A Wedding-Phobic’s Guide to Weddings

A Wedding-Phobic’s Guide to Weddings

So in case you haven’t heard (which would be tough, because we’ve been all up in your social media faces about it) at the end of May the boyfriend and I got engaged. Which, thanks to the kindness of our friends, made for a bunch of congratulatory texts, calls and emails, making us feel incredibly lucky as well as very smug and accomplished for no reason.

Yet, all this love and support heading my way came with very specific undertones of “Wait WHATTTTTT?!” and, “Whoa…I can’t believe you said yes.”

And this is not because I don’t entirely dig my boyfriend. I’ve been calling my life partner since that first time he oh-so gently and romantically prevented me from diving into a dark lake while high on mushrooms.

He is the best of dudes and patiently accepts me in all of my crazy, and I in turn accept him in all of the conversations about how annoying his hair is today.

But marriage? Nah, it was never really for me.

Call it an extension of my overall paralyzing fear of routine, being the center of attention AND titles, but I had always just envisioned a very casual spending of life together. In my version of our future, we’d just wake up one day, roll over, be like, “Ok so we’re in this for good?” Seal in with a high-five and go back to sleep.

But then I went and fell in love with Daniel friggin’ Lynch.

Dan is the only guy you will ever meet who when told, “Actually, you know what, I don’t particularly need a $10,000 ring or $70,000 wedding” didn’t immediately stand up and start spinning about in a slow motion twirl to the song What a Wonderful World.

Nope. Instead he said, “Aww really, but why not?”

But hey, I’ll give it to him: – for a chick who prides herself of being pretty self-aware, I don’t actually know myself THAT well.

Fact is, when it comes down to it, this whole engagement thing hasn’t sucked.

Everything I thought would be the worst, most self-induced torturous experiences in this whole wedding planning thing have been some of the most fun.

And because it’s been a whopping 4 months and I’m basically a wedding expert now (kidding, I’m always about 30 seconds away from passing out from the pressure of it all), here I present you with Emma Gillies’ Wedding Planning Pros and Cons.


PRO: You get to do whatever you want.

CON: People don’t like that.

Here’s what I learned REAL quick. If you step even a little outside the carefully mapped-out, “Everyone’s Guide to Weddings” people assume you’re going to have a gothic themed day, sacrifice baby lambs as an appetizer, then rock out some vows and seal your marriage with the tears of orphaned children.

When all this engagement stuff went down and we decided to actually do this, my one stipulation was that we did it our way **AKA my way** AKA an informally structured night heavy on the booze and light on all the other mumbo-jumbo.

When people heard that however, suddenly I started getting questions like, “Are you wearing a dress?” and, “What colour will you be wearing” and,“Will there be keg stands and red solo cups?” and, “Is the venue someone’s garage?”

As if just by the very nature of trying to go a little off-script we were essentially lighting the entire wedding industry on fire and cackling evilly as it burned at our non-conformist feet.

We might as well have been planning to make our wedding a giant middle finger to all the other weddings that came before. I would wear a black pantsuit; we would release doves and then tenderly shoot them and their accompanying symbolism from the air with BB guns. Stare at the aghast, horrified faces of our friends and family and scream “Welcome to our celebration of love bitches!!”

Just a little FYI: no animals will be harmed in the making of our wedding, I’ll probably wear white, it will be in dress form, keg stands are a no but I assume at some point there will be a pink flamingo beer-funnel, and the only thing we plan on sacrificing is a tiny bit of everyone’s soul and pride via an 8-hour open bar.


PRO: You get to have a vision.

CON: You have to have a vision.

Related to the point above, a ton of wedding decision making depends on people have some predetermined “vision” of their perfect day that they would like to see come to fruition.

I had no such vision, and Dan even less so. The first time someone asked us (our photographer) I froze and panicked knowing she wanted to hear something like “city rustic” or “hipster glam” and all I could come up with is, “Uhhh… a party for our friends that we happen to get married at?”

This will of course be little help to me when it comes to trying to figure out what shade of peony looks best against a brick background. Regardless, it stuck. Now we go forth making all decisions based on a carefully balanced scale of “Will this increase or decrease the amount of fun had?”


PRO: You get to try on fancy dresses.

CON: None; go do this now.

