A Confession

You know when you’re applying for a really great job and you find out that your best friend also applied for the job only she was hired and you weren’t. Or maybe the two of you thought the same guy at the bar was cute only she got his number and you got a courtesy, “come out with my friend Jake” offer instead? That’s sort of what this is about, just not directly. I realized yesterday that I am dealing with my own form of life shock, unemployment, and that my feelings and stress associated with said unemployment have totally taken away from my girly excitement for my sister Shanna’s wedding. So here comes the confession. And as they say in psychology of human behavior, after I get this off of my chest, things will vastly improve. So Shanna, don’t worry, planned cupcakes will be made in sweetest form.

My sister is fantastic. She’s smart, somewhat funny, and incredibly caring. She sees the good side of people when most of us only see the messed-up, lost, pajama wearing to the store side.

I don’t know her fiancé very well which is why I’ve had dreams about he and his bike gang casing the houses in our neighborhood and breaking into one of our neighbor’s houses and stealing all of his construction supplies. Is this dream unfounded and ridiculous? Yes. But that doesn’t mean that my creative mind is hard at work coming up with off-the-wall scenarios. Not knowing leads to speculation and assumptions. What I do know is very little. Here it is.

My sister’s fiancé has facial hair, rides motorcycles, and doesn’t like my sister’s collectables. I’m not a fan of motorcycles. Quite frankly, they scare me. People die in motorcycle accidents all the time from what I’ve heard. I don’t want my sister to die in a motorcycle accident. That’s not a good way to go. It’s sad and resembles the song, “Leader of the Pack,” the song my sister Shelli and I loved growing up, the one we sang karaoke to at her wedding and hope to sing at Shanna’s and my wedding (should some guy fall for my craziness). I think a healthier way to die would be on a toilet. At least the cleanup would be a bit lighter, right? Less pant cleaning, just the regular Saturday bathroom cleaning.

This fiancé, Mark, wants to wear a leather vest to the wedding. The only thing I demanded of the wedding was that he NOT wear leather, and this was before they were even engaged or planned on getting married this summer. I don’t think he realizes that this is going to bug me for the next fifty years. I mentioned that leather was not an okay thing and he just laughed about it back then. Now he’s actually doing it and claiming, “I’m not going to listen to anything anyone else says. I am my own man.” Come on, Mark. I’m going to be your annoying little sister now. Throw a jacket over your leather vest if you must. Throw on a tie or a bow-tie, anything to take away from the fact that you decided to go with the one choice I (the obsessive-compulsive little sister-of-the-bride) demanded that you not do.

I decided to be passive in the planning process. This kicked me in the face in the end. My mom can’t or doesn’t want to plan a bridal shower by herself and my sister wants my opinions about silly things like which room we should get dressed in for the wedding and what games we should or should not play at the bridal shower. I caved in eventually, realizing that I do in fact love weddings and I do want my sister’s special day to be truly special. Planning is one of my gigs. I love making lists and checking off the list as I complete the tasks. My biggest involvement came in planning the bridal shower. Playing an adapted form of MASH is the best idea, of course. My mom has no idea what this means and thus she has tried to convince me not to do it. I think this the sign of a realist. An idealist would see the idea and think wow, this could be awesome. A realist thinks, this is stupid, we might as well just sit around and open presents. A realist isn’t into finding fun things to do. A realist is too practical for fun.

I want my sister to be happy. That’s the key, right? It’s important that everyone is happy in life. I think her fiancé is probably pretty cool as my parents say his parents are cool and my dad said there is a whole cool side of Mark he has yet to see. That gives me hope. I realize that this strange, bearded man is going to make my sister happy. The main problem is that… I’m having a bit of a rough time. I don’t get why after seventy job applications, I am still unemployed. The letters of recommendation I included were good letters. Aren’t those letters supposed to help people realize how great you are? I hate that this has been my focus for the past two months but that’s just the way things go, I suppose. I would have loved to have a job to go to so that every night after work, I could go hang out with my sister and plan out the silly details for her wedding that although the fiancé things are silly, Shanna finds important. I’m sorry, Shanna. I truly am. When people say, this economy sucks, they are one hundred percent correct. I would say it a little differently though. This economy really, really sucks. And this summer heat is seriously driving me mad in the mind. I’m hoping things chill out a bit, both weather wise and the stress caused by constant job hunting. I want next Saturday to be really special for my sister. I get to wear a cute black dress and I really want a cute smile to go with it.

Tata for now.



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