Never Wear Yellow… unless you want to be a target
… time that I thought it was the first time.
Never wear yellow unless you want to be a target…
… for every insect in your garden – this is what I’ve learned from my brief foray into a wearing a colour I don’t wear.
I don’t wear yellow because my skin is sort of yellow. I’m sure there’s a specific name for the hue of yellow that my skin is versus that of the T-shirt I was wearing, but my ability to recall what a shade of a colour is called is about as efficient as my recall for the names of insects, plants, names of characters in films, TV, games and books, names of pieces of things…
there’s a yellow post-it note stuck in that place where I put post-it notes which says – FIX THE GUTTERING – it says it in caps in a desperate bid to get my attention to get me to do it. BUT to do it I have to find out what the bit of guttering that I need to buy is called as just going into a shop (or shopping online) and saying – I need guttering – is not going to get the bit of guttering that I actually need to fix it. I need a bendy bit and that other curved bit that swivels and fits into the straight bit which comes down from that other straight bit that’s open and not closed… I know exactly what I’m after but trying to explain it makes me sound like someone who hasn’t a clue what they’re after or what they’re doing (which is probably true but also not totally true)…
I’ll do that later as it involves the type of research which goes in one eye and out the other … in the meantime the sort of botch-job fix which I did to stop the guttering from replicating a power-waterfall out to strip not just the paint but also the render from the house (which does need to be removed according to an expert in such things, but not removed like that… although… it would save me some expense in an expensive endeavour that will probably never happen) when it rains and pours as it has been lately… it wasn’t such a bad botch-job, it has turned the power-waterfall into a Chinese water-torture trickle of power-drips…
“Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but through persistence.”
Thanks to the effects of water and other weather effects on the surface of this house, I now know that before the previous owner white-washed it (rather superficially and ineffectually for the long term) it was yellow-ish.
Don’t get me wrong…
unless you enjoy that kind of pastime and find it entertaining to inflict your enjoyment of getting people wrong on others, I do that sometimes-considered-an-a-holey-thing-to-do thing and it can be fun. Mine is mostly dyslexia inspired – you should read news headlines the way I do when I’m high on dyslexia (which means I’m tired, my eyes are being lazy and they’re sending my mind all sorts of misinformation) – they recently read that someone almost died from a chocolate overdose, which was fascinating until ‘chocolate’ turned out to be ‘cocaine’ and then it was a very human almost tragedy without the… chocolate).
… I don’t hate the colour yellow, I just look like I have jaundice when I wear it and that’s not a particularly attractive look for people to see you wearing. Even if like me you’re not too concerned about what others see when they look at you… what they see does have bearing on how they behave and treat you (so your not giving an eff needs to sometimes give an eff or be aware of the consequences on sticking with your not giving an eff).
I’m here, I’m that other kind of queer, and asking or telling you to get used to it doesn’t mean you will… empathy works both ways!
Mind you… I did used to wage a war on yellow because it stimulated my mental…
Yellow is supposed to stimulate the mental faculties according to colour pop-psychology specialists… which ties in how exactly with the whole – yellow is the colour of cowards – theory!? Are stimulated minds more likely to be cowards? But isn’t it the belly which is yellow when you’re a coward?
excerpt from a colour thingy from a pinterest search of colour thingies
I did also recently strip all the yellow paint off the walls of the kitchen of my new house. Part of that was due to the paint itself which was latex rather than the colour itself… but… was it really!?!
I actually really liked the kitchen in yellow when I first saw it, but…
love at first sight doesn’t = continued love once you live with the object of your love at first sight…
by the time I stripped the paint I was a bit disillusioned about the benefits of an all-yellow (walls and ceiling) kitchen – it made all the food prepared there look yellow, and the yellow itself was dark and almost green in certain light. It ate sunlight rather than reflect it and… so my love at sight for it turned into something more akin to hate at every sighting of it.
although… I am closing on on two decades with someone I fell in love with at first sight – he was gorgeous then and still is, more so now that I know TMI about him!
And the yellow I was wearing did once belong to him – he didn’t want it so I ‘borrowed’ it (because I hate shopping but I love ‘borrowing’ what others no longer want – let’s not get into the deep dark psyche of that!
That’s how I ended up wearing a colour which I say that I never wear?
And is it really my first time?
No, because I was a teen in the 80’s and… let’s not go into that either!
Will I do it again?
Yes, I’ll do it again and each time I do it I’ll somehow think it’s my first time because… sometimes what you never wear is something which you’ve worn before but your mind tells you… a different story.
Selective amnesia or something like that…
such as that story isn’t one which holds your attention for long enough for you to recall that you’ve been there and done that before.
Mind: Hello, this is new!
Rest of self: No, it’s not…
Mind: Hello, this is new!
Rest of self: No, you’ve done this before…
Mind: No, I haven’t!
Rest of self: Yes, you have, you’ve just forgotten…
Mind: Hello, this is new!
Rest of self: FFS! Yes, yes, yes, it’s so new that you’ve done it before!
“All that happens means something; nothing you do is ever insignificant.”
― Aldous Huxley, Crome Yellow
I was fine wearing my bright yellow (yes, now the yellow is bright) as long as I stayed indoors… kind of like your thoughts are fine as long as you don’t say them out loud… and someone else hears it…
but the moment I went outside…
I was covered in tiny black beetles (the ones who love yellow flowers), and get in your eyes, ears and your mouth if it’s open… as small as they are when you look at one, together, en masse… small things become big issues…
and the bees which usually ignore me suddenly treated me as though I was a famous… monument they needed to visit as tourists and take a selfie with it to prove that they had been there and done that.