squishisms.com

I’m done. Over it. Tired of being so whiny here. My life is not bad, kids. It really isn’t. In fact, on most days, from the time I get home until the time I leave for work the next morning – I love my life. It is safe and warm and HOME-y. It’s busy, but boring… at least as far as blog-worthiness is concerned.

I am consumed with wedding plans. Everything is the wedding. Every decision I make is tied to this party we are planning. I can’t go more than ten minutes without thinking about it. What I need, or want or could be doing.

And I’ve been trying not to blog about it…but I’ve remembered this is my blog. About my life. And that I can put whatever I want in it.

So, today I feel like sharing a lesson my wedding is teaching me.

I’m just a little on the trashy side… and I like it this way.

It started off as just not really loving anything I was seeing on the traditional wedding sites. Theknot and marthastewart and all those sites have really pretty pictures, and I could appreciate them and the fact that some of those pretty pictures would be PERFECT for this or that friend of mine… but nothing really struck a chord with me. Nothing really felt authentically “ME.” And that mattered to me. And Robbie especially wasn’t into the suit-and-tie-everyone-stare-at-us affair once we nixed the Vegas idea.

And when someone suggested just having a boat party – it clicked. And I wavered back and forth between just getting a white bikini and calling it a day… but ultimately decided that was a little too far into Pam Anderson’s territory for me. But a boat, specifically a party barge, is not the place for a white froofy dress. So I have had to put together something boat appropriate, that still makes me feel special and makes me smile – and the result is… well – obviously a little bit on the trashy side is all I’ll give up at this point.

And I found the OBT (that’s OffbeatBrideTribe, for those unaware), and started browsing their photo pool, and joined the site and began sharing my thoughts and trepidations about this whole wedding thang… and met women who have supported every idea I’ve had and encouraged me to let me be…well, me. As I floundered away from feeling obligated to have the wedding everyone expected and slowing moving toward the wedding of MY dreams.

Through this planning process I have learned to just own up to loving things a little sparkly, a little low cut, a bit overdone, and a tad childish. I like to think I pull the sumtotal off with grace and class… but I guess we’ll see.

There will always be a part of me that loves overalls and wants to wear them in public. I will always love black eyeliner and fingernails that are justatad too long. There is a part that will squee over rainbow colored zebra print heels and take an idea just a tad too far…

But, while we were out this last weekend, Robbie and I picked up a picture for the house – a print of zebras that we both like. We got it home and hung it up and then Robbie told me the reason he likes it:

Because it looks like something from a porn movie.

And I realized he was right, and that there WAS a part of me that wanted to put it in the biggest, tackiest painted gold frame I could find.

And that’s why we’re getting married.

Because, deep down, he’s just a little bit trashy too.

I seem to have lost mine.

I’m determined to get it back though.

I’m tired of hating everything all the time. I’m tired of not believing anything will change, because there is nothing *I* can change.

I can change my attitude.

I will do what I need to in order to have the wedding I want. Anyone who takes issue with that is free to leave my life. I will get my dog leash trained. I will get Robbie’s dog pooping without crying, shaking or hesitating. I will keep my temper in check at work without cigarettes. I will lose the weight I want – because that is how I am going to deal with the stress of handling everything else – with exercise.

I was reminded on Friday that I am not alone. That there are people out there who love me, for me, with no strings attached. No expectations of me. They understand my situation and do what they can to help without bemoaning (or broadcasting) their sacrifice for me.

And because they’re there… I will find my optimism.

There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding… Because, you see, I am not The One – and thus neither is my wedding.

I am not the one to give a flying fuck if you think my invites should already be designed and printed and stuffed into envelopes.

I am not the the one to care if you are offended by my cheeky wording.

I am not the one who will cry if you talk to all your friends about how ‘tacky’ my wedding is going to be – in your most humble opinion, of course.

Get over yourself.

Guess what?

Technically – for all intents and purposes – we are ALREADY married. The purpose of this wedding isn’t to get married. Married is a legal thing – one that friends of mine are not currently allowed – so the MARRIAGE part of this doesn’t so much matter to me. I am not having a wedding to get married – so stop thinking of it as a wedding.

This is a celebration. A PARTY. The first of many that we will host together, as a couple – almost completely on our own financially. So things will happen as we can afford them. And we will take a moment to tell you exactly what we are committed to in this relationship, and then the pomp and ceremony is done.

Nothing formal.

It’s ON A BOAT FOR GODS SAKE.

