“because there can be terrible surprises, however, there can also be good ones.”—eve kosofsky sedgwick, “paranoid reading and reparative reading, or, you’re so paranoid i bet you think this essay is about you,” in touching feeling (via karaj)
REORIENT ALL YOUR FAILURES. DROPPED THREE MUGS ON THE FLOOR TODAY? DISASTER CHIC. WORE THE SAME STAINED SHIRT FOUR DAYS IN A ROW? GARBAGE CHIC. DIDN’T BRUSH YOUR HAIR? TAKING “ARTFULLY DISHEVELED” TO PREVIOUSLY UNREALIZED LEVELS OF GLORY. DIDN’T BRUSH OR WASH YOUR HAIR, FOR THE PAST, LIKE, WEEK? YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL MAGICAL PRINCESS OF THE FOREST, EMERGING BLINKING INTO A STRANGE URBAN LAND. FUCKED UP PAINTING YOUR NAILS? ABSTRACT AND INSOUCIANT. WHO CARES, LIFE’S WEIRD, YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL AND STRANGE CREATURE, W H A T E V E R
i basically need five wedding looks in the next month: one for city hall and the following dinner; one for the hotel that night; one for dinner with our families several evenings after; one for dinner and drinks at our favorite arguably fancy restaurant the evening after that; and one for sunday brunch. thankfully i have accrued several bikinis over the past two years and our honeymoon isn’t until a full month later. still, finding lingerie that is smooth enough to fit under some very tight dresses is not as easy as i thought, even in 2014. plus the tailoring! the shoe repair! as my dad once said, when i told him i needed to buy an expensive wardrobe for my new job at teen vogue, “this must be really hard for you.”
especially since i’ve done all my shopping online: there are net-a-porter bags strewn all over this apartment and every day i feel #blessed that i didn’t even have to walk outside to buy my (pale pink, not white, so chic) wedding dress. but i’ve been wearing bridal lingerie—demi-cup white lace bras with matching thongs, not to mention the transparent lime green lace sets—for this entire relationship, which presents a slight conundrum. (actually, the biggest conundrum is not that there is nothing left to wear—i’m an occasional optimist, i believe there must be—but that there is no really sexy bridal lingerie that won’t give itself away in photos. which normally i wouldn’t mind—evident nipples and straps are so modern—but this is a marriage ceremony, perhaps my greatest and most obvious opportunity to pretend i’m a normal person before i have to attend PTA meetings.) there must be places that can handle this delicate situation; i need to go uptown to get a keratin treatment anyway.
i’ve never had wedding fantasies, so my main style influence is the same as it is for every other event: just a little bit of tawny kitaen. i don’t think this detracts from the transformation ritual at all (“something old…something borrowed”). i’ve got a mood board on pinterest, but expect some pictures.
the greatest thing that happened in hawaii is that marc told me, at least twice, that he would have two kids—not just one—if he could be assured they would both be girls: “i want daughters that just totally adore me.” he also took it back, at least twice: “i don’t think you’re going to want to do that to your body.” i was a beauty editor for a long time; i know who to make any and all body-related appointments with, if necessary.
i’ve been gunning for two kids ever since i first convinced marc to have kids in the first place (third date?). watching my high school boyfriend’s parents lose their child was one of the most terrible things i have ever experienced. “so you want one in reserve?” marc always wanted to know, laughing. it’s been years since i’ve had any reason to believe that wouldn’t be prudent.
"doesn’t it feel like we’re supposed to be driving around with two kids in the back seat?" i asked as we transported his niece and nephew around san diego last month, marc explaining that "i want to sex you up" is a song about "two people in love who are committed to each other" to children who hadn’t asked. it seems that we’re on the verge of buying a volvo station wagon, and i look forward to marc attempting to fill it with just our not-yet-conceived daughter and her many imagined friends. i’m not afraid of a long con.
we were telling a woman we were seated with at the wedding about how our own wedding is just a trip to city hall followed, a few days later, by a weekend with our immediate families. “do you have any siblings?” she asked me, smiling, surrounded by marc’s mom and dad and brother and niece and nephew. i said no.
my ex-boyfriend of ten years sent me a very kind condolence email. it signed off with “love.” i recently told mikki that i had seen a picture of him and that he looks “much tougher now.” she said “well, you’re much tougher now, too.”
“the same old story: not the crime but its heralding turns men page and furious. i know that from my own example. know that we would rather punish the one who names the deed than the one who commits it. in this respect, as in everything else, we are all alike. the difference lies in whether we know it.”—christa wolf, cassandra. (via batarde)
maybe the first time my mom met marc she said, to me, “i think you’ve been looking for someone to settle down with for a long time.” i was floored, though one of the reasons i didn’t want to go straight to grad school after college was because i was afraid i’d get stuck in some tiny, isolated town where there wouldn’t be anyone to date. even my most encouraging professors told me not to stay in school unless i was sure that i cared about my topic of study more than i cared about anything else in life, which was definitely not the case. then again my topic of study basically is my life, so it seems like it’s all working out pretty well.
marc and i have been listening to a lot of grateful dead over the last week. he pointed out that the line “every silver lining has a touch of grey” is pretty deep because, like, it’s already a silver lining and even that is grey. get it? we are currently listening to some work that is a little less recently top 40. “kara, i think this song is going to speak to you philosophically, too,” he just announced. “just keep truckin’.” it’s true that this is kind of our mantra, though when we’re being literal we look for higher end accommodations than i imagine jerry did.