yes and

Jul. 6th, 2012 11:58 am
tropiavera: a woman x-rays her chest to display a heart ([❣] the heart is not coal)
People talk about how your wedding day is the best day of your life, and if it weren't for the built up exhaustion and stress, worrying about the order of the day, and trying to somehow talk to all of your favorite people plus a lot of adults you've never actually met before at the same time, it would totally be true. The one that is actually, completely true is how everything distills into small moments. The oddest combinations of people in my childhood home. Waiting to walk down the aisle with my parents and my mom immediately bursting into tears when the processional music started, and me immediately, reactively, following suit. Waiting outside with our officient, watching the sun set, before being announced. Choking up during my dad's toast. Mostly holding it together during [personal profile] allchildren's toast. Introducing all the people I have wanted to introduce for years in many unsubtle ways ("HI NOW YOU'VE MET BE BEST FRIENDS OKAY BYE"). Running after the photographer to get an All Nerd picture. Hugging everyone so many times because I was so unbelievably, uncontainably happy and grateful.

That feeling doesn't quite go away, and I was possibly overly grateful and enthusiastic with many people for several days. "Oh, this soda! Thank you so much, this means so much to me!" "Please let go of my hand." But I am, still, so grateful for everything, that so many people traveled so far, for all of the beautiful, hilarious cards and speeches, for so much love and wonderful big and silly and quiet moments that if I had year I couldn't process all of it.

Dear the universe, with sincerest thanks for everything, love MC Cullen and Fancyman.
tropiavera: a garden gnome sightsees ([✉] prefer to dream)
Back at my parents' place until the wedding. Where's my comedy-of-errors film about all the weird displacement stresses that take place right before you get married? Scratch that, it can be an added dimension of [personal profile] allchildren and my bestselling romcom, "Bros Getting Married", starring Paul Rudd and Jason Segel.

There's a weird sort of deja vu to everything. The next three weeks of my life are more tightly planned than my life has been since I graduated high school, on top of being back in all the same places. Tonight K and I had a parking lot picnic before going to a movie. We didn't actually sit on the roof, as used to be customary, but my car is a lot filthier than it used to be, too. I do this thing when I'm bored in the car, sometimes, where I pretend I'm giving a tour of the area (what, like you didn't think I was a nerd?) and soon I will be GIVING THOSE TOURS to MANY PEOPLE. "Look, there's my incredibly quaint town*" I will say, and they will say, "wait, aren't we supposed to be somewhere else already?" and I will say yes, yes we are.

What I actually want to impart is the feelings of things, so that you can understand what I mean when I say I miss the beach I mean biking down every day of the summer going into 8th grade, and having celebratory cookouts after the school year ended in high school, and summer movies, and skinny dipping, and when I point out my middle school, I don't just want to be sharing that, I wish that you could have been there with me, too.

* Ice cream van not pictured.
tropiavera: alice morgan and john luther ([∅] no one alive can always be an angel)
Because it's the inevitable question, isn't it? Once the initial excitement settles. Well? Are you or aren't you?

I've never been especially attached to my last name. I got the usual round of teasing in elementary school. Many of my closest friends don't know me by that name at all. But still, it's there: this is my name.

Several of my friends were vocally pleased with my choice not to bow to the man. My sister just got married and didn't; my mother did both times she married. At a recent engagement party (not mine), the groom-to-be's mother made nametags and made mine out to Tropie Hislastname (and in fact sent the invitation to Mr & Mrs Hislastname).

Only a few of my friends' mothers had their maiden names when I was a kid, and I remember it always being a thing if I accidentally used the wrong name. What does it matter, I always thought. They still knew who I meant, and after all, what other purpose do names serve.

Personally, at least, it's also this one: this is me. There was myself before, and there will be myself then, too. Despite the (I'm sure) constant misnaming I'm in for: this is me.


tropiavera: Margaret Olson (Default)
the once and future tropie

February 2014



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