On the CBC this morning, that great promoter of the Canadian middle class, I was hearing one more tear-jerker for the privileged: those poor middle class high school students who are likely going to miss their grad celebrations and all because of that big mean and nasty covid 19 pandemic. They are going to be traumatized for life. They are never going to get over it. Aw, I feel so sorry for you poor disenfranchised children of privilege. Now please let me play a tune for you on the world's tiniest violin!
Oh, but this is to allow them to have closure on their twelve years of education, and to say goodbye to all their dear little friends, and it is just so heartbreaking that they can't wrap everything up with their little ceremony, where they can all dress up like movie stars attending the Oscars, and get piss, snot-hanging drunk and then go pee on the cedar hedge the way I saw four young grade twelve boys dressed in tuxedos, watering the cedar trees with their skanky penises sticking out of their posh trousers just outside the super posh Bayshore Inn Hotel, one June evening eighteen years ago.
Yes, what a waste of four good tuxedos. Probably rented.
I never attended grad celebrations when I finished high school. It simply was not going to happen for me, and for many good reasons. I think that first and foremost, I simply did not relate to the idea. School was something for me to get through and nothing more. I usually had few or no friends in high school, and being a Jesus freak, as well as being an outlier in other ways, simply kept me at a safe distance from everyone. Neither was I enamoured with the idea of dressing up, or of the celebrations, it was all too hetero-sexist and redolent of every single bourgeois value that to this day I still revile. There was no way that I would be able to participate in that kind of farce. I was also in a different high school, again, thanks to my turbulent family life.
However, such traditions as high school grads are a kind of middle class rite of passage to help prepare the young students to grow up to be passive little consumer- conformists unable to think for themselves or to have a single original thought in their heads, or at least without the courage to live out their truth.
I do not feel that I was traumatized, damaged or in anyway deprived for my lack of the traditional rites of passage during my rather unconventional youth. Rather, I became all the stronger in my isolation while working at my utmost to still approach others in a spirit of loving-kindness and grace.
Which also gave rise to my novel that you are all going to read, right Gentle Reader?
https://aaronbenjaminzacharias.blogspot.com/2014/06/thirteen-crucifixions-2.html
https://aaronbenjaminzacharias.blogspot.com/2014/06/thirteen-crucifixions-3.html
https://aaronbenjaminzacharias.blogspot.com/2014/06/thirteen-crucifixions-4.html
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