I had assumed wedding dress shopping would leave me lying in the fetal position delicately clutching a pile and lace and tulle, regretting every carb ever consumed and swearing off the colour white for the rest of time.

However, what I failed to comprehend is that weddings- and especially women’s dresses- are a carefully contrived, booming fucking mega-industry and that all these dresses are manufactured specifically to make women feel like goddamn beautiful angels.

I might as well have been dressed by singing Disney forest animals who draped me in combinations of white lace and silk blessed by Tibetan monks for now nice everything looked. We’re talking about ALL the things being nipped and tucked into the right places.

It’s bonkers, and a ton of fun.

I highly recommend it to anyone, regardless of current relationship status. Having a bad Tuesday? Try on a wedding dress. Getting over a head cold? Pretty dresses are the cure. Didn’t like your latte this morning? Satin and Chiffon will help.


PRO: Pinterest is basically the answer to everything.

CON: I actually just typed the above sentence.

I don’t actually know how the world operated before Google. And I definitely don’t know how people planned parties before other way more talented people planned parties and posted pictures of them for you to completely rip-off.

Here are types of things I’ve Googled since May.

  1. How do you make a mason jar look rustic?
  2. How do you make a tablecloth look rustic?
  3. How do you make a future husband look rustic?
  4. How do you host a barn wedding but like, in downtown Toronto?
  5. Are sumo wrestler suits an appropriate wedding activity?
  6. What wedding dress styles make your arms look skinny?
  7. What engagement photo poses make your arms look skinny?
  8. Should I just workout my arms once and awhile?
  9. Is it possible to have a bridal shower that doesn’t make people want to die a slow death?
  10. Are there wedding DJ’s that aren’t overall terrible human beings?
  11. Quotes about love and Whiskey
  12. What are the best kind of whiskey shots?
  13. What do you do if your boyfriend loves whiskey more than he loves you?

PRO: People expect you to use the word fiancée.

CON: This is an awful word that makes even the best of people sound like idiots. Let’s eradicate it from the human language.

I feel like this word was designed simply to set people in relationships apart from other people in relationships. What a strange, nonsensical divide.

There is no way of pronouncing this word that doesn’t make you sound like an asshole.

Please stop it now.


PRO: People will suddenly become very interested in that one part of your life and ask you a ton of questions about it.

CON: If you’re anything like me, you won’t have an answer to a single one of them.

Life is so weird man. Sometimes I think that if I laid all my pivotal life decision down like a series of dots every single one has been immediately followed by people asking, “Ok but what’s next?”

There’s no stopping it.

When you’re single everyone asks when you’re going to settle down. Find a partner and it’s when’s the engagement? The wedding? The babies?

Figure out one thing, what’s the next thing? You’re ok now, but you could be better and further along and more more MORE!.

When we got engaged I naively thought, “Boo yah! No one saw this coming, this will quiet down the masses for a second.” But then immediately it was “Have you booked a venue? When are you trying on dresses? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T WANT AN ENGAGEMENT RING?”

Instead of taking a breath and just asking each other how life is right at this very moment, we’re all stuck chasing a future that for no reason is always deemed brighter and shinier and better than the present.

Everyone thinks I’m wholly naïve to think that I can bang out 90% of this wedding in the three months immediately preceding it, but here’s my rationale:

The hard part is over.

I found him.

We don’t all fight and cry our way through the relationships in our 20s in the pursuit of one day, or one party.

We do it so we can grow into someone worth spending life with. And then we go out and try to find someone worth spending life with.

It’s all so that one day someone will look at us and be like, “Hey, I like hanging out with you, would you like to hang out forever?”

The flowers and the dress and all those thousands of other small decisions will come. But I don’t want to spend so much time making those decisions that I miss the next year buried in piles of font and twine choices.

I’ll probably have a month’s worth of sleepless nights over appropriate tablecloth shades and string light bulb wattage. But 30 days is better than 365.

So maybe I’m inexperienced, and yes, maybe a little out of my league with all this planning but I do know this: When it’s all over, all I’ll remember is the people in the room and the person standing beside me.

Which brings me to the ultimate PRO: It’s your one excuse to get all the people you adore most in one space for one giant, ridiculous, intoxicated night of fun and horrendous dance moves. That’s what sold me on this whole wedding thing.

