Watched my best friend (name of David also) of sixteen years knot the crinkly strands of love and amor into the matrimonial noose yesterday in a smokey American Legion Hall. The wedding was Country and Western themed, the beer was free, the food was excessive, the bride showed up an hour and a half late. I strutted a cute bridesmaid named Trita down the aisle. I watched people cry. I heard people bitch about how Kat was only marrying David for his money. I heard people bitch that the marriage will never last. I let my best friend borrow my father's silver cufflings (the only relic of him I still own) to embellish his tux. I started a cake fight with fellow groomsmen Bob and Patrick outdoors. We were dressed up like Marlboro Men who just got back from attending the Grand Old Opry. The Vetrean Hall manager yelled at us Cowhands for hurtling chucked pieces of cake and frosting at each other like snowballs, but all in all, a good time was had by all.
Until I "caught" the garter. Due to maladroit junior high motor-skills, when I played little League coach always stationed me in Deep left field. No chance whatsoever of ever having to marshall your feet, extend your emergent elbow and pray to spirit of Joe Dimaggio that the plummeting white sphere perfectly lands smack center in your trembling mit. When Dave sling-shoted the garter I even had my back turned and it fell on my head like a dead, girly nimbus.
Shit!
October is pending and it's an election year which inevitably must mean that a new rotation of my "cycle" is starting to gradually curve. Tomorrow I get to become a full-time student again. I've been attending classes full-time now for about a year but I've been living off of whatever accumulated lint I've had stowed in my pockets. Now that my loans kicked in, I get a meal plan which means no more living off of Starbucks and stale cereal. I get a few extra pair of jeans, I get to finish (just in time) purchasing the heap of books for the rest of the semester (I'm sick of bullshitting in class) and I get to tell my boss tomorrow that i'll no longer be able to close the library at 3 am every night.
I'm really not a huge fan of the cycle. It feels like I'm trapped. Like whatever recursive loop-hole transipres I can justify with being part of the cycle. I hate that feeling. The feeling that the only way I can harness my life is by justifying it to a pattern. An intermittent design. There's no freedom in that. and I vowed last night that I would hatch out of it. That four years down the line I wouldn't be the same individual that I am today. That I wouldn't remain stuck. that I would grow, that I would hatch, that I would peck my way out of the cyclical shell i've been enclosed in and really find out who I am and what I'm capable of acheiving.
When I arrived home from the wedding and bullshitted with uncle Mike he told me not to worry about it.
"You may never really know why certain things happen in this realm," Uncle Mike said, like a little kid, "Just remember...it continues."
2 comments:
"The cyclic scheme to them is but to Him a stair"
Race ya' to the top of the staircase, sis!
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