The Day My Father Began to Understand the Colors of My World :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

The world is full of color. It has to be. Where else would we find depth and meaning and usance? Color comes together to make shape. The vibrancy of blues, reds and yellows both wash everyplace us as we experience life. Everything ruptures with color, even music with its bright highs and unfairness lows or language spoken with meaning and clarity. Existence is an art and the freedom to express your art a privilege we all hold dear. I discovered the power of expression when I was young. Crayons and scissors filled my mind. I could manipul have a world of my own on paper, shaping its people. I was king. I knew my subjects. They were spread in 2-demensions before me as they struggled to all bleed my mind at once. Although my scribbles never quite matched the emotion I mat up deep inside me, they were enough. The forms and figures were mine. I created them. I began to know myself as I continued to grow and develop, but I could never reach the supreme plateau I felt so strongly th at I needed. I needed a boost to reach some sort of say-so in my ability and my love. I tried to achieve acceptance once. Although I was young, I remember it well. I had spent all day in school creating another expansive world. As my teacher rattled get rid of times tables and division, I furiously created an eight-year-old masterpiece through a beleaguer of colored pencils and erasers. As I perfected each tree in my landscape, I began to feel powerful. I knew what it was to create and to be good all I needed was for someone to show confidence in my work. My father picked me up, but I didnt take this opportunity to show her. My picture was special. It deserved the ultimate unveiling. I was going to show it to my father. Dad came home unhappy, as usual, and ready for dinner. I knew better than to involve him yet. As I ate my unnoticed meal, I could barely hold my excitement. After dinner, I ran to my way of life and unfolded my work along its careful creases. I walked slowly to his chair, carefully and excitedly balancing my masterpiece in my hands. Look, Dad, look at what I did. I did it today in school all by myself. He glum slowly in his chair, upset because his connection with CNN had been broken.