Sub Par

I was talking to a lady yesterday. She was going on about how she had a deprived childhood/teenagehood because she grew up in Canada, where they only have ONE school dance the whole 12 years you go, which was an okay dance, but nothing compared to Prom. She was rather incensed by the whole thing, and expressed how she had always wanted to marry an American so that her kids could live the "American Dream." I guess I didn't realize that Prom was part of the "American Dream." Maybe I missed that memo.

Anyway, I sat there nodding my head, because, frankly, I didn't have much of an opinion about Prom. I was asked to go to Preference once, and, to make a long story short, I said yes, then no, and then had to bear the guilt of knowing I had smashed the poor guy's existence ("I knew it was too good to be true," were his words. Being the heartless tart I was, I just shrugged a little, and proceeded to lead him on for the remaining duration of our high school careers...and partially into college...and during his mission...What??! It has been scientifically proven that a brain isn't fully connected until you are, like, 23 or something, and even that is debatable.).

I was happy to just let her and my other friend talk about the joys of Prom, but she apparently felt like she was excluding me, and turned her attention to me.

"So, Dara, was your mom really into dressing up her girls for Prom?"

I blinked.

"Well, actually, my dad was a teacher, and we were poor, so...and I don't even know if my older sisters went, and I don't think my brothers cared..." The look on her face as I confessed all these things was like I had just thrown up on her carpet and had begun rolling in it. She was the epitome of "If you can't say something nice, stare in utter disbelief, bite your tongue until it bleeds, and then abruptly change the subject as soon as the other person shuts up."

I went away from the conversation feeling sub par. It's prom...What's the big deal? Maybe I was faulty because I didn't care?? Now if she asked my opinion of weddings, I probably would have regained favor, but alas...it was not to be.

It made me think of my pillow (odd, yes, I know, but it did all the same). It is everything a pillow should be. It's perfect. Not too firm, not too soft. Doesn't lose it's feathers. No, really, if pillows could be exalted, this pillow would be.

Here it is:

And here is its roommate: Jeremy's pillow isn't...normal. Half the time, it completely flat and I think it lost most of its feathers years ago. It is NOTHING in comparison to the pillow Jeremy brought into our marriage, which was so old I am pretty sure it mostly comprised of human skin and drool. It took a long time to convince Jeremy it was a health hazard, and to upgrade to his current nocturnal cushion, which he promptly rolled in drool and sprayed with liquid malaria.

Now...the funny thing is...

I like Jeremy's better than mine.

As soon as Jeremy leaves the bed before the crack of the crack of the crack of dawn, I roll over and snuggle with this bedding abomination. I would like to say it's because it reminds me of Jeremy, but that would be a lie. It's just a super awesome pillow.

And why do I bring this whole pillow thing up? Because I feel a little like Jeremy's reject pillow. My ideals and I may not be perfect, but I am loved, and just because I am covered in drool and what I tend to preoccupy myself with isn't the status quo doesn't mean we (my preoccupations and I) don't have value. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then value is on the scales of the measurer. Does gold have more value than lead? Well, I guess it depends on what you intend it for. And everybody has needs for different things at different times.

So...Am I a freak for not caring about Prom? Probably, but I really shouldn't care what other people think. I mean, I'm sure there are things I care about which have absolutely no value to anybody else, things that I weigh in my scales that nobody else does, and this is a good lesson for me not to judge others for what they care about. I mean, not everybody cares that the "Twilight" series ended in the crappiest manner possible (and I suppose you could even go so far as to say not everybody cares that the "Twilight" series even exists).

But, you can go ahead and like it. That's your prerogative. I'll try and not look at you sideways. Or throw up on your carpet.