The Wedding Planner (I’m J. Lo)

I love songs about the wonders of the universe – the big, mysterious treasures of our world – that include a sweetheart. I love Jens Lekman’s “How We Met, the Long Version” that begins at the big bang and ends with a first kiss. I love Kacey Musgrave’s discussion of photosynthesis, neon fish, “and then there is you.” I love it when Brian Wilson sings that you’ll never need to doubt his love, “as long as there are stars above you.”

So I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise when I tell you that I’m a romantic. When I met Sam, I was completely burnt out on online dating, on hopes up and hopes in the trash, and on opening myself up to the possibility of a real partnership. Our relationship was a slow burn (Kacey Musgraves again), but once he pried my heart open with a crowbar (which included homemade steak dinners, feats of courage, and open-minded listening), I’ve been hooked ever since.

In addition to being a romantic, I love a project. I’ve painted series such as heroines, online cats, and myself; I’ve done cooking projects like learning to cook all my favorite soups from Soupbox; and I’ve made something every day of a whole year. I love a list to color-code and cross-reference. I love to X things off and add bullet points.

I am not, however, someone who grew up with elaborate daydreams about my wedding. I did ask my mom if I could wear a green pantsuit (yes) and if I could marry my favorite person (her – and no), but that was the extent of it. As a dedicated daydreamer, romantic, and project planner, my enthusiasm about my own wedding came along with our (mutually agreed upon) engagement. Suddenly, a big ole party to plan with all my favorite people and my most favorite person of all. No cats allowed, unfortunately.

Wedding planning has become a way to deal with my anxiety and burnout from daily life (the grind, the news, the World Cup, etc.). It also causes a little of the anxiety, but then it again soothes the anxiety, like a snake eating its own tail. Wedding planning has become part of my expression of creativity and my self-care, and much of what I’ve learned can carry over to any big, explosive life situation – be it good or bad:

  1. Choose a menial task that brings you joy when things stop being fun

For me that’s been making pom poms. Lord, do I love a pom pom. The pom pom making came about from my anxiety about living flowers. That’s right, baby – I can conjure anxiety from just about anything, first of all, nature. In an effort to limit the amount of blooms we’ll be paying for and arranging feverishly right before the big day, I wanted a long-term DIY project that could be a little more representative of our style and values. I’ve made about 100 so far, and found myself wrapping colored yarn around the pom pom contraption after my (second – not my fault) car accident in as many months. Something fun can come from my negative energy, and the fun can help dissipate the bad mojo.

  1. Give your money to people who seem cool

When we started our venue hunt, there was one place that seemed like the clear winner. It was psychedelic, beautiful, quirky, strange, and large. It was the weirdest place I could imagine getting married in Austin, and I had to have it. The man who showed us around was delightful, but extremely hands off. He didn’t care to know about us as people or our vision, and he certainly wouldn’t be there on that day. Sam encouraged me to be open to other places, so we trudged down a gravel driveway toward Tiny T’s ranch house to meet Spike.

Spike told us incredible stories of fun and love that had taken place on the ranch. She showed us wedding albums and showed us her home. She introduced us to her horses and asked about us. She told us the incredible story of the tiny chapel that sits in the pasture. She is a writer (like us!) and a lover of love (like us!). She was open and accommodating. We shut the door to the ranch house, looked at each other, and said, “That’s the one.”

Meeting with Spike helped cement the philosophy of my wedding planning that had been floating around in my conversations with Sam. Not only are the vows, playlist, centerpieces, food, and wedding party a reflection of our life together – so are the people we give our money to. These are the people who aren’t family or friends, but are so intimately connected to us that it should absolutely be someone who wants to get to know us and who is excited about what we want to do. People who take your spark of excitement and light their own are so important to your projects. We used this rubric to pick a wedding coordinator, photographer, and party. So far, so good!

P.S.

For me, this means hiring a lot of women who are vouched for by other women. Incorporating women into your wedding is one feminist wedding tip from our amazing photographer Diana Ascarrunz.

  1. Ask for help

This is a hard one for me. I’m not a control freak (I’m a control friend) but I do often feel like, if I need to get something done, the most reliable person I know is my damn self. I’ve asked for Sam’s help with all manner of things, and he’s always game, as my partner in planning. The harder part for me is asking for favors, discounts, and money (surprise: a state of Texas employee cannot pay for the wedding of the frickin’ century on her astronomical, Elon Musk salary).

So far, I’ve learned that my instinct to ask for lower prices is a good one. People understand all too well that weddings are expensive and they do what they can to help, especially if you’re planning far ahead.

I have an army of creative friends I can’t wait to ask for help as I take on more and more idiotic DIYs while living in a one bedroom!

  1. Give it a day

Lord, I am bad at this one. When I want something, I want it. Right. Now. But that’s why I have a Sam. He has a rule of threes – we have to pursue three options before deciding on anything big ticket. This has made all the difference. This is a double lesson: listen to your collaborators and hold your horses.

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Woo! That’s me getting over my big fear of oversharing about wedding planning. I’m so open to all of your tips about wedding planning, big projects, collaborating, hiring helpers, ETC. and on and on forever. Please give them to me!