Plus, it’s life after the party that I’m pretty pumped for.

 

E.

Love lessons you won’t find on an Inspirational Quote of the Day website

Love lessons you won’t find on an Inspirational Quote of the Day website

I spent a couple of Sunday’s ago at one of my high school girlfriend’s wedding showers. And although wedding showers usually make me want to get day drunk and give an offiside speech to all the grandmothers about how the bride lost her virginity just to liven things up, the time other women spent making miniature wedding cakes out of Playdough did allow me to reflect on this period of our lives.

Three of my good friends are getting married this year, but they’re all these bizarre species of female who have been in relationship with their fiancés for 7+ years. I treat them like strange little aliens they are.

For the rest of us who find ourselves in stable relationships however, it comes from years of navigating the highs and lows of love, joy, chaos, destruction and heartbreak. For those of us who didn’t find our life partner at 15, we have spent the bulk of the last decade dating, falling in love, falling out of love and watching our partners fall in and out of love with us.

So I sat there, looking at these girls I’ve known for 17 years, reflecting on what it is about us now. What it is about these guys, this moment, and this time that has us all functioning in relationships where others have failed.

It would be too simplistic to reduce it to just the two people in the relationship. We are a product of so much more than just a He + She equation.

It’s more like: He + She + Environment + Age + Timing + Friends + Current Ed Sheeran song playing.

I may not be some 80-year-old woman full of sage wisdom with an entire lifetime of experience under my belt. But in my handful of experience, here is what I have learned about love:

 

  1. Love is NOT all you need

We get it Lennon, you were a damn talented man, but you were also so wholly full of shit. I’m sure when hopped up on acid and hallucinating cartoon submarines all of the world’s negativity really did melt away from you. I’m sure in those moments it did seem like life is easy and humans are intrinsically good and as long as you love one another everything is going to be OK.

But I’ve been in love with people, and been lucky enough that most of those people have loved me back. I’ve watched my friends be in love and watched other people love them.

And I’ve watched it all fall apart.

And yes, sometimes life does operate in black and white and you get to reduce this falling apart to one person just really fucking up. But most of the time relationships function in the many shades of grey; we don’t live in an easily polarized world of Hero vs. Villain, Prince vs. Witch, Princess vs. Jackass.

Because most of the time you love the hell out of one another and still have it not work out. Life would be a lot easier if we could just draw out a map or list of where it all went wrong. But perhaps one of the most poignant and adult conclusions you sometimes have to come to is, Just because nothing is wrong, doesn’t make it right.

At the end of the day, the Beatles can say what they want but it’s not all about love. You have to be able to communicate; you have to like each others families. You have to coexist in each others worlds and friendships. You have to be able to battle and scream and fight and then move on without building resentments or holding onto old grudges.

You have to like the way someone chews their food, the way they act when their drunk, the way they travel and they way they behave when nothing is going their way. You have to learn to like each other even when you hate each other.

It may not make for the same catchy love song lyrics, but in this many shades of grey world we live in, love is but one essential factor in a successful relationship.

 


 

  1. You have no idea how you fall in love I assure you, so don’t limit yourself

Very early on in my life I had this idea of how I fell in love. I mean, I only had a few instances on which to build my opinion but it had always happened in this real storybook ideal way:

Girl meets boy; girl is instantly attracted; girl pines; boy shows interest; girl pretends she never actually liked him in the first place; boy says screw it and starts to pull away; girl panics and draws that poor sap in at the last second.

…You know, a real goddamn Cinderella story.

But it turns out; I didn’t really know myself that well at all.

We spend so long and expend so much effort in trying to know ourselves. We start to see patterns in our own behavior and create lists of what we like and don’t like, characteristics in others we value versus those we could do without.

And then we start judging compatibility based on the presence or absence of these traits.

The problem is, when we do this it becomes very easy to reject or dismiss people because we can’t fit them into our preconceived patterns. We develop rules and limitations for ourselves – we will never date someone younger, someone shorter, or someone who works in finance; we will never meet someone in a bar. We will never date one of our friends, or even a friend of a friend. We hold onto the notion that attraction can’t be built, it’s either there or its not.

The most illogical part of all of this is of course that we reject people because they don’t fit the mold, failing to realize that the mold is what hasn’t been working in the first place.

