August 17th, 2004

Roman

Weddings

Today a co-worker shared her pictures of her son's wedding. I gather some photo-fiend of a friend did the photography, and he got pretty creative. He took a zillion pix of the bride, groom, 'rents, grand'rents (do they say that?), and others in the wedding party. From the pictures it looked like this event went on interminably.

There were pictures of the bride getting her hair done, at least a half-dozen of the groom trying to get his tie tied (some with the help of his father), progress step by interminable step to the alter, pix at the alter with rings being exchanged, dozens outside, every imaginable wedding pose, casual shots at the party afterwards, during which the women all wore matching pink sweaters, pix taken at the pond on the property - of the bride and groom kissing...

I hated it. Hated it all. I felt saturated, ill. The constant photo opps, the ceremony done to death, the fact that the groom gave his bride various little presents to open at specified times during the day...arrrgh...I wanted to say to this co-worker, "sentimental much??" but somehow I refrained.

What about this is giving me the creeps? I am trying to get a handle on it. Part of it is, of course, that the whole thing is so contrived, so artificial, so unrelated to married life. What else?
Roman

Taxes

I have started. I have gone through two sets of files and located the tax info for three or four years - years I have yet not filed. I don't have everything yet but it's a good start.

So this serves as a confession. Easier to confess to people I don't know, who've never met me and likely never will, who don't live with me, who don't say things like, "I know what you're like..." or "That's just like you" or worse, "How could you let those go all these years?"

What the hell. It's so funny, my writing that stuff out. The power of words. I wonder why I feel it has a hold on me.