Burgundy

According to the almighty internet, burgundy is a reddish brown, and maroon is a brownish red. So this shade is halfway between the boldest colour on the spectrum and the muddiest neutral. I must confess that while I don’t dislike any colour, burgundy is far from my favourite. Perhaps I find it a bit tough to work with because it can’t decide if it’s a colour or a neutral.

burgundy-board1

I firmly believe that any colour can work with any other colour as long as you pick the right tones, but colours also appear different in various settings, depending on lighting, so an outfit that looks fine at home could be jarring at work. This is where burgundy can be tricky. You might think you’re wearing a sedate and professional blazer only to enter a room with florescent lighting and realize you’re a bright beacon of ridiculousness. But why not be ridiculous?

So maybe I take issue with burgundy because it’s like a red that couldn’t commit. It’s red that rolled around in the mud, because it didn’t want to stand out in a crowd. It wants to play it safe, but still be bold, rich, and opulent. Burgundy is so smug, ’cause it gets to have it both ways. Burgundy and navy should get together and start a band, called the colourful neutrals, and they can roam the urban landscape, being utterly inoffensive and work appropriate.

burgundy-board2

So by now you’re guessing that I shun burgundy in my wardrobe. But no, I’ve got tons of it. After all, sometimes you need to be inoffensive and work appropriate while still privately enjoying that you’ve got some red in you.

May 29, 1991

I am in English class again (another loose leaf transfer). I went to the eye doctor this morning, the eye infection is still there. Got some ointment. It seems pretty good. I won’t put eye drops in but it’s a kind of gel that you put in the eye (gross). Well I’ll see how it feels. Jane is going to break up with her boyfriend. I think that’s good. I don’t like being single when she’s not. Crystal’s grad ceremony tomorrow.

                                      Ugh, I’m so ashamed of how petty and jealous I was about Jane. I was such a terrible friend. I still am actually. I mean I’m not petty and envious anymore but I’m very limited in how many people I can care about at any given time. According to science we all are, and the average person can only handle about five close friendships at a time, but I think my number is one. If I’m hanging out with a specific person then I’m very attentive to them, but out of sight, out of mind.

June 11, 1991

Crystal’s ceremony was nice. I screamed but she didn’t hear. The Sunday next my eye got swollen, went to eye doctor following thursday, got drops, is getting better. I also have to put warm compresses on it (eye, left). Jane dumped Kyle ’cause he was a “mama’s little boy”. I met Luba last Saturday! She is neighbour’s friend. I went over and got her autograph. Nancy Fontaine invited me to the 6th grade reunion on the 15th (Saturday). I’m gonna call Marlène and ask if she can come down for it. I hope I can bring Jane too.

                                       I wasn’t even a fan of Luba’s. I guess I just liked the idea of meeting a celebrity. I have very much gotten over that since then. In fact, meeting Luba was so unremarkable that it may have cured me of celebrity worship.

June 25, 1991

The reunion was pretty boring. I could have lived without going. Marlène didn’t come. I didn’t call her ’cause she had a performance the next day. Jane went to New York. The good thing about all of that was that at the McDonald’s I got a “43” penny in change. Wow.

                                      I collected pennies. I still have the collection, which I keep in a little gum ball machine. Pennies were discontinued in Canada about a year ago so maybe the collection will eventually be worth something… or become and increasingly obsolete paper weight.

It’s Crystal’s prom tomorrow and Mom and Dad’s anniversary (21 years). We are going to eat out and then Mom and Dad are going to Crystal’s prom for 30 minutes while Keith and I lounge around the lounge. (heh, heh).

                                   In Canada, or at least in Montreal, prom is actually called grad ball, and it’s not exactly like what you see on American TV shows. Parents show up for a while to dance with their kids and then the kids do their own thing. My sister’s grad ball was at the Ritz so that’s what I meant by lounge in the lounge. I also ended up making an appearance at my brother’s grad ball but I never went to my own because 1993 was pretty much my peak of depression and self-loathing. It’s interesting that this diary entry is so stark, and point-form, as opposed to an exploration of how I was feeling. I think it’s an indication that the depression was beginning. Good times.