Sometimes life and love is most beautiful in the unexpected. That feeling of being absolutely sideswiped by someone we never gave any consideration to in the first place. Sometimes chemistry isn’t being struck by lightning but is instead akin to a slow storm brewing.

Sometimes that person in the background you swore you’d never date becomes the only person you ever want to.

Rules are for sports and prison. When it comes to relationships, be a bit of a rebel.

 


 

  1. Regardless of the nature of a breakup, watching someone move on is a terrible fucking experience.

There’s this widely drawn conclusion that in the war of Dumpee vs. Dumper, there exists this huge power imbalance, and the person doing the dumping naturally gets the better end of the deal and moves on faster.

But here’s the thing about humans. We may have opposable thumbs and consider ourselves the mightiest of all the species, but we are also so full of massive contradictions, flaws and paradoxes. No where is this more obvious than in the sentence popularized by pre-teens and adults alike:

“Just because I don’t want him/here anymore, doesn’t mean I want anyone else to have him/her.”

We are all such horribly prideful people. Sure we enjoy loving someone, but we also get off on someone else loving us.

So the hardest conclusion to come to is that we are completely and totally replaceable. That, as much as we’d like to believe it, our significant others sun does not rise and fall based on our existence.

Human beings are made to withstand loss and heartache. It doesn’t matter how much we cared about someone or how much they cared about us – They will move on, they will forget, and they will replace old memories with new ones.

They will have new favorite songs that make them think of new people, they will change and grow and breathe and laugh and they will do all of these things without you.

And you know what makes it worse: SOCIAL MEDIA! The first time I broke up with a boy I found out he was dating someone else weeks after the relationship started, over a phone call with one of my friends. And that was it. It hurt knowing he had found someone else, but the news was confined to one conversation – one large but quick ripping off of the breakup Band-Aid.

Now you get to find out someone has moved on in small increments, all playing out its course in public forums. You get to see photos and posts and tweets. There is no quick ripping off of the Band-Aid. Instead it’s like a slow death by heart shaped, kissy-faced emoticons aimed at new people.

We bear witness to our own replacement, and to put things simply, it really bloody sucks.

 


 

  1. Loving someone doesn’t just happen, it’s a choice you make every.damn.day.

Ok so maybe I actually did take this one from a Quote of the Day website.

Most of those websites make me want to vomit butterflies (unless of course I’m going through a breakup, in which case, like everyone else, I throw on a 2001 Dashboard Confessional album and ugly cry to, “Love like you’ve never been hurt before”).

But once and awhile one of those bad boys really resonates with me. In this case, a little gem by Sherman Alexie that goes:

“He loved her, of course, but better than that he chose her, day after day. Choice, that was the thing.”

All of my relationships have ended because I wasn’t prepared to fight for anything. I was too young and too egotistical to think I couldn’t find something or someone else. I was a wandering soul and I wanted to soak up as many experiences and human connections as I could. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to run.

I am not a firm believer in this whole marriage thing people keep pitching me on, but that has nothing to do with the example that has been set for me by my parents.

I have zero comprehension of what it must take to make a 37-year marriage last, but I do think it must mean that when you stand up on that alter and say, “I Do” you’d better not just be concentrating on the, “For better” part.

Let’s be honest, for most of us in our twenties and early 30s, we have yet to really have to fight for anything. Sure some of us have worked our asses off in school and continue to do so in our careers, but the real fights haven’t started yet.

Life is hard and relationships don’t always make it easier. Think of how much you’ve changed in the last decade. Now think of how much you’ll probably change in the next decade, and the decade after that.

You’re going to change dramatically and so is that other person and there are no guarantees you’re going to change in the same ways or in the same time scale. You’re going to grow at different rates and sometimes you’re going to grow apart. You’re going to be busier than you ever thought you could be and more tired than you even thought possible. You’re going to have all the romance and desire stripped away from your relationship at times, and you’ll have to wade through the muck to get back to it.

The beautiful end game is that if you last, if you choose each other over and over again, if you don’t get lost in the muck, then what you’re left with is an actual partner; a human extension of yourself. This other person who sees you for all your flaws and idiosyncrasies and late-night eating habits and still chooses you over all the other humans.

