I’d like to say that wedding planning is keeping me from updating, but that would be a filthy, filthy lie.
In reality, I’m frequently intimidated by my own blog. I have all kinds of rants or other thoughts that I want to put up here, but then I get too lazy, or indecisive, or self-conscious about posting it and I don’t.
So here we are. Bah.
Every now and again, I think back over my past relationships. Last weekend I was in Toronto, the city of much of my time with the First Big Love, and so of course he was back in the forefront of my mind. He pops up now and again — such is the curse of him as the FBL, I guess.
It’s funny how much influence some people have had on me: my likes and dislikes, my personality, my ways of thinking. I almost think he’s one of the boyfriends who’s challenged me or at least pushed me the most, creatively speaking, since he himself was a very creative person. Maybe it’s because much of our time together was while we were in school, which can be a very creative time, I don’t know.
I do wonder if my past boyfriends think of me, and if they do, what they think.
I won’t say I miss who I was then, but I think a part of me does. That was before I had responsibilities — when the biggest fear was getting this or that paper or reading done in time. I guess paying for school was a fear, too.
Oh yeah — and I worked in there. But it was different. It was work for school money and spending money, not for house payments and cat food and internet access (what can I say, I know my priorities).
It’s taken my some time to get here. Some of my friends were here five, ten years ago. Some of them seem to have had it all figured out pretty early on. Maybe some of us come into the world more formed than others, as it were. Maybe I took awhile to get here, and I certainly took a few knocks between now and then.
But the scars and the hurts and the smiles and the laughs… well, they’ve all gone into the caustic, bitchy, opinionated person that I am. And I have friends and family who like me as I am (or more or less), I have two cats who adore me, and I have a guy who drives me crazy and wants to spend the rest of his life driving me crazy.
So yay for me, I guess.
I want to spend more time on my hobbies. Sometimes I don’t think I have work-life balance figured out. It’s not like my last job, where I didn’t feel guilty spending time at work writing for personal things — here I don’t always feel I can do that, even though it’d probably be easier to manage.
I wish I had a story to tell.
I wish I had a story to tell, instead of rants and frustrations and words that mean nothing.
I guess it helps when people say that they agree with me, or that I’ve expressed something they’ve long felt… yet I want to write fiction. I want to tell fantastic stories — but I don’t have them to tell.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being an author of articles or even twitter snippets, but I want something more, if I can get there.
Of course, there’s a lot to do in the meantime.
In fact, there’s so much that I need two lifetimes to do it in. And there’s the rub.
I guess, like everything, I can get to it after the wedding.
Somehow, it seems the closer I get to the day and the more I have to get done to make it happen, the less I almost want it. It’s a day of everyone else’s wants and needs, and I just don’t care about most of it.
If it were up to me, I’d be getting married in a zoo, with about 40 people watching, and I’d wear a pretty dress and look pretty and eat good food and dance all night. And no one would care if there were fancy doodads on the table, or who was or wasn’t invited, and no one would care about bouquets and centerpieces, and favours and everything else.
Tradition is what you make of it. Wedding traditions are bullshit, almost all of them. Flowers are important to other people, not me. Wedding programs and invitations are keepsakes for others, not me.
And I know if I were to complain about having to do all of this planning and organizing and arranging and PAYING FOR — I’d get told that it’s because I want it. And I don’t. I want to wear comfortable red shoes and maybe even keep my piercings in my ears, and have no mention of God in my ceremony and have ninjas as wedding toppers on the cake if I want. I want my recessional music to be fun and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt because this isn’t there or that is.
I want no children at my wedding, and I don’t want to hear anyone complain about it. AT ALL.
I want the day to be about us and what we want. And I don’t care what they say — it’s not, not all of it. If it was? I wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to pay for 150 invitees. I wouldn’t be girding my loins for battle on things. I wouldn’t be waiting to hear if so-and-so is venting to so-and-so about decisions we’ve made.
And we’ve already sunk money into things, and we’ve already planned things, and it’s less than 3 months away, so it’s too late anyways.
Above all… I want to enjoy the day. I wish it could be the day I wanted it to be. But I’ll just have to make the best of it, I guess. Just… everyone else, stop getting your feelings hurt or involved, okay? I don’t need the extra guilt. Mine is enough — I don’t need to take on yours, too.
Mind you, there’s only some peoples’ guilt or upset that I’m going to let get to me. Probably just my mom’s, in fact. Everyone else is a lot more easily dismissed.
*laugh* Song lyrics that just started up. Lazy Eye, by Silversun Pickups: “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life / but it’s not quite right.” I’d say that’s as good a note to end on, especially since I ended up someplace completely unplanned from my original goal. Such is the risk of stream-of-consciousness, I suppose.