Let's start at the beginning... where choices don't exist.
I was born in San Antonio, Texas, in a time without internet. It was a time when phones required chords, cars did not require airbags, and only men were allowed to read the news. I stole that last part from the beginning of 'Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy', a film I highly recommend if copious amounts of juvenile absurdity tickles your funny bone.
At a young age I was whisked away from the Alamo's surrounding metroplex with no knowledge of why. Like Ozzy Osbourne stammering away from the prominent mission's iconic wall in a drunken stupor, the inevitable destination was prison. This may insinuate a rather drastic metaphor, but when one is hard-wired to embrace the abstract and shun the ordinary, a small town, straight-arrow conditioning trajectory contradicts, and ultimately enhances, the pensive nature of such a being.
Snakes, nuns, screaming and Star Wars (both kinds) are but a few of my elementary memories. In these moments just past dawn, the wall was erected and the paint was wet. The origins of a lifespan are, in these moments, carelessly flung or carefully implemented on that wall. And the irony of a youngster's life is that the brush painting the foundation of their picture is held in the hands of others. And those hands paint that which they know, based on their own palette, and are all too often unaware of that which they are flinging and incognizant or unconcerned with implementations later discovered.
In these moments, the blacks and whites and rituals were no match for the daily paintings of cynicism and defeat, and the subconscious acquired these colors of frustration and doubt and mixed them with those of dogmatic guilt and fear. But of course at this time the conscious had no knowledge of any of "this". It only knew "this" as reality. There were no other colors at that time. There was no real knowledge. The journey of self-discovery to follow, and the removal and rearrangement of these colors, would serve as both muse and monster, coexisting in a frazzled, unfocused state of glorious horror.
Where are you from?
What is your favorite color?