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I'm little, red headed mess, more hair than mass or sense. All I really want to do is make something magical and show the world and have it be proud of me.

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

Colour Makes My Heart Sing.

Here I sit, alone, in a little house, in the middle of a middle class town, sitting on the end of a cul-de-sac behind the spar and listening to S-club.
I listen to passing adolescents singing too high and too flat to a song written by some dude my Dad knows which my Mum, if she wasn't at yoga, would say had a lovely message, so:

Don't stop, never give up, hold your head high and reach the top. Let the world see what you have got - bring it all back to you. Dream of falling in love - any thing you've been thinking of. When the world gets to tough, bring it all back to you.

I have two pieces of mail waiting for me from when I got home this morning. One is a small package, a cuboid about the size of my big hand, maybe a bit bigger, and as deep as my little hand. It has yellow wrap with my name and adress on a small label in the corner. In the middle, in assorted colours is a big caption saying "Colour Makes My Heart Sing." Wow, I'm totally making a mental note to order from this place more often. The other is a rather proffesional looking rectangle. You know the sort, the ones that you use when you're trying to make a good impression on someone, so something in your brain tells you to fold your letter into three because yeah, that ought to give a good impression. Damn, I hope it's what I think it is.

I turn to the package first. I know what it is. I just thought it would have come quicker, but I'm not complaining, at least it got here eventually. I don't want to rip the beautiful, perfect packaging so I tear at the sellotape and stick it to my Mum's coffee table and carefully unfold the yellow sheet around the white box with the company's signiture paintbush logo on it and another "Colour Makes My Heart Sing" and I flick the switch and slowly open the box. I gasp at the beauty of it and take off my Vanessas to get a better look.

And, damn, theyre right. Coulour really does make my heart sing. Twelve little boxes of colour gasp back at me, just begging me to let them re-arrange and mix their beauty on my new acryllic paper. On the top of the case it says in the same style as the other captions "The Building Blocks of Beauty" Once again, they're right. I have bright blue, black, dark geen, brown, Bright green, tan, beige, red, yellow, orange, white, and a dark blue. It's comforting to know that I cna do magnificent things with these colours.

I put the paint back in its box and, since my Mum, who would tell me that my eyes look pretty when they totally don't, isn't in, I decide to leave the Vanessas off. I get the mood right for my next letter, make a milkshake, put on my favorite song (POV by McFly - I have to say I prefer the acoustic version of which I can play the whole of on piano (listen, you'll be impressed with me)if you were at all interested) and sit down in front of the letter, praying it be what I've been praying for all this time. I get my self comfortable on the hairy brown rug and sit and fidget for a moment. I finally get the guts to open this letter and yes, it is from who I hoped. Down the left side of the letter is capitalised "THE BRIT SCHOOL." underneath, is written:
"Applicant Name: Natalie Hill
Strand: Visual Arts & Design

Meeting date..."

Bcause I am super happy and one can only hope that this adventure has just started.

So, here is a girl, alone at the end of a super dry cul-de-sac, throwing on her talking shoes, white cardigan pink scarf and of course, her Vanessas, running out of the door to treat herself to some Marks and Spencers own brand cola and possibly some new Frankies, because she painted the last ones so dark that they look more like Rochelles.

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