There won’t be any I Corinthians, or a unity candle or sand ceremony. No toasts. No first dance. No Father/Daughter dance. No garter toss. No grand send off through a rain of rice/bubbles/confetti.

There will be barbecue. There will be electronic music by the best DJs we know and happyfuntimemusic courtesy of our IPOD. There will be bubbles and confetti and candy and fun. Beer. Bikinis.

Doesn’t sound like the wedding that would require raised type on vellum paper invites, does it? Count yourself lucky I didn’t just send an evite. Cause I thought about it. Seriously.

Additionally – It is not the only thing going on in my life. I have a full time job that, to be frankly fucking honest, is NOT going well at the moment. I’m doing the work, literally, of three people more days than not. I also have a puppy to train and work with so he doesn’t eat off anyone’s face or pee everywhere when they come into my house for the rehearsal dinner. I have to make time to lose the weight I want to to wear what I want to on this Floating Wedding Reception of Awesomeness that we are hosting. I also have to shower and clean the house and brush my teeth and go to the eye dr and grocery shopping and I can’t even tell you when I last watched a basketball game.

So – if I seem a bit behind to you… If I seem a bit disorganized… Fuck off.

Yeah, I went there.

Fuck right off. You have no idea what else I have going on or what else I am juggling to try to keep my life going AND planning and paying for a wedding on a budget with one income to entertain and include you in “the most special day of our lives.” You have no fucking clue how organized I am. My LISTS HAVE LISTS. color coded and tabbed and spreadsheeted.

And frankly, if I “obviously don’t have time” to do the things you think I should be doing, when you think I should be doing them – then obviously I don’t have the time or energy to give a fuck what you think about it.

/fin

And now, I go shopping.

There are 127 days til my wedding.  It’s on a boat.  Which means I need water in the lake.  I sent a call out to the Universe months ago asking for rain, and for it to rain through til March/April and then stop.  Since, you know, we can’t have it on a boat if it’s raining.  So far, the Universe has been granting my request.  I have my fingers crossed for March/April, but I have hope that this whole crazy idea might actually work out the way I plan/want.  That never happens to me.

Robbie is still unemployed…still stuck with ‘pending legal issues’ that prevent him from finding a job that pays more than unemployment does.  In addition, when he was laid off, he cashed out his 401K to help tide us over until he found a new job… and we thought that was going to bite us in the ass on our tax return.  But we filed all the paperwork and are somehow getting money back.  Enough to pay for a(n inexpensive) honeymoon.  I really didn’t think I’d get one.  Not for reals…

I got my old roommate hired on at my job years ago, before the babydrama and falling out occurred.  Yesterday, more than two full years later, I received a ‘recruit bonus’ for referring her to our company.  It isn’t much, but it has paid for our wedding rings, and will *just* cover what I need for the scant decorations we are doing on the boat.

My parents sent our Christmas presents now that we are moved and settled.  But the guy at UPS screwed up and didn’t check the address, just printed what was already in the system – so it went to my oooooooooolllld address.  A place I haven’t lived in for almost three years.  But the lady called UPS and got in touch with my Dad to let him know.  She gave him her number so we could get in touch with her to pick it up from them.

We, both as individuals and as a couple, are known for having the worst luck known to man.  Seriously, you can ask any of our friends.  It’s ridiculous.  My paycheck once stopped for six weeks for no reason whatsoever and nobody could figure out why.  My boss had to pay my rent.  We went to Bonnaroo for four days and a tornado went through Austin and battered the hell out of our cars with hail.  We rescued a big German Shepherd/Rottweiler Mix, and he’s the biggest crybaby/scaredycat ever.

Etc.

Since the start of the year I have had my check engine light and my brake light come on in my car.  The house we were so excited about has had to have the repair man come out several times in the last month to fix leaky faucets, and spray for bugs, and light switches, and half the plugs won’t hold the plugs in them, they fall out – which is totes safe, right?  We had to take Bauer to the vet because he started pee’ing everywhere for no reason and was scared to eat.  (He’s better now, by the by.)  UNC is not going to make the tourney for the first time in a looooooooooong time, and that may or may not be partly my fault.  (Shuddup, you can’t say that they still would have lost if I had been at jeremy’s like I’m sposta.)  I’ve stayed mostly sick, with strep throat twice already since the first of the year.  I am still at 200 pounds, even though I’m only eating roughly 1500 Calories a day with VERY few starchy carbs and walking the dog/going to the gym whenever I can find time – which isnt nearly often enough.  And then there is the whole impending wedding I’m not sure how we’ll pay for, Robbie being unemployed, lost Christmas package things too.