But if you’re not prepared for the worst- if you just love and don’t choose- life’s going to seem a whole lots longer and a whole lot harder than you’re probably prepared for.

 


 

  1. If you set someone free, they’re probably not going to come back to you, but that’s no excuse not to do it.

It is one of life’s greatest truisms that we are at times ruled by fear. In relationships this presents itself as an all-consuming idea that if we walk away from someone, they will move on, fall out of love and find someone else.

We let this rule us to the point that we keep strings attached, text when we shouldn’t text, late night booty call when we definitely shouldn’t late night booty call, post quotes and update our Facebook statuses in ways that are clearly aimed at that person.

We drop crumbs like Hansel and send out these small, almost invisible fishing lures trying to keep that person close enough that they find it impossible to move on.

It is cruel for both parties, and love at its most selfish and immature. It extends breakups and builds resentments. In the process you probably drag other well-meaning people into your bullshit. You break and squash and burn each other until there is nothing left to go back to – just an overall numbness where tenderness used to be.

Growing up comes with recognition that there are different kinds of love. The selfish kind of love is when you decide you only love someone when they are yours, when they “belong” to you. This is the kind of love that needs lures and breadcrumbs, because you feel like that love doesn’t exist unless they are near you.

If you can get past this point, you can let yourself delve into the real kind of love. Love at its most kind and selfless is the idea that you love this human regardless of time, of where they are and who they are with. An idea that you love them for everything they brought to your life and everything they are leaving you with. The idea that you may never see or know that person again, but a part of you will always love them just for what they meant to you once. This is the kind of love that doesn’t begin and end with a title.

If you can learn to offer love like that, if you can concentrate on the lesson and not the hurt, then all that fear just disappears.

Because maybe, just maybe, that’s the way that other person loved us too. And that, when we lie our heads down at night, there’s someone, somewhere, wishing us the very best.

 

E.

 

An open letter to my future self

An open letter to my future self

This week’s been an emotional one. My 94-year-old grandma is in hospital for the first time, after fracturing her hip falling in her apartment. She’s the toughest of the tough old birds – still rocking life solo in her own apartment, doing her own grocery shopping and with a better memory for things that happened 40 years ago than I have for what happened yesterday.

She’s an absolute force.

And although every Christmas for the last two decades she has vehemently declared that, “You’d better not buy me gifts this year, I may not be around to enjoy them” I think in the back of my mind I thought she was some impenetrable conglomeration of cells and neurons, constructed before food allergies and air pollution could take their toll.

I mean she lived through Prohibition for god sakes! I thought she was unbreakable.

Seeing her lying in the hospital, I was faced with the idea of mortality for the first time in years. Lying there, having to be taken care of for arguably the first time in her life, I know she’s not thinking about the bills she didn’t pay on time or how much of her pension she’s spent.

All that matters are the people in the waiting room.

Isn’t that all we can really hope for after all? To have someone to tell our stories? To be missed when we leave?

So being stuck at home all week with a bad bout of the flu, I have had nothing but time think about what I want my future to look like. We all have these all-encompassing goals – get a career, find a partner, have a couple of kids, and try to live without killing one another. But when we picture these things growing up, the goal careers are often hazy and lofty ideals, the future partners might as well be heavily pixelated faces set atop bodies that we move from life event to life event.

So rather than these over-arching goals, I thought I’d take it down to the specifics. What do I really want my life to look like? Who do I want to become? Who will come along for the ride?

Here I present to you, a letter to the future me.


 

Dear old Emma,

How’s it going you wrinkled, saggy little lady?

As I write this, I’m trying to picture what you might look like as you read it; are you holed up in a Toronto apartment in the middle of winter, drinking your 6th coffee of the day? Or perhaps sitting in a hammock somewhere in a different time zone, warm and sun-kissed, letting a tan cover up the stretch marks from that year you accidentally forgot to go the gym?

Have you found any of that elusive perspective yet? Is life beginning to make sense in retrospect? As you’re reading this, are you able to look back and pinpoint one or two big decisions you made that set life on a different course, or does it all just look like a series of small decisions, seemingly inconsequential at the time, that you laid down like cobblestones, building a path through life.

Has life reached some plateau of stability? Or are you still a wanderer: seeking, imagining, free falling?

