brownie or black?

i met my friend for a drink last night at a very hip place in downtown raleigh...sort of like a bar, restaurant, and cafe all fused into one. the eatery always attracts a very diverse crowd and the cheap pbr beer is surely a crowd-pleaser. anyways, i had insisted that i join her because i wanted to meet her friend who happened to be a designer. in case you didn't know, i'm all about creativity as a profession.
i didn't get to pick his brain nearly as much as i would've liked to, but i did learn a few things about him and the events leading up to who he was today. like how his initial project of exposing the beauty within old, decaying, and abandoned architecture eventually turned into a profitable job photographing newly erected, "perfect" buildings. ironic, no? i especially like this biographical tidbit because it shows us how following one direction in life can open the door to a completely different (and in this case, completely opposite) direction.
we began talking more about his current work consisting of designing books and an apple app (no big deal), which lead him to express his frustrations with life. he was experiencing a lack of motivation and drive for no good reason, something we can surely all relate to. this upset him because he didn't know how we was going to get himself out of this funk. he had contemplated leaving carolina for a few days to clear his head, but that would be difficult for him considering his tight budget. he made a good point about how it is hard to be creative when during every hour of every day you are thinking about money and the bills you have to pay. we all nodded our heads in agreement, taking a swig of our beers.
i sensed a pause--a lull, if you will--in the conversation, for which i began to fill with my own qualms in life. there i went, asking the table if they thought my finger nails were brown or black. wanting the most perfect brown hue to accentuate my hands, i had just recently bought a bottle of nail polish called "brownie". i expressed my concern over whether they actually came across as brown or if they were dangerously close to the gothic black look. little did i know that a tiny storm was brewing inside my new friend, the designer. he finally let loose...we couldn't keep the laughter from spilling out as he reenacted how i had just countered his financial and professional troubles with the crisis of finding the right color. his tone was patronizing yet playful as he ranted on about how my life must obviously be good if i am complaining about something as insignificant as nail polish. i took absolutely no offense because it was hilarious to listen to this guy point out how cushiony most of our young lives actually are when we take a moment to breathe and look at the big picture. i was reminded of a similar "dilemma" i had while in new york city: "how the hell am i going to transport all these cupcakes on the plane ride home!?"
for the reason that life is relative, i don't believe in measuring the quality of one's life against another by simply assessing what each person has and does not have. we all have our moments when we complain about the expensive shoes that are giving us blisters or how the accent of our newly-installed navigational system is a little too british for our liking. we shouldn't have to justify that our lives are indeed challenging and stressful because these irritations happen to infiltrate our conversations with others. sometimes it's nice to complain about the little things because it takes our mind off of the big things. however, last night, the sign of a good life was measured by a .5 ounce bottle of goo...whether the goo is actually brownie or black is still under debate.