I Love Purple
Random musings
I love purple and I always have and I have no idea why.
Before you launch into any theories or quote things you read online or heard about on some late night talk show, I will just remind you that I am not actually listening to you when you talk to yourself as you read this, unless you are my wife and I am standing just off to your right and smiling and looking at you, to see if you are also smiling or at least not crying. Her tears are like small pools that I long to dive head first into after ensuring that they are deep enough.
For a small appearance fee, I can come to your house, or coffee shop or hole in the ground (as long as it is not an actual hole in the ground as I just had these pants laundered and the prices are ridiculous. I could almost make my own pants for that price, but those pants would be illegal to wear in public) and watch you read this piece, but I will let the five of you know right now that I insist on real cheddar cheese on my crackers (which I assume will be offered at no extra charge) and if you are reading this and we haven’t already arranged for me to be by your side (and you are not already my wife — a position which is taken regardless of what 18th century dresses and matching shoes you are willing to purchase and/or wear) then it is too late.
I know all about those hairbrained theories and baseless online readings and moronic talk show spoutings and I love them with all of my heart (any percentages of heart listed in this article are both completely estimated and totally random, which also happens to be the working title of my unwritten autobiography which is still unwritten because “I haven’t done anything of note yet” and “I am just far too busy eating all of the peanut butter in the fridge one sandwich at a time” and “I can’t decide if it would be wrong to strongly insinuate that my biceps are bordering on intimidating”. I love purple and I don’t care what that means to you!
Yikes — that sounds a bit too confident sounding (is that what a love of purple does to a man? Or me?) — let me rephrase that — my feelings towards purple fall somewhere in the range of not-minding-if-I am-for-some- reason-forced-to-choose-purple and not only caring, but could be accused of caring too much (sort of like if you were a patient of mine at the hospital and even after curing you of your not-threatening-at-all-symptoms I decide to volunteer at your house trimming your manly mustache, and weeding your garden). I think what I am hearing is the wind at my back and, if I would enjoy hearing the wind at my front, all I have to do is do a pirouette or, for those of you confined to a world where we aren’t all ballerinas, just turn around.
What I am also hearing is that some of you either hate purple and are planning on writing a series of well-researched allegorical novels about that topic with you as the embattled hero whose brother is a genius confined to a wheelchair (and you think I have the problem?!?!?) or you are just jealous that I have found my colour.
I think we all long to find a colour to call our own; to love and to hold; to read bedtime stories to and to steal candy from; and to obsessively monopolize so no one else can ever think that it is also their colour. That is how you and I are not alike (aside from the great difference in dried fruit intake) — you wish to control your colour and I am willing to share purple with everyone and am leaving first thing tomorrow morning on a tour of speaking engagements at local colleges, used car dealerships and pillow factories about how to make purple work for you.
Here are a few highlights from my talk
Topic #1: Adding purple to your wardrobe makes you appear at least 15% more regal and at least 15% less likely to be caught robbing a bank (hint: now would be a perfect time to either join a royal family or rob a bank, either way really).
Topic #2: Carrying purple accessories makes you appear hip and fresh and now and that is exactly why your boss will not only promote you from mail clerk to special assistant to the boss (no one is entirely sure what that position entails aside from the need to be constantly sanitizing your hands) and she will also have join her at yoga classes “just in case”.
Topic #3: Why staring at yourself in the mirror each morning without blinking and murmuring “purple…purple…purple” and then leaving the house and wandering down by the river for hours only stopping to wave at imaginary flightless waterfowl before returning at midday to again stare at yourself in the mirror without blinking and murmuring “purple…purple…purple” and then leaving the house to go to the club where you stand in the middle of the crowded dance floor motionless, aside from doing what could be called as a dance where you move each of your hands as if they are mouths and are having what could best be described as a lover’s quarrel with each other, may not make you any friends, but I am guessing if you are doing this you probably are not desperately trying to make any friends at the moment anyways. At least you have a zombie-like appreciation for a great colour!
As much as I love purple, I have owned very few intentionally purple clothes. I used to have a purple fleece and I wore it all the time. I was so proud or at least as proud as I am able to be as I had limits imposed upon me by my grandparents as some sort of “present” they gave me for my birthday when I turned 16. That fleece and I went everywhere together even when I asked it to stay home. In the end, it got really crazy, the fleece’s ego and attitude went way out of control and I had to get rid of it — sort of like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors — although it is highly possible that I am just remembering scenes from the actual movie as I watched it a lot and the fleece is just in my closet under my prized possession of invisible cufflinks (they are either invisible because I am just not able to see them yet or because they aren’t really there and my wife just wants me to be always searching for missing cufflinks as some part of a large, expansive social experiment she is conducting. My wife is a scientist and is always running experiments, but that is a topic for a future blog — one that she doesn’t have access to solely for safety purposes.
In the end, you may be wondering what was the point of this piece of writing, and I applaud your state of wonderment. If only all of us could wonder so openly about points in this day and age knowing what we all should know by now (I told you you should be keeping up with the reading!). I am proud to say there is no hidden meaning (my lawyers said that I needed to stop hiding meanings on such a regular basis, or at least stop hiding them so well, or hide them at a “6 year old Easter egg hunt” level) or dots to connect (although I have been told that if you connect all of the dots on the i’s in my last post it either created a pro-communist manifesto or a recipe for some really great homemade dill pickles) or literary bodies buried within these words (note that I did emphasize literary, or that I didn’t totally emphasize it until I said that I was emphasizing it…I’ve said too much and I’ve also typed emphasize a few too many times in this tangent that I will need to “lay off” that one for a while so I don’t scare anyone. Too bad as my next “Thoughts of the Day” was going to be about my love of emphasizing things in life — you should try it — does wonders for the eyebrows). No, I only want you to leave here knowing how I feel about my favourite colour and that is it. Don’t make things unnecessarily complex unless that floats your boat and if over-analysis of this article really does help your boat float then count me as super-confused and looking to go fishing whenever you need someone.