Let’s Get Out of This Country

Yesterday, one of my all-time favorite albums, Let’s Get Out of This Country by Camera Obscura, turned 12. In 2006, I was a fresh college student. I had spent the last couple of years in my hometown not hiding the fact that I was too cool for the suburbs (my Myspace profile song was “Get Me Away from Here, I’m Dying” by Belle & Sebastian, subtly). For all my complaining, I had the hardest time fitting in in college, missed my home friends dearly, and figured out maybe it wasn’t a place I was trying to get away from – it was me.

Camera Obscura hit me like a ton of bricks with Let’s Get Out of This Country. Sweeping strings and cheerful melodies and lyrics about trying your damndest to be happy – what more could an 18-year-old need?

I’ve tried to excerpt the title track’s lyrics in some meaningful way, but honestly, listen to it. If it doesn’t remind you of the ache of being a teenager, driving past cornfields, and wanting someone’s affection and validation so badly it hurts, I’ll give you your money back. Tracyanne Campbell, the most perfect twee frontperson since Stuart Murdoch, sings, “Let’s get out of this country / I’ll admit, I’m bored with me.”

I told myself this summer, I’m going to celebrate where I am. I’m going to love my home, my body, my partner, my city, my pool, and my work. I’m going to read my story as something new and fresh, a soon-to-be bestseller, a beach read instead of a murder mystery or an atmospheric modernist novella. I’m going to use the ingredients I have to make something great. Like Pam on The Office, I get 3 additional vacation days plunked into my account on June 1st – and I always want to keep my pretties safe, for a trip to Bermuda or a long weekend in the Hill Country, ya know? However, just like Pam, I made it exactly -4 days before deciding to take my vacation days and get the hell out of Dodge. When the anniversary of my favorite album came around right as I booked our tickets, I felt 18 again. “Let’s get out of this country / I have been so unhappy / Smell the jasmine, my head will turn.” It’s time for travel to turn my head right around.

Sam and I are headed back to Chicago, my first time showing him around in the sweet spot of July, when it’s perpetually a little hot, a little drunk, and little late to be walking home at night. Instead of plowing headfirst into the Malört, I want to be able to bring back something fresh from the garden of Chicago to add to the metaphorical spice kitchen of my Austin life. I want to find a cathedral. I want to be dislodged like I was when I was 18.

I have made countless aspirational lists, small goals and big goals, to-dos and to-don’ts. So instead, I’ve decided to pursue feelings. If I’m going to get out of this country (because Texas is a country, right?), I’m going to get something out of it that can last me through the fall.

Freedom

By all accounts, I have a lot of freedom. I can tweak my work schedule to come home at 4.30 pm to sit by the pool. I have lax painting deadlines and seemingly endless free time. Why don’t I feel free? A lot of this is the pressure I put on myself, and some of it is my good pal mental illness. I always feel like I should be doing something – a pathology that a therapist pointed out to me years ago. “You do know that you don’t have to do everything, right?” Reader, I didn’t. I didn’t know. Being an adult meant getting my chores done, having a fulfilling social life, working my butt off at my art, and having big goals and aspirations. So, this summer, something new: no daily quotas. If I get nothing done, well, so be it. If I paint the last supper in one go, so be it. Both things have equal weight. The days I do nothing give me the fuel for the days I do something. I’m going to pursue that summer feeling.

Fun

One of my least favorite phrases in the “English” language is “the Summertime Chi.” Please god, why? However, the concept has a name for a reason. Summer in Chicago cannot be paralleled.

Street festival after music festival after late night patio after beach afternoon after boat ride after free day at the museum – and then it’s over. Austin doesn’t always feel this way. I feel like I’m dragging people out of their A/C. I feel like I’m searching out the next thing to do, instead of it plopping into my lap. I am hoping my trip to Chicago gives me that boost to chase fun, by any means necessary: to say “screw it” to my problems when it means a hot sauce festival, or a comedy show, or a swimming hole.

Peace

I’ve been hiding out. I’ve been radio silent on the blog. Why? I’m afraid to bore everyone around me with the one thing that really sparks enthusiasm from me this year: our wedding. I’ve always loved weddings, but many of my friends aren’t shy about their negative opinions of weddings, marriage, and the wedding industrial complex. Fam, the wedding industrial complex is only as strong as you want it to be. So while my IRL vocal vomit of excitement over Save the Dates and dresses and DIY projects has been a leaky tap, I’ve been shy about writing about it here.

I hope to find peace with my passion over this event and this union and to share something that has me creatively inspired. I hope to not be my own worst critic. I hope to fight the strongest bit of the wedding industrial complex for me, which is the backlash that makes me ashamed. I love color-coded spreadsheets and shoe shopping. When Campbell sang, “Find a cathedral so you can convince me I am pretty,” I felt that. Convince me I’m worthy. But, well, fuck it. I’m worthy, full stop. I want to find peace in knowing that who I am and what I do is only as important and valid as I decide it is! I’ve decided it is.

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The holy trilogy of summer feelings: Freedom, fun, and peace. Sometimes, what I have isn’t quite enough. What I need is a new set of priorities, and I hope I find them in the Summertime Chi – or maybe in a 12-year-old summer soundtrack.