April 10, 2006

• So my cousin’s getting married this month. I coulda gone to the wedding
  - it’s a free trip to the Philippines if nothing else – but you know
  what, I’m not.
  What exactly is the deal with me and weddings, anyway? You know, I
  think that deep down inside, I hate them. It’s not that the attention
  isn’t centered on me, I’m not that psycho. I think it’s because…. I
  don’t care about the people getting married as much as I think I do, or
  as much as I think I should or as much as I should.
  Maybe…. maybe it’s just that I don’t think the people getting married
  really know what they’re getting into. It’s so wrapped up in white
  fluff and flowers, stag and bridal showers, counting down the hours and
  it all leads up
  to
  this
  A ceremony in front of dozens of dozens of people you could really care
  less about and the few people you really want to be there are pushed to
  the back table at the reception and there’s this whole ceremony of
  borrowed words when all you really want to do is look at each other,
  see yourself in the other’s eyes, and know, just know without a single
  molecule of doubt, that you’re home. I imagine that’s what it would be
  like if matter and antimatter suddenly stopped at the same traffic
  light.

  I want my wedding to be one grand party. No fluffy prom reject dresses.
  Tuxedos would be ok, if only to remind me of penguins marching on ice
  mountains. There should be a million flowers like spring threw up, and
  a million balloons like someone gutted a clown. Music and laughing and
  games and pranks. And at the end of the day, I want everyone leaving,
  shaking their heads and chuckling to themselves, wondering where on
  earth they left their socks, and hoping that we procreate, because God
  knows we need more laughter in the world.

  • 3:06 am
  • 3 Comments