Where I Been (wedding remix)

I'm not a Christian.

I'm fairly certain that's the first time I've ever stated that explicitly. It frightens me in a social awkwardness, how-am-I-going-to-explain-this-and-appear-normal kind of way. The same way that my thoughts on Jesus Christ superstar usually come out....he was a kick-ass charismatic carpenter with a flair for the dramatic and maybe a few Copperfield-esque magic tricks, right? Justkiddingnotreally. Inevitably, when thrown into a religious discussion, I say some variation of the following: "Well, I'm not really religious. But I feel that I'm pretty spiritual." Or: "I'm a Deist with Buddhist tendencies." They are both pretty close to the truth. But in exactly zero ways do I feel any different morally or spiritually than all of my Christian friends, including a college friend who's now a pastor. Maybe not zero -- but you get the point.

The reason I bring this up is that my former roommate and one of my best friends from high school (and still) got married this weekend, and it dredged a lot of this up for me and in terms of "Where I Been" (parts 1 & 2 here and here, btw) has been taking up a lot of physical, mental, and spiritual energy in the last couple of months. Being involved in a wedding, in this case as one of two "Men of Honor", feels a lot like you are getting married yourself. Or at least, you are acutely aware that a LOT is about to change. For K, the man of the hour on Saturday, I'm not sure exactly how much will really change. I think that he's known for a some time that it was going to happen, and I'm incredibly happy for him that it did. Being that close to two people who are committing themselves to each other wholely is an amazing experience. Sitting in the pews is just not the same. Seeing every whisper and hug and gesture from three feet away is just completely different, and not one that I've been so connected to until now. So for me as "passive observer", it seems like a LOT has changed.

The ceremony was beautiful, and in fact, probably the most moving that I've been a part of or simply attended. Having the short-and-sweet wedding these days is the pop-culture equivalent of having a Myspace page for your band or movie -- the ultimate cliche. And in an odd way, it is an odd awesome-ness to have a slightly longer and more formal wedding in this day and age. In this case, it was an ecumenical extravaganza. "K" was raised Catholic. "Female K" was raised Methodist. And the ceremony was held in a Lutheran church. If that's not the formula for massive confliction, then I don't know what is. But somehow, it went off perfectly. And by "somehow", I mean seamlessly. And by seamlessly, I mean, the obsessive compulsive wedding coordinator (probably redundant) would not let her ship run aground, no matter what. While probably 20-25 minutes longer than your standard wedding, it still was rivetting. K and Female K are both from a college that has a long-standing musical tradition. Both sang in the choir at the end with a large group of their friends, who you get the feeling spend a lot of their weekends attending each others' weddings and singing in them. Funny how that works. It's sort of like how my college friends alternatively spend their weekends at each others' weddings drinking. Maybe that's not a perfect analogy.

A great time was had by all, and many of the usual wedding shenanigans were played out including (but not limited to): wedding party matchmaking, soul train line, ahh-inspiring speeches, and of course, driving around at 1am trying to buy three-two beer at Superamerica. Also, 40-yard dashes in the hotel hallways at 4am.

But I digress. Back to the religous thing. It occurred to me multiple times throughout the proceedings that it is strange how in a world where you seemingly only read about religious intolerance these days, it took an ecumenical army to marry my friends, and that was happily accepted and appreciated by all involved (at least, that was my impression). And from a personal standpoint, even though I have never enjoyed the imperative nature and stricture of most religions, I really enjoyed that aspect (the formality) of the ceremonies. It just fit K&K perfectly. There was even a brief communion which I particpated in, after just a brief moment of panic and indecision about whether I would be immediatly arrested by the Irony Police if I chose to participate. I realize that all I really did was eat a piece of wine-dipped bread (I think it was an Australian shiraz -- it had koala undertones), but I was raised Catholic and so communion has a lofty and serious place set aside somewhere in my subconscious. I figured out a solution though. As I asked K later, "I took communion with my left hand, so I didn't really commit to anything, right?"

K and Female K are two of the last of my friends who remain unattached to un-unattach themselves, leaving just a paltry few of us left not filing our taxes jointly. This has never really bothered me in the past, and I wouldn't say it still does, but I think for the first time it is kind of on the radar screen -- just a teeny tiny blip in the corner though. If nothing else, I would like to fake a marriage just for the presents (any supermodels reading can please contact me at the email address on the right, if interested in such a proposition). But sharing something that powerful and intimate, even in the midst of hundreds of your closest friends, has never felt like a more appealing thing til now.

Congrats to K&K.

No Clever Subject Needed

Observe...

