A Nervous Sun
A nervous sun hid behind the horizon and everything was in silhouette. Every parked car, every lamppost, every bird and tree. Every statuesque building; the quiet sky scrapers, those mundain (mundane) coloured concrete pillars that ooze constant streams of translucent pollution from the sunrise until the sunset. Every blankly painted tower block. The slowly-waking newsagents, hotels, train stations and everything in between. All black cardboard shadow puppets in a black and white town. A silence took over. Almost uninterrupted and untouched. Most of us, never experience a city this early in its entirety. People are either asleep or part of the gentle awakening posing as another silhouette, the postmen or the police or something. Having a purpose at this hour does not count as ‘experiencing’. Only a handful of individuals wake this early just to watch the rest of the city wake up and those who do are classed as ‘deranged’ or ‘hopeless romantics’.
The next minute came around and the sun grew confidence. Rays of light invaded brickwork and buildings gradually grew colour. At first, metallic greys and silvers, glimmering in the slowly approaching sunlight. Every second released new colours into view and a crisp paradox between light and dark emerged. Murderous birds flew in and out of the clear synonym and the darkened antonym with prey spewed across their beaks. Even blood was slowly becoming richer and even more crimson. Washing lines and lampposts came into focus and cat’s eyes on the roads glistened with life. Winking at on comers with headlights. Sunbeams came together with the early morning dew to smother parks and greens in a river of light and water and the cold bitter morning of a few minutes before became an orgasm of light and moisture. Newspapers with some arrogant politician in greyscale, declaring that “England is in disrepute!” and TESCO plastic bags caught against fences finally, after almost three hours of hopeless fluttering, become free and fly off into some anonymous backstreet, setting off before meeting another object and becoming entwined for a few minutes only to fly off and find another like a four time divorcee. Windows started to cry and raindrops fell across the glass like a thousand weeping teenage girls. Each droplet was clear and perfect in size and shape. Each choosing a different path from the last like a 10p machine from an arcade in Brighton. Each amazing event went on unnoticed though. It was actually quite depressing.
People are not Always Black and White
The phrase ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ has never struck such resonance with me as during these first few weeks at university.
The idea that the world is as simple as black and white often affects our actions and choices in life. If we allow this straight laced mind-set to extend to the way we define new people we meet, will we ever be able to branch out?
It’s in our nature to prejudge; the girl in your seminar with earrings you’d never wear, the boy speaking out during your lecture. It’s all too easy to run back to the safety of your flatmates and tear them to pieces. They are outside of your comfort zone, and you don’t want to know any more about them.
But should these first impressions be the lasting ones?
It’s probably fair to say that a lot of us have started university desperately wanting to meet new people; perhaps we’ve spent too much time with many similar people, and are now craving crave change and variety.
By quickly defining these new people as ‘strange’, you have blocked them out of your social circle, alienating yourself; they will go on to make their own friends regardless of whether or not you’re interested, and by putting up your defences, you’re the one losing out on a potential new ally.
Peel back the layers and Earring Girl might feel exactly the same way about your set text as you do. Lecture Boy could become your new drinking buddy.
The world is definitely NOT black and white; neither should our judgements of people be.