I am a senior this year, and as such I have gone through a bunch of things that most everyone I know has referred to as "a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." Which explains my friend's constant marriages and divorces. What, isn't a wedding also supposed to be a "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity" as well?
But this is about my thoughts, not my friend's epic disappointments and failures.
For example, prom. Sure, maybe with that particular name. But at my prom, I honestly felt like I was basically just clubbing with more formal clothing. And how did I feel this way? One slow dance. One. And that was only because of the homecoming king and queen's spotlight dance, where everyone had to slow dance during that. It was essentially clubbing.
Not to say it wasn't fun, it was. It just didn't feel like a "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunity.
The reason I started this rant is because of a certain counter-argument someone presented me. But before this, you might want the entire back-story.
Basically, one day I was being hassled by some stupid company to buy graduation invitations and such stuff, and I thought it ridiculous. Why would I spend $50 to mail stuff to family and friends when I could accomplish the same feat for free by calling and saying "Hey, it's on this date."
I was listening blankly until the decided to pester me about shelling out $75 for my cap and gown. I was confused for a second, and asked, "Wait, you mean to keep?"
"No, to wear," a blank silence following.
"I have to pay $75 for an outfit that I'm going to wear for an hour and a half of my life, not counting rehearsals, which I must give back afterwards?"
She looked slightly taken aback. "Well... Yes."
"And isn't a cap and gown sort of necessary to, you know, walk at graduation?"
Her face began to show signs of nervousness. Obviously no one else had questioned this. "I... I suppose."
"So essentially, you're asking me to pay seventy-five dollars to participate in a ceremony which I have already earned the right to be in by surviving the trials and tribulations of high school, correct?"
"Er... yes...."
And that's when I flew off the handle. "You greedy-ass company." And I walked out.
There are several cultures with a rite of passage. It varies between them all, but all involves suffering through some kind of trial before you earn the privilege of participating in the ceremony. Absolutely no culture in the universe, after you've suffered, asks for your pet chicken in return for letting you hold a hot coal between your legs.
It's absolutely ridiculous to think that after I've gone through all the prerequisites needed to graduate, they can just say, "Oh yeah, and if you don't give us money, you can't walk." First off, it's completely unfair to the families that can't afford to take their kid to school everyday. I know a couple of kids who can't walk at graduation because they can't pay for the cap and gown because their parents have to save every penny for, you know, bills. And other important stuff. Like food. That's slightly necessary to survive.
Now, these kids are still graduating, as I am, but they won't be able to participate in a ceremony they've earned to be in, basically because they're poor.
So this is my protest.
To the people providing our caps? And our gowns?
Go play with your simian cousins.
Showing posts with label prom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prom. Show all posts
4/10/08
3/16/08
Prom, 2008
To protect those in this blog from online predators, MySpace idiots, and ghosts that originate in chain letters, all names of people and places have been altered.
It's times like this that I wish there was a blog category entitled "Time of My Freakin' Life." Because prom last night was quite possibly the most fun I ever had at a school-sanctioned event. And why is this? I can sum it up in one tiny little sentence:
I didn't freak out about it!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's true, when you stress less you have more fun. If there's one thing I've learned about prom, it is this: It is nothing but a more expensive Homecoming. While we've grown up being told that "Prom will be the most magical event of your life," that's total and utter bull, not to mention demeaning towards your wedding night and honeymoon. Yes, prom is exquisite and a hell of a lot better than homecoming, if not just for the simple fact that the dance floor is bigger than the gym and the entire place isn't crawling with freshmen and sophomores. And yet, it's just a school-sanctioned social event in which adolescent human beings attend to make complete morons of themselves.
Take me for example. Throughout the night, I went up to couples dancing and asked "May I cut in?" And the guy would step aside.
And then I would freak them both out by booty dancing on the dude.
The essence of this event, I believed, was to have fun. Nothing but that. I guess having a date is cool too, but it wasn't important and honestly, I thought it just added to the stress. Everyone I knew with a date did nothing and talked about nothing how to make themselves look the best they can be.
Allow me to pause for a second and rant about that phrase. "Look the best you can be"? Wrong. What it should be is "Look the best you can afford." Keep in mind that not all of us have rich-ass families that can snap their fingers to make a freakin' sweet new limo come out of nowhere to ferry us at our will wherever we want until prom time. Not to mention some of the girls had to wear either hand-me-down prom dresses or their homecoming dress from two years ago.
Growing up without as much money as other people doesn't exactly humble you, but it does put things in a different perspective. Like I guess I can understand why you would shell out a few hundred dollars for the perfect dress and coolest limo, but it just reminds me of that one auto insurance commercial: "If you can have this (scene of something really good happening) for the same price as this (scene of something really cruddy happening), why wouldn't you?"
In the end, a limo is just a fancier mode of transportation. And seriously, ours was kind of lame. It was a bus with a bar. And it wasn't even a stocked bar! We had to provide our own drinks!
But back to the date thing: it's cool and all that you want to impress your date, but I think I had more fun by the sole fact that I didn't have one. I didn't have to worry about impressing anyone! Do you know what I wore? My chorus outfit. It fit the criteria! It was a tux shirt and tux pants! Do you know what it cost me? $25 fair share for chorus that I paid in the beginning of the year.