Wreckomendations

We briefly interrupt the serial blog-effort that has been my life update, "Where I Been", to bring you a new feature: Wreckomendations. So titled because the items contained within may lead you to wreck your life by enhancing your procrastinatory abilities, as well as fueling them with likeable items upon which to procrast. Your bosses would fire me if they only were smart enough to hire me in the first place and learn of this diabolicalness. It's also so titled because I can't resist a poorly constructed play on words, as that part of my brain that deems things "real funny", "sort of funny", and "don't let people know you think that's funny" is defective.

The inaugural wreckomendation I discovered (once again) through one-time amateur stripper turned novelist/playwright/minor celeb Diablo Cody, and it's the blog of cutie-pie (that's what girls tell me), guitar playin', commercializin', cameo-izin' celebritay John Mayer. I particularly recommend October 10th, where MayMay discusses his (I assume fictional but one never knows) desire to become a professional tanner. Damn, I wish I'd thought of that.

A snippet:
"After graduating high school, I began to book a smattering of gigs, tanning at the occasional backyard barbecue and time capsule unearthing. I didn't make enough money to support myself, but I was able to build a portfolio; a rawhide-bound binder with photographs depicting strangers in various scenes of joviality, and my small, blurry form in the distance behind them. At that time I offered three styles of tanning: Bolivian, the most popular; Infernus, or "Latin" style, rumored to be a favorite of the singer Jon Secada, and the oft-reproached Mesopotamian, which when performed faithfully, calls for copious amounts of ecstasy pills and a very, very large Shetland pony."

There is also a lovely open letter to the fans of San Diego, California:
"I am writing to you this afternoon in regards to tonight's performance in your city. I hereby promise that at no time during my set will I make any reference to the movie Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. This includes, but is not limited to, the pronunciation of the area as "sahn-dee-ah-go", usage of the phrase "stay classy" and any reference to a whale's vagina. In fact, I will not draw attention to the vaginas of any members in the particular families within the order Cetacea. You deserve better, and it's time to let the healing begin. "

Huzzah, John Mayer. Huzzah.

And now back to your regularly scheduled self-glorification and-edification...

Where I Been

Still no native american summer in sight here, and if anything, the weather's gotten worse today. El nino, my ass. Why is there no name for when winter comes early? I'm going with bushmen of the Kalahari winter.

But to continue where I left off yesterday, it has been an eventful couple of months. In July, Chicks and I were "evicted" by our soon-to-be-married friend from his humble home where we have lived and loved for two years. Mostly lived. It was in a borderline suburb, an inner ring if you will, and I for one will miss smoking cigars on the hammock out in the backyard, and the most athletically compromised cat of all time. But I guess you have to grow up sometime. Now we live right in the thick of the action, with numerous establishments serving spirited beverages within stumbling distance. They're building condos everywhere now here, in Minneapolis' new manifest destiny program, "A condo and mule for every urban settler." We got pretty fortunate, I think, to find such a great apartment (1050 sq ft, hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and his and hers front doors) in a really great neighborhood, for a very affordable price. Being a wiley veteran of Craigslist, it wasn't even that difficult. I also found some free plaid paving stones which I will use to tile Chicks' bedroom as a practical joke. He loves remodelling-related humor.

My current one-year contract with the company I work for is coming to an end soon. And I recently recieved the unfortunate news that another temporary position in a different part of the company that I had interviewed for and recieved insider information on (but not in a Gordon Gecko way) that I was first in line for was offered to someone else who was a little more affordable. That was probably the best run on sentence I've ever written. Apparently I priced myself right out of the job, much like Latrell Sprewell. However, not too worry, because things are looking up. I just recieved a new job offer in my inbox from a Lesley Pickens containing an astounding number of exclamation points! Apparently I can make like mid six figures while I work at home. Booyah!

(to be continued)

Time Keeps On Turning

It's snowing.

Weather patterns in Minnesota are about as predictable as Al Gore's weight, and global warming (yes, Al has thoroughly convinced me) isn't helping one damn bit so far. Only days after I read somewhere that this may be one of the mildest winters on record, it is snowing for the first time here in Minny. Usually, this causes a great deal of jumping off of bridges from some Minnesotans, which is good because you want to get that in early before the water freezes. But I personally always look forward to it. Something about the passage of time or some other Thoreau-Walden-Pond-b.s. like that. Call me sentimental.

It's been awhile, faithful readers (if any of you are still left -- or ever existed in the first place), since I've exposited here. A slight case of Twins fever corrupted most of my creative energies, but now that Brad Radke is casting for marlins left-handed somewhere, I've begun to think more and more back to six foot two inches and the good times we've had. When was the last time I posted? ....holy crap, that was awhile ago. So much has happened since then.

(to be continued)