1/2000s | f4.5 | 22mm | A quiet afternoon at Times Square, NYC.
New York; I love New York. Can't say I can say the same about York. Never mind that I haven't been there. It might be a charming town with medieval architecture that rivals, in human ingenuity, the skyscrapers of New York, but I don't care.
New York suggests Stephen Colbert, glamour, fame; York evokes Judi Dench, quaintness, meh. You can't have absinthe in York, but you could have it legally in New York. Point is, you could do what the heck you want in New York. And if you could make it there, you could make it anywhere! So goes the song and the promise.
The university I go to is no New York. Its name isn't associated to Paul Krugman or John Nash; college snobs brush it off as I would brush off York in favour of New York. I'm not complaining; at least it has a better name than my secondary school which was named after the adjacent road which in turn is called Reservoir Road, leading as it does to a suburban reservoir.
As I approach the end of my undergraduate studies (have got to work hard for the final exams hence the lack of updates but some on Twitter), I realise that over the past 4 years, I have learnt more from the non-academic aspect of university life. Where I go from here should have less to do with the name of the school I went to than my ability to come up with awesome implicit comparisons which require prerequisite knowledge on the references used for complete appreciation (Cass Business School is no New York? Nailed it!).