I believe in not judging the crayon by its name

Samantha - Deerfield, New Hampshire
Entered on April 16, 2008
Age Group: Under 18

I believe in not judging the crayon by its name.

I was using crayons for a project recently. While I erratically scribbled away, I was talking to my dad about my favorite color, orange, not being the same as my favorite crayon color. My favorite crayon has a title I used to mispronounce—cerulean. When I was younger I never said it right … being little, I added an extra s or c, as well as extra syllables.

In that conversation, my dad started to play philosopher. He stated that titles don’t matter. My dad dove into a theory that he’d created about how people see colors differently. He proposed that perhaps what I see as the shade purple is actually what another person sees as red. Regardless of what shade we personally see, we are taught it is purple. He told me to imagine looking through someone else’s eyes and seeing a sunset with purple, black and blue—but to the person whose eyes I was viewing with, those colors would be titled yellow, orange and red. And to that person, seeing my black as their orange would be perfectly normal. Aside from this clever idea, I learned from this lecture. It came from my father’s first sentence—titles don’t really matter, just the core color.

I always think of this idea for some reason—that only the color matters, not the title. I make my best attempt to not be judgmental before seeing the true colors. Sounds like that ‘80s song. I think of this idea when I am coloring and I come across the macaroni and cheese crayon. It is the closest color to my favorite shade of orange; however, the title repulses me. It is strange because my bedroom walls are painted almost the same shade of summery orange, but it is called tangerine instead—which sounds all the more appetizing. I think I have now realized that the title doesn’t matter. If I disregard the negative parts, I see the best components. If I ignore macaroni and cheese, I see a shade that is quite pleasing to my eyes.

I know it sounds like the old saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” but this is different. I can see the inside and the outside. I can see the good and the bad, but I choose to only see the good. Even when I meet a person, I know that they will have some skeletons in the closet, or at least some downfalls. This is expected since nobody is perfect. Unfortunately, what happens is that a person’s friends begin to judge the negative parts and not the good ingredients. I try to never look at the bad parts and to appreciate their true color, because that is what really matters. I always try to look past their title, and see their color in its best shade.