Watch out Big Boobs Barbie, I'm angry and I know how to read a traffic light

When I was a kid, I remember sitting at a traffic light in the car with my mom. I asked her why traffic lights had colors? Why the colors were arranged vertically the way that they were? Why was this important? She explained that each color represented a rule about something different. Red means stop. Yellow means slow down, proceed with caution. Green means go. She went on to describe a number of other things about the colors and how they can each be seen from far away, etc. I asked again, why they were arranged vertically in the same order for each traffic light? She explained that some people do not see colors and that the order of the lights in a traffic light was important so that these people too could have the ability to drive a car. “Oh,” I remember saying. It had not occurred to me that some people did not see the world in the same way that I did. On a very elementary level, this realization has meant much to me and the way I perceive life.

So, some people are color blind. They cannot legitimately see blues and greens, or colors in general. For them, the whole world exists in black and white, and shades of gray. This is not unlike how the rest of us view the world. There are times in life when all we see and live in are shades of gray. Many would argue those grays are the only truths that exist. That to name, quantify, or create boundaries that define and specify each shade of black, white, or gray act as false realities. They are not functional; those names and quantities and false boundaries are lies.
I don’t really know how I feel about that, but I do know that I am searching and hunting for someone that sees the same shades of colors as I do.

Do you remember when your mom taught you the colors of the rainbow? The grass is green. The sun is yellow. The sky is blue. Well, what if when you look at the sky and see that it is blue, the blue that you see is actually red to me? I want to find my color mate, the person that sees the same colors as I do, the person who will understand my perspective regardless of the presentation of a situation or environment. Many scientists would probably argue that that is not possible because of the electromagnetic spectrum and all that. But what do scientists know about souls?

I fell in love with my first boyfriend when I was fourteen. He was cute and athletic and had an Adam’s apple. We dated twice, both times our relationship ended because he cheated on me. Despite him being an ass, we did share some similarities about color perception. We both knew that God was around and that our place was with God. Mainly, that’s all we had in common. In fact, we were both so turned on by God that we made a habit of making out in our church youth room during parish suppers. It was always so exciting; making out in the building where we both felt so comfortable and loved. The atmosphere reeked of passion, and we were enhanced by that scent when we took our shirts off to let the air (and each other’s hands) touch forbidden, intimate flesh. This practice promptly ended the night that his father walked in on us just as he was rounding second base. I think I said, “um, your dad’s here.” Then, I walked out of that room and right into a game of tag with his mom. I hid in the church library, a common practice of mine when attempting to deal with difficult life dilemmas. Little did I know that libraries would soon become a breeding ground for relationships in my life.

The second relationship I had with him ended at a track meet in which we were both participants. I was running the 3200m and he was cheering for me. Little did he know that the only reason I broke my personal record that day was because five minutes prior to my race, I saw him rounding second base with Big Boobs Barbie under the bleachers. I was mad, and I ran with all my anger. Right after I placed for the first and last time of my high school track career at the meet, I broke up with him. I think that that’s also when I learned that I did not like girls with big tits. I remember telling my mom about what happened. She was really proud of me, but then again, she wears a cup size A and knows a lot about traffic lights.