I hope you never let yourself be pressured into a job you didn’t love. As I write this, even after just 4 months of trying to live the free-spirited, “damn-the-man” lifestyle, I sometimes wake up with the weight of everyone else’s expectations squeezing the breath from my chest. It’s impossible to not compare yourself to those people who have check marked all the boxes in their life list and seem to float around with this blissful air of contentment.

I hope you’ve continued to remind yourself as you’ve aged that you are not these people; that you’ve never wanted to be.

Do you still wake up every morning an hour earlier than you have to, just to have coffee alone, give yourself an extra 20 minutes to sit in front of the mirror and reflect on what’s to come? Do you still smile at the life you lead? Or do you wake up feeling rushed, discombobulated, squeeze yourself into an uncomfortable pencil skirt and run off to some job that you, “Don’t completely hate and it pays the bills?”

If it’s the latter, you’ve failed me woman. You swore you’d never do that again. So comfort be damned. Unzip the pencil skirt, strip off the button-down, and run.

I hope at some point you learned the art of aging gracefully. There is something so intrinsically beautiful about women who can do that. And it’s an art that at 30 I still have yet to master. There’s that forehead wrinkle I cover with bangs, that patch of skin on my stomach I’ve tried for years to cardio away. Are you comfortable in your own skin yet? Have you learned to love your thighs?

Just remember that all the women you love most are those that unabashedly appreciate the beauty of youth. Those that laugh loudly, radiate sass and tell young women how fantastic they look. The ones who are jealous of youth, or worse cling to it in a perpetual state of discontentment and envy are the people you swore you’d never become. Remember how negative their energy is.

Now go out and tell a 25-year-old girl how god damn pretty they look.

Have you popped out a couple of kids yet? Do you love those little life-sucking vampires more than anything you ever thought imaginable?

I think you’ve always known that even in your most unsure of states, when everything seems up in the air, that kids are in the cards for you; even when you’ve had no idea about anything, you know you’d be a good mom. I mean fuck, at age 30 I still pick worms off the sidewalk after it rains and collect humans like stray cats. I have a sentimental attachment to a bag of Skittles someone got me when I had the flu 15 years ago and full conversations with flies when I attempt to catch them with a cup and a piece of paper.

I hope you still value life, and remain aware of your own ridiculousness. The world is full of hard things, but loving your kids… that should always be easy.

I hope you’ve kept your sense of humor and that at some point you learned to drive you weird city girl. I hope you call your parents twice a week, and that you and your brother have really gotten to know one another.

I hope you’ve had serious debates with your niece about the hottest Disney princes, and continue to unashamedly defend your long-standing crush on teenage Simba.

I hope you still go to live music shows and haven’t once complained about it being too loud. But I also hope you’ve grown enough of a pair to walk up to those people in the front row who talk through the entire set and tell them to fuck right off.

I hope you’ve gotten rid of some of your acquaintances and spent more time on the people you value. Life is pretty easy right now, and I bet from where you’re sitting, you’ll laugh and say I actually had no comprehension of just how good I had it.

Growing up comes with an awareness that for some, marriages will turn into divorces, and friends will start losing loved ones. I hope you haven’t watched these things happen from a distance, or merely offered a polite hand and empty offers of, “If you need anything, let me know.”

No, when your people have hurt I hope you have crawled with them through the war trenches of pain. I hope you have sat in the dark with them, cried with them and opened too many bottles of wine with them. I hope you’ve never made excuses of being, “Too busy” to do this. I hope you’ve managed to be better than that.

I hope you’ve been a good daughter to your parents. I hope you’ve continued to love them for all of their faults, idiosyncrasies, successes, strengths and failures. I mean, how could you not? You learned how to love first from them, and this is always how they have loved you.

And then there’s him. THE guy. This live-in life partner that I adore so much. At the moment, when I think about my future, he’s the one thing I try not to think too much about. Like just the act of planning or imagining a future will make it untrue. If you don’t make plans then the plans can’t fail right?

But here is what I know, without having to think about it too much. Right now, the biggest arguments consist of who ate the last of the goldfish crackers (him), whose turn it is to Swiffer (his) and who forgot to turn off the lamp (ALWAYS him). And you deal with these arguments in a health, mature fashion – by blaming him until he exasperatingly caves and leaves in a huff to go buy more goldfish crackers/Swiffer sheets.

