEANT to stop by that booth. I had #716 highlighted because it was marked for creative writing, although we had been only looking at New England schools. Maybe it was fate!...or a mistake on my part.
Today in chorus, my teacher handed out the first page to a piece we might be learning, and I almost started crying and laughing and hugging anybody who was near me. It was Billy Joel's And So it Goes, which my choir from two years ago had sung at a competition. Not gonna lie, there's a cupboard full of memories piled up like cereal boxed behind that song. And when she started teaching it to us, I looked around the room to see the faces of other kids who had been in my old choir, wistful and giddy to be singing something that felt like an old friend. A bit awkward, though, was the moment in which I realized I would be singing the soprano part to this song. (I used to be an Alto) I think it will be an interesting experience, though. It's an old song, but a new part. And I can't wait to learn it.
On a very different note (Not to be punny) if one day I become a celebrity, and am faced with the task of naming my children bizarre and bewildering names, I had pulled a few obscure ones from the internet and various books and I've decided. Marlin, Alaska, and Kismet shall be my celebrity children. You know, if that ever happens. If not, I can always name my dogs/fish/various other pets those wonderful little names.
Now it's time to get back to reality, or face the music, shall we say, and bid adieu to this lovely bit of prose in order to jump into my history assignment. I must read Thomas Paine's Common Sense. I hear it's a good read. I'm excited.
To make it a little more interesting, though, I'm going to look at it with a wary eye. Pretend I'm a loyalist and this pamphlet is supposed to tear me away from my homeland. I think that's how my history teacher wants us to look at it. I'm not sure, though. The man practically talks in solely riddles and rhetorical questions.
So long, fare well, *German/Austrian word I do not know* adieu!
~Katelyn
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