While walking along Bishan Road back home in the evening, my sister and I recounted all the Awesome that happened today and how they'd be remembered in sepia prints and the gorgeous blur of grainy Super 8 film.
Before this ends up like a primary school essay-writing exercise employing sensational flashbacks in an endearing attempt to reward the reader with delicious drama in direct speech, (As beads of perspiration trickled down his forehead, John said, "Ya! The vegetarian quiche was sumptuous!") I will cut to the chase (ironic considering my use and abuse of parenthetical asides) and say (or rather write, as if I actually had to clarify that, and now you probably think all this is annoying contrived) that (I remember my teacher telling me that my sentences were meandering and convoluted, but David Foster Wallace gets away with it. It's not fair, y'all. I am now being deliberately verbose and delighting in the freedom of unconstrained and self-congratulatory equivocation) Jim and Shari's wedding was, like, in Valley Girl twang now: OMG. Best. Wedding. Ever. If there was a page on Facebook for it I'd pounce on the Like button and then become the kind of fan who posts pictures and seemingly unrelated material on the Wall 24/7. And then write fanfiction about it. And create a Youtube channel for it. And a Wikipedia entry. etc. etc. etc. (Parodying fan culture here. To clarify again: I'm not weird and I want to be your friend. No, not you. The other guy. Yeah, you.)
ANYWAY, and this is a big fat Anyway that ought to be bolded in Comic Sans with rainbow colours because staying on-point is becoming as challenging for me as a geriatric learning advanced parkour, I think this is the first time someone closer to me got married, and the first time I felt so involved in a wedding that the cockles of my heart were totally on fire. And that I was actually in the gatecrashing party at a mansion off-Holland V. For one, I think starting the ceremony with a sock puppet show is a Crowning Moment Of Awesome, and the paper globe lanterns with the fairy lights were genius ways to radically transform the hall into a space that was at once romantic and whimsical, dreamlike and laid-back. (If this were to be a film review, I would end the paragraph with something corny and clichéd, like: This, my friends, was no conventional Bridal Fair wedding.)
Most importantly though — I am really, really, really, happy for them. They mean a lot to me because they are patient, loving, rational, passionate, funny, honest and people who have shown me how God's love transforms and radiates, isn't quick to judge and always, always forgives. (I know I'm corny! I don't care!) I remember the day he told us (the DG) about her, and the time when both of them decided to 'take a break' and we took comfort in His will and His timing, praying about it that Saturday, and now look!— we're skipping after them down the aisle lined with twinkling fairy lights to You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates. Happy sigh.
(Also I was generous with the amount of satsuma shower gel I used today and I'm happy that I smell like a ripe, burstin' satsuma. I am happy when I smell like fruit I love. Unrelated: had some liquor-heavy ice cream after dinner. With cappuccino. Remarked to my dad: "You should try pairing the prosciutto with our gruyere" and suddenly felt self-consciously pretentious in the warm night air.)
No comments:
Post a Comment