But somehow, all the mess seems less important.  Less glaring.  Because for the first time in my life, I feel like the Universe is taking care of me.  Like, somehow, I am being given what I need, when I need it.  And I can’t help but think if maybe the rest of the crap is to balance that out…  And that it’s not nearly as bad as it could be/usually would be….

Any 8 year can tell you what it means, if you aren’t sure.

*ahem*

Xamine Your Zipper.

Now, bear with me for a minute while we skinny dip in a sea of metaphor.

Wow.  That was just mean.  I apologize.  I couldn’t help myself though.  Stay with me.  It IS game day and I might have had some vodka.  I’m getting somewhere though, I promise.

*ahem*

Socrates said “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  I have spent these last twenty-five days reflecting on my life.  Examining the last year in minute detail as I strove to find things to be grateful for that began with certain letters.  I found, as mentioned in the S blog, that there was much more than I expected.

Some days though, it was a struggle – and I let all my ugly bits hang out for the world to see.  One day, in particular, I neglected to ‘Xamine {my} Zipper.’  And instead just spewed ugly in your eyes.

Yeah, I went there.

I told you – a SEA of metaphor here today ladies and gents.

A zipper holds back, hides, the ’shameful’ parts of us.  The parts society says should be kept private.  That society has insisted are Private for long, that it became a euphemism.  Parts of us that, frankly, no one else wants to see without advanced warning, and then may still put the kibosh on the idea of letting all that hang out in the breeze…

My biggest lesson in the last year has been to examine that line.  As I’ve quit smoking and re-learned to manage my emotions.  As I got in trouble for blogging at work because my words hurt someone’s feelings (again.)  My lesson has been learning when to share…and when to simply sit quietly.  To think about WHY I want to say something, and try to do so before saying it.  To determine if I SHOULD unzip… in that moment…that situation.  To evaluate if the good it does me outweighs the harm it could cause another.  And then to act accordingly.

I have learned that when I do this – I find my Xanadu.  I am the ruler of my little slice of life, with a pretty palace near a sacred river.  But it is every bit as fleeting as Coleridge’s Opium-induced vision…  For though I am older than I was, I am not yet wise – and I find myself grateful for my follies – because I truly believe they are what is keeping me Young (at heart.)

And I am grateful for the Zipper that separates it all.

I was supposed to write this yesterday. The obvious choice, however; leaves a bad taste in my mouth….and that’s sad. And it makes me sad. Which is counterproductive to inducing feelings of gratefulness.

I understand that they don’t own Joy. I understand, on a certain level, that it is not something any one person, being, or entity can claim. But, the connotation for the word Joy, for me, now is something ugly and spiteful. And while, in some ways, I am grateful that the events of June and July strengthened some bonds – I mourn the loss of those that didn’t survive the explosion.

They taught me that there is no Joy without honesty. Without accountability or an open mind. And in the last twenty four hours, sitting on this blog, this letter… knowing I couldn’t be True to Me and ignore the letter J and it’s obvious choice of word… I remembered that Joy is a Journey.

And every Journey has a beginning. My beginning was Seeking Sunshine. My Joy, my Journey, started, and will end, with Sunshine. Period. That’s a whole other blog though…for a later date.

And I am grateful for the Journey. And Journey too, but that’s beside the point.

The other obvious choice… is my past. Jordan. I’ve thought a lot about this name lately. Part of the planning a wedding thing, I suppose. I will be taking Robbie’s name – once he gets it changed. It is important to him to have his Grandfather’s name, and it is important to me to have Robbie’s last name. Family is more than a name, but I want that tie between us – for many reasons. This, by necessity, equates to losing my maiden name. My Dad’s name. My family’s name. My name.

I’m not big into the whole “family” thing. I don’t know if it’s from growing up apart from them, or just a random quirk…but I’ve never really got it. My Dad’s side of the family, especially, has not been a big part of my life. I probably wouldn’t know one of those relatives if you stood him/her in front of me, and they wouldn’t know me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my family. My parents and sisters. I do. Very much. Despite their quirks and follies and because they put up with mine, and have for nearly thirty years now. Their choices and decisions have impacted who I am every bit as much as my own. They helped make me, helped prepare me for this Journey. They are part of me. I am a Jordan. And I am grateful that I am a Jordan. And when I change my name, I’ll be keeping that part of me, as my middle name.

I am also grateful for jalapenos, Jack Daniel’s, Jewelry, and my Job.

