We really love our hair!
If we are acquaintances, you may get the vibe that I think too much. If we are friends, you know that I get a thrill from giving energy and focus to examining things that are “normal” and questioning how they influence us, hopefully giggling and releasing a “so it goes” sigh along the way. If we are lucky enough to be good friends, you know I use phrases like “getting a sociology boner” to describe how excited films like “District 9” make me, and that I believe increasingly deeply in intentional action and expression. I am detail-oriented, non-traditional and enjoy the art of symbolism, and on top of that I fell in love with and married a man who is my beautiful inverse in personality but identical twin in values. So, why wouldn’t I write up a post about the meaning behind our interpretation of the whole “gettin’ married” song and dance? :)
To keep things short - as short as explanations for defying tradition can go - I’m writing this in semi-list format.
-We got married outside. God is present in the love of our community, our love for each other, the wonder of the earth, and - especially, in my SoCal-lovin’ opinion - the warmth of the summer air. A clearing next to a river is no less meaningful to us than the inside of a church building.
-Processionally speaking, I don’t know if the minister/officiant is always up there first, but we wanted Val there before anyone else because her participation represented the presence of God coming before anything else.
-We had a huge wedding party, 16 deep to be exact. And my side included my best friend Ankit and Greg’s side included his sister Lydia. To us, gender identity, anatomical differences or simple visual congruity are not reasons enough to banish someone close to us to the other side of the aisle. Ankit has been my friend for over 8 years; why wouldn’t I want him standing at my side during an event as important as this? I mean I was lucky enough to have a Matron of Honor, a Maid of Honor and a Best Bro. (This is the kind of friend who sent a txt the first day of our honeymoon saying “bow chicka wow wow.” Come on)
-Since our ceremony was outside, we got to choose our seating set up. We opted to have three aisles. The wedding party went up the side aisles as individuals rather than walking with someone from the other side. There’s nothing wrong with having everybody coupled up, but we wanted to express these people’s involvement and importance to us in their own particular capacities, and this seemed the best way to do that.
-Similarly, Greg and I walked up the aisle at the same time. Specifically, we walked up the side aisles at the same time and after our vows walked down the center one together, just as we went to the marriage altar as separate people and left it unified.
-My dress wasn’t actually white and Greg’s outfit didn’t match the guys’ in the wedding party. My purity, as traditionally represented by the white gown, is no more important than Greg’s - we dressed different than our wedding party because it was a different experience for us than for them, and neither of us needed to stand out more than the other.
-My dad didn’t “give me away.” When asked about this, I’ve smiled and told people that unless Greg gave my dad two goats in exchange, I would be giving myself to my future husband. ;)
-We each had 3 vows that we wrote ourselves. We made 3 promises we knew we could keep and made them broad enough to hold us to a vision for how we wanted to live and be together. It’s been 8 days so far and I’m starting to wish I’d made Greg include, “I promise not to fart anywhere even slightly near your face,” but c’est la vie.
-Our verse was Galatians 3:28 GOD’S WORD translation.
There are neither Jews nor Greeks (funny because he’s Greek and I’m Jewish), slaves nor free people (except in capitalist America where you’re called “wage laborers” instead), males nor females (binary gender identity denies a wide spectrum of perspectives). You are all the same in Christ Jesus. (A loud, grateful Amen!)
-Our first dance was to "Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love)" by Ella Fitzgerald. We chose this song because, first and foremost, we got a kick out of the slightly provocative wording, and because we love music of that style and era, and also because falling in love doesn’t happen once and then you’re set. Marriage is a commitment to keep falling in love the rest of your lives. So are we already in love? Duh. But we also want to continue choosing one another and falling in love for a long, long, long time to come. We promised to never give up, not completely. And that’s what this sexy little song is about.
(Also. Love is sexy. And sexy is “when it feels good to be in your own skin. Your own body feels right, it feels comfortable. Sexy is when you love being you.” [Read Rob Bell’s “Sex God” for more of this brilliance] Greg and I make each other feel sexy, inside and outside)
And now… we just have to live up to all this symbolism ;)
Cheers and thanks for the read :)
I’m looking at you
In the “Cool story babe, now make me a sandwich” t-shirt
The commonly uses
“I raped you faggot”
Your straight friends
The white kid who greets his buddies with the n-word
Who’s OkCupid dating profile describes him as a “nice guy”
He’s just sick of getting friend-zoned
Because being just friends with a woman
Is so terrible
Nevermind the fact that he answers yes to the following:
Are women obligated to shave their legs?
Are racist jokes funny?
When a woman is raped, is it sometimes her fault?
I’m looking at you
guy in every women’s studies class ever
who derails dialogue
About a third of the world’s population of women
Who will be raped
In their life times
“the wage gap isn’t real”
the guy who starts “PimpWalk” in response
a demonstration aimed at ending victim blaming
of rape victims
the guy with the “no fat chicks” bumpersticker on his F150
whos confused why
he cant get pussy
to the guy who calls anal rape
to the one who uses “feminazi”
as a frequent part
of his vernacular
to every guy who has ever thought that a facebook status
about domestic violence
was a good opportunity to practice playing the
to every guy
who has ever dismissed feminism
because it didn’t involve him
to every man who has ever raped a woman
to every man who has ever beaten one
to every guy
who thinks he’s not like those ones
its just a joke
to every guy who is confused why feminists hate him
to every guy
you’re part of a problem
that won’t stop choking us
but tells us
to just breathe
feminist humanist poem
Like, I knew shepherding was a boring job
but these guys really had nothing better to do
Oh my god
this is the BEST THING
I HAVE SEEN
Could not hit reblog fast enough.
you are SHITTING ME
GOOD FUCKING GOD
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
It turns out procrastination is not typically a function of laziness, apathy or work ethic as it is often regarded to be. It’s a neurotic self-defense behavior that develops to protect a person’s sense of self-worth.
You see, procrastinators tend to be people who have, for whatever reason, developed to perceive an unusually strong association between their performance and their value as a person. This makes failure or criticism disproportionately painful, which leads naturally to hesitancy when it comes to the prospect of doing anything that reflects their ability — which is pretty much everything.
But in real life, you can’t avoid doing things. We have to earn a living, do our taxes, have difficult conversations sometimes. Human life requires confronting uncertainty and risk, so pressure mounts. Procrastination gives a person a temporary hit of relief from this pressure of “having to do” things, which is a self-rewarding behavior. So it continues and becomes the normal way to respond to these pressures.
Particularly prone to serious procrastination problems are children who grew up with unusually high expectations placed on them. Their older siblings may have been high achievers, leaving big shoes to fill, or their parents may have had neurotic and inhuman expectations of their own, or else they exhibited exceptional talents early on, and thereafter “average” performances were met with concern and suspicion from parents and teachers.
…oh. This explains a lot.
Well. That explains a lot.
I don’t know how much of this I believe?? But I’ll take it
Procrastination is laziness+ caffeine
of course I WANT to believe this.
‘scuze me as i cry a lot