Prom

Tomorrow night I will be somewhere in Ventura living out the last hurrah of my senior year.

I honestly cannot wait. We’ve waited four years to finally have a dance dedicated to us and not have to ride on the bus to the site and back.

The juniors have spent weeks planning this event for us and have really tried to make us happy. I can’t see a reason why it wouldn’t be enjoyable.

It has all built up till the final moment. As seniors, it is out opportunity to enjoy what has been planned for us and to share the experience with others. We should honestly just have a good time and forget that some of us don’t get along.

I propose that tomorrow, we leave all of our preconceived assumption about prom and all our negativity behind. Let’s enjoy our last prom with class, please. It’d be lovely to thoroughly enjoy this moment.

I went on an adventure which took me from Ojai to Topanga and everywhere between. One of my best friends prom dress never came in the mail, so with my aunts help, we spent seven and a half hours in search of the perfect dress. It’s people like us that actually care about prom, where as most don’t. It’s supposed to be a memorable experience that is shared between classmates, and our adventure today really reminded me of that.

We are one class, sharing one experience that will forever be remembered. Let’s make it the best we can.

All You Need

Bright lights blind my eyes and the makeup feels like it is about to melt off of my face. My smile is large and over exaggerated, making my cheeks hurt. I am frozen, my right arm is extended horizontally, my elbow slightly bent with my fingers pointed up to the ceiling and my palm facing the wall. My left arm is lifted, draping over my head with my wrist and hand both limp. My silky hot pink shirt is tailored tight, restricting my breath, but I am still able to open my mouth and belt out my songs.

The band waits for the audience to stop applauding before they start playing; it is my cue to move again. I twirl through rows of people, all dressed in black with red sashes around their waists and paper boy hats on top of their heads. Their characters do not see me, though my character, the fictional Ringa Starr, attempts to get their attention. They suddenly swirl around me, picking me up high above their heads, and spin me in a circle. Their eyes are forward, away from me. They pretend not to see me; they only feel my presence. They set me down, and with a deep breath I open my mouth to sing with as much feeling as I have inside of me:

All you need is love!
All you need is love!
All you need is love, love;
love is all you need!

Ringa Starr

Ringa Starr

Read More »