“Til I Die” now has weight behind it.  The words “I love you” mean something, and it’s legal.  The ring on my finger is a promise already fulfilled…

We went and got legally “informally married” on Thursday.  Texas is one of the few states that recognizes ‘common-law’ or ‘informal’ marriages as a way for a couple to begin their life together as a legal entity prior to the actual marriage.  My employer is one of the few companies that provides benefits for informally, or commonlaw, married spouses.

Since Robbie got laid off and has no insurance, NOT taking advantage of this benefit, (while continueing to plan the FORMAL marriage date and celebration) seemed stupid.

I get all tangled up in the legalese of what the differences between an informal and formal marriage are.

We still have to get divorced if we ever decided we didn’t want to be together anymore.

I do not consider myself married.  Married, to me, means I have publically promised my life to this man.  Legalese bedamned.  Marriage to me isn’t a legal thing.  I understand there are legal implications, but TO ME – it’s more than that.  And THAT is why I say I’m still engaged…not married.  (Robbie would disagree and say we ARE married, but he’s a nerd.)  Rather than saying that the actual celebration my friends and family will be present for is a “formality.”

That’s rude.  And a lie.  It is NOT a formality.  It’s a necessity for me.

As far as we are deviating from a typical wedding, and as much shit as we are getting from people who don’t understand or think we are not taking it seriously…  THAT celebration, that public declaration to the people who matter the most to us, matters to me.  Which is why *I* do not want to run off to Vegas.

/tangent

But – LEGALLY SPEAKING – it is now a hell of a lot harder, and infinitely more expensive, to break up.  And since neither of us is rich – we are officially stuck together.  Til Death Do Us Part.  Or Wins the Lotto… whichever.  :-p  (I kid, I kid!)

web-page and life page that is…

I deleted the other blogs that were here.  They no longer fit here.  No longer belong here.

The purpose of this blog is to open our life up to those who cannot physically be part of it.  And those blogs, those words, no longer are part of our life.

And what those blogs embodied is causing me all sorts of issues.

I’ve been quasi-hiding.

I say, and mean, “quasi” because the business hasn’t been entirely manufactured.  July is always explosive for me.  Busy busy busy.  I’m HOPING it winds down after next weekend…but I’m not holding my breath either.

And I’m hiding because I don’t know what to do.

I have (at least) two more conversations to have.  Conversations that could either make other decisions infinitely more easy, or infinitely harder.

I may have to choose between friends for my wedding guest list.

Can I tell you how much that sucks?  How much knowing that if these conversations do not go well I will have lost soul-sisters, but if they DO go well I will have to choose between soul sisters for invites, blows goats?

Cause it does.

So I’m hiding here.  Kinda.

It’d be more accurate to say that I am reveling in the business that keeps me from making necessary phone calls and from overthinking the situation any more.

And there is a lot to think about…

As I settle into this with Robbie, this life, this home, this family… I have less and less time for bullshit, pettiness and drama.  I find myself wondering how MUCH effort people are worth.  (To be brutal and honest.)  …or if I’d rather spend that effort in exponentially more time chillin on the couch with my fiance and our dog watching the food network.

I’ve all but left the bar scene.  Karaoke is all but a thing of the past, simply because I am not just “lookin’ for a good time’ anymore.  I found my good time, and it’s permanant, and it’s AT HOME.  It is my home.

And I want our wedding to be a celebration of OUR new life together.  I do not want it in any way overshadowed by silent treatments or cool politeness or even -again to be brutal and honest- exuberant reconciliations.  I’ve made my piece with the fact that this is a shitty attitude for a friend who deigns to call herself a “soul sister” to have… but there it is all the same.  I’m nothing if not honest.  (99% of the time)

I want it to reflect our life.  Our life is calm.  It is chill.  It is easy and colorful and not perfect and FUN and silly and revolves around good food and alcohol.

…sigh…

And as I think about what our life is, because I’m planning a party to personify it, I am realizing more and more what it is not.

And finding a lot of clutter.

And, because I’m planning a wedding and merging two lives into one, I don’t have time or space or energy for clutter.

I have a stripped down page.  A new blog with a stripped down topic listing.  You’ll not find me discussing work here.  Work doesn’t matter.  This is specifically for our life together, from my perspective, obviously – since Im the blogger.  And if it doesn’t affect our life together, it doesn’t matter.  And if it doesn’t matter, it won’t be here.

And if it does show up here, because it does affect us, and I don’t like what I see when I re-read what I’ve written when my fingers stop and my brain slows back down… It won’t remain here.  And if it isn’t here…

It won’t remain part of our life together.

I’m turning a new page.  Staring at a fresh, new, white page and realizing that I can limit what goes onto it.