This weird little bubble of relationship bliss is bound to pop at some point. The big fights haven’t even started yet; I know this. The ones that last weeks and leave you feeling emotionally numb; the ones that feel like physical pain.

In the past I’ve been a cut-and-run person. I’ve told myself, “It shouldn’t be this hard this soon.” I hope when it came to him, you chose not to run. I hope at some point you decided to dig your heels in, plant your feet and resolve that what you have is worth fighting for.

I hope when you’ve had the big fights, you’ve managed to remember that this is the meat-and-potato eating Scotsman whose grocery list now consists of quinoa bars and vegan protein powder. A guy whose previous mattress was lovingly titled, “The Taco” by all his friends because it was so soft it folded up on both sides, but who now sleeps on bed comparable to a concrete slab because of your bad lower back.

Remember that for every time you want to smother him with a pillow for snoring so loud, there is a time he has brought your grandmother flowers on Easter or huffed his way through a hot yoga class just to hang out with you.

And sure he talks ad nauseam for two months about needing a spring jacket only to never buy a spring jacket, and complains twice a week about needing a pair of brown shoes only to never buy a pair of brown shoes. But remember that he patiently chased you through the woods for 6 hours that time you thought it a wise idea to do a handful of mushrooms at a cottage. He didn’t even try to correct you when you made him lie with you on the gravel because you were wholly convinced it was made of human teeth.

And I’m sure as we get older, he’ll still have two white dress shirts he interchangeably puts on, then takes off, then puts the other on, then asks which one looks better even though he knows you can’t tell the difference. I’m sure he’ll still put his face way too close to yours when you’re sleeping, so you wake up feeling like someone is attempt to suck your soul through your nose. But he puts up with you being a she-devil at least twice a week, pretends almost convincingly to care about throw pillows and area rugs, and ALWAYS leaves the last bit of milk for you to put in your coffee in the morning.

I hope you’ve remembered these things as you’ve gotten older. I hope you continue to realize that all the things you roll your eyes at are the things you’d miss most about him if he left.

I hope you both chose to stay.

I hope you’ve traveled, and slept in hostels long past the age you’re supposed to sleep in hostels. I hope you’ve been so uncomfortable in foreign places it has made you scream in frustration, because that’s when you know you are truly present. I hope you still look homeless people in the eye when they speak to you, and never bring out your phone on dinner dates with friends. I hope you’ve held onto old photographs, but let go of old grudges. I hope you’ve managed to afford an espresso machine, because that’s going to make everyone’s life easier.

I hope you smile at the life you lead, because it really is just such a crazy, messed-up, awesome adventure.

I hope you’ve done all of this, and along the way, I hope you’ve written it all down.

E.

 

Hedgehogs, cold feet and bae: Why writing is not for the easily distracted

Writing.is.hard.

The thing I don’t think a lot of people realize, and what I definitely didn’t consider about this blog business is that you spend a month coming up with a concept and then FAR too long trying to come up with that one simultaneously clever, funny and ironic name that will somehow encompass all your finest attributes and attract people’s attention.

But then, and here’s the kicker:

You actually have to write.

And not just write but write CONSISTENTLY.

That means you have to have original thoughts… like… all the time. WHAT AM I, SCIENCE?!?

This is especially hard when I have the brain of an ADD five-year-old at a puppy farm, constantly going in 16 different directions at once (yet coincidentally landing most often on puppies).

As insight into my very rigorous and demanding “artistic process,” here is more or less my thought pattern on any given day that I sit down  attempting to transform my thought bubbles into something resembling conjoined sentences:

