August 24, 2011 § 1 Comment
I stood up at the nuptials of a couple of kick-ass people this past weekend. It was one of those emotional weddings that leaves you in an introspective reflective warm/fuzzy state. A love so celebrated between two people that makes you think you’ve just been privy to some important information that couldn’t be understood by just anybody. That crazy shit that makes you feel and think things to negate your rough exterior, and at the same time fooling yourself into thinking you’re smarter for having realized it. Pure raw emotion that only humans are capable of. Maybe chimps feel it too, there is a lot of partner grooming that goes on there.
Anyway, I’m not a very pretty crier. And to be honest, once I get going I can’t stop myself. There are a lot of things that can add up to a good cry. Stress, exhaustion, extreme situations. Let me explain. Not that I have a stressful job, reality TV is not saving lives, although I hear Intervention and Teen Mom are doing great things. But people in my industry are a certain breed of perfectionists who are pushed to a level of high demand with a short turn around. Even taking time out to lay a good deuce in the bathroom could set you back an hour of work and a heap of grief from your superiors. Not to mention, you could be killed by sarcasm with the volume that’s thrown at you by your co-workers. Taking off for a weekend with a shoot day to attend your best friend’s wedding will get your blood pressure rising and a lot of people passive aggressively lashing out.
Just as I exit this production, I enter into another one. Anyone who says that planning a wedding isn’t stressful has too much money to truly appreciate such an event. The thing itself has so much drama and enough opinions that all its missing is distribution from a major network and a primetime time slot. Add that to a red-eye flight across the county, and a dress that’s too small… well that just makes me the idiot for not taking tissues down the aisle with me. I’m a recipe for a breakdown.
So there I was, standing up there in a row of six watching a magazine worthy bride say some really incredible things to this really amazing dude that will unite them legally together in what they call holy matrimony. I hate that, “magazine-worthy.” It’s a very post modern saying that really doesn’t do her justice. She was most certainly transformed into a heavenly creature to make the moment the utmost sacred of them all. And I’m not normally religious, or maybe I was just sleep deprived, but the atmosphere was eerily celestial. The whole ceremony was starting to feel like a dream, or a movie. Of course I lose it. My fellow maid in front of me is whispering, “keep it together,” and the one behind me says that I’m killing her in between sniffles. Crying can be contagious if emotions are high enough. She tears off half her tissue and hands it to me, I take it between whimpers.
I can’t really say what put me over the edge in the moment. I’m usually a pretty tough cookie when it comes to this stuff, but looking back on the moments leading up, I couldn’t even break the tension with a joke. I think I was realizing all the planning that it took to get me physically there was a bargain compared to what I was fortunate enough to witness. And that my job didn’t really matter without having someone there to talk to it about while he cooks us dinner. That money is just money, and that perfect spot where my head fits on his chest could be the best pillow I’ll ever have. I think I was having an epiphany of what love really is, and seeing the best example right before my very eyes. Or I could have just been really really tired. But I wasn’t drunk, if that’s what you were thinking.
I honestly beleive that being at this wedding may have completely changed my views on marriage. Marriage with the right person, a person who seems made to be in your life, who would give you everything he had just to be with you. I wouldn’t say I was ready for it, but I’d say I am open to it. Really I just need the ultimate partner in crime because I’m all about mischief.
I returned 48 hours later, back to my crazy Hollywood life to tell Mister Red the tale. He asks, “so would you marry me tomorrow?” And I said, “I’m really busy tomorrow, it’s a shoot day.”