Not kidding.
And don't start with the whole "Well, you're a guy," bull, because if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, sexual equality has to go both ways. Not to mention that I know three girls who bought $20 worth of make-up and then wore a dress they've worn before. So just shush.
At any rate, the dance was a lot of fun. I danced with everyone I knew, and even danced with girls that I was introduced to that night. I came super close to hooking up with someone, but didn't. 'Cause I have principles, damn it! Heh, well, I have some principles.
Some events that stand-out in my mind?
Ryan dancing crazily on the floor with me on top of him.
Me stage diving. That was cool.
Dancing nonstop from the moment I got there to the moment the dance ended.
Dancing for about half an hour with this girl. Then for another half hour with this other girl. Then for another hour with Bobby.
Freaking Kristin out. That was a high point, not gonna lie.
Coming a millimeter close to making out with a girl I just met that night and pulling away at the last second.
Seriously, as the night drew to a close, I was in a state of disembodied content. Because the following sentence I never thought I would hear myself utter, nor type. In fact, before now, if anybody ever used this sentence to describe me, I would deny it incessantly. That sentence?
"I am an f-ing pimp."
Somewhere inside this frail nerd body is an f-ing pimp. But really, isn't there one in us all? Come on, let me show just what I'm made of.
It's times like this that I wish there was a blog category entitled "Time of My Freakin' Life." Because prom last night was quite possibly the most fun I ever had at a school-sanctioned event. And why is this? I can sum it up in one tiny little sentence:
I didn't freak out about it!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's true, when you stress less you have more fun. If there's one thing I've learned about prom, it is this: It is nothing but a more expensive Homecoming. While we've grown up being told that "Prom will be the most magical event of your life," that's total and utter bull, not to mention demeaning towards your wedding night and honeymoon. Yes, prom is exquisite and a hell of a lot better than homecoming, if not just for the simple fact that the dance floor is bigger than the gym and the entire place isn't crawling with freshmen and sophomores. And yet, it's just a school-sanctioned social event in which adolescent human beings attend to make complete morons of themselves.
Take me for example. Throughout the night, I went up to couples dancing and asked "May I cut in?" And the guy would step aside.
And then I would freak them both out by booty dancing on the dude.
The essence of this event, I believed, was to have fun. Nothing but that. I guess having a date is cool too, but it wasn't important and honestly, I thought it just added to the stress. Everyone I knew with a date did nothing and talked about nothing how to make themselves look the best they can be.
Allow me to pause for a second and rant about that phrase. "Look the best you can be"? Wrong. What it should be is "Look the best you can afford." Keep in mind that not all of us have rich-ass families that can snap their fingers to make a freakin' sweet new limo come out of nowhere to ferry us at our will wherever we want until prom time. Not to mention some of the girls had to wear either hand-me-down prom dresses or their homecoming dress from two years ago.
Growing up without as much money as other people doesn't exactly humble you, but it does put things in a different perspective. Like I guess I can understand why you would shell out a few hundred dollars for the perfect dress and coolest limo, but it just reminds me of that one auto insurance commercial: "If you can have this (scene of something really good happening) for the same price as this (scene of something really cruddy happening), why wouldn't you?"
In the end, a limo is just a fancier mode of transportation. And seriously, ours was kind of lame. It was a bus with a bar. And it wasn't even a stocked bar! We had to provide our own drinks!
But back to the date thing: it's cool and all that you want to impress your date, but I think I had more fun by the sole fact that I didn't have one. I didn't have to worry about impressing anyone! Do you know what I wore? My chorus outfit. It fit the criteria! It was a tux shirt and tux pants! Do you know what it cost me? $25 fair share for chorus that I paid in the beginning of the year.
Not kidding.
And don't start with the whole "Well, you're a guy," bull, because if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, sexual equality has to go both ways. Not to mention that I know three girls who bought $20 worth of make-up and then wore a dress they've worn before. So just shush.
At any rate, the dance was a lot of fun. I danced with everyone I knew, and even danced with girls that I was introduced to that night. I came super close to hooking up with someone, but didn't. 'Cause I have principles, damn it! Heh, well, I have some principles.
Some events that stand-out in my mind?
Ryan dancing crazily on the floor with me on top of him.
Me stage diving. That was cool.
Dancing nonstop from the moment I got there to the moment the dance ended.
Dancing for about half an hour with this girl. Then for another half hour with this other girl. Then for another hour with Bobby.
Freaking Kristin out. That was a high point, not gonna lie.
Coming a millimeter close to making out with a girl I just met that night and pulling away at the last second.
Seriously, as the night drew to a close, I was in a state of disembodied content. Because the following sentence I never thought I would hear myself utter, nor type. In fact, before now, if anybody ever used this sentence to describe me, I would deny it incessantly. That sentence?
"I am an f-ing pimp."
Somewhere inside this frail nerd body is an f-ing pimp. But really, isn't there one in us all? Come on, let me show just what I'm made of.
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