  • The pen I brought is ALL wrong.
  • The Wi-Fi at this coffee shop is password protected and who has the time to get up and walk two feet to the left to ask the coffee shop’s employee for the password? My creativity is directly related to my access to the Internet people, STOP LOCKING OUT MY BRAIN.
  • I have to pee and should walk home to use the bathroom instead of using the perfectly good coffee shop bathroom.
  • I don’t to pee and have had two coffees and isn’t that weird and there’s probably something medically wrong with me so I should go home.
  • How is it SO DRAFTY in here?
  • Weather though, AM I RIGHT?!
  • The people around me are too loud.
  • The people around me are strangely quiet and does that mean that I’m loud?
  • Look at that bird. Man I wish I were a bird… Or a hedgehog.
  • I will buy a hedgehog and name him Marmaduke and life will be complete. *Cue YouTube search for hedgehogs taking baths*
  • It’s the end of January, why is that woman carrying rolls of Christmas wrapping paper? It’s probably really discounted in January and I should totally think of buying wrapping paper a year in advance and WHY CAN’T I GET MY ACT TOGETHER LIKE THAT WOMAN?!?
  • Man my handwriting has gotten terrible. When is the last time I even used a pen?
  • Didn’t they do a study that, like, 4 generations from now kids are going to be born with bigger thumbs because of how much we rely on texting? Can that be true? I hope that’s true because I’ve definitely told multiple groups of people about that study that was possibly just a dream I had once.
  • I am SO hungry.
  • *Checks phone*
  • *Checks phone again*
  • *Checks Instagram*
  • Are people for real with these pet accounts?! *Searches and follows all hedgehog-related accounts*
  • 20 minutes later, still on Instagram: ”Screw hedgehogs, I’m getting a pig!”
  • I think I may be the most hungry I have ever been.
  • You know what’s better than writing? NAPS
  • You know what’s better than writing AND naps? FUDGSICLES…. followed by a nap.
  • Food food food, I love food. Yummy food, get in my belly.
  • I should definitely go on a cleanse.
  • Why do all cleanses involve not eating cheese? I mean, that just seems rude.
  • I mean if you REALLY think about it, if South Africa represented the world food supply, a juice cleanse would be the Apartheid and cheese the struggling black South African. Ipso Facto, cleanses are racist and I therefore can’t support them.
  • Nothing makes me more dramatic than trying to separate me from dairy.
  • Oh man, what’s that song I liked 12 years ago? Come on Emma, you know the song…with the girl in the bee costume? Don’t look it up, just think…think….think….*Google search* BLIND MELON, NO RAIN….BOOM!! Man that was on the tip of my tongue!! (Definitely thought it Third Eye Blind)
  • Speaking of 12 years ago, I wonder what each of the Spice Girls is up to now?
  • If the Spice Girls were formed in 2015, do you think Baby Spice would have been named “Bae Spice?”
  • I still don’t think I actually know what bae means. YOUTH!
  • Urban Dictionary says bae stands for, “Before anyone else.”
  • Bae is an acronym?!?
  • My god I have officially become one of those parents who thinks LOL stands for lots of love.
  • How many times have I used that word wrong? What was I thinking using it in the first place?
  • Bae is also the Danish word for poop… TAKE THAT BEYONCE!
  • I should add, “Creating a nonsensical word” to my list of life ambitions. Somewhere below, “Getting a driver’s license 20 years after it’s socially acceptable” but ABOVE, “Having my nails and hands look like those of a woman instead of a 80 year-old retired male fisherman.
  • I bet endorphins are good for creativity; maybe I should go to the gym.
  • HAHAHAHAHA…. no.

… Like I said, writing is tough.

And this is only over the course of a short, 20-minute period. I am also constantly riddled by some pretty deep, poignant thoughts on the human condition, like:

  1. Trying to construct the entire life stories of the people sitting around me;
  2. Seriously pondering what kind of superhero I would want to be;
  3. Looking up child actors to see what they look like now;
  4. Promising myself THIS will be the week I finally start using the calendar on my phone instead of writing plans and appointments on scraps of paper;
  5. Once again attempting to convince myself I might like hiking.

Sigh.. sometimes it’s really difficult being weighed down by such reflective and philosophical contemplations.

I think the point is, like any other new endeavor, this is definitely going to take some practice. It feels like I’ve set about on this impossible task to rewire the synapses of my brain; to begin to view my life as the stories that comprise it, to think creatively rather than monotonously, and to try and become continually engrossed in a city that sometimes feels like it only breed’s ambivalence.

So this is it, you are my witnesses. From now on I will be centered and calm to the point of being Zen. I will form a long-term relationship with my computer based on deeply rooted feelings of trust and admiration. I will write everyday with zeal, and proudly accept the bad ideas along with the good ones.

And most of all, I will not, under ANY circumstances, be easily distrac….

…..Ooo, just got a text from my bae!

….that’s how you use that word, right?

RIGHT?!?

E.