I had a sudden violent fit of Wedding Irrationality today. A storm of vexation descended upon me over the save the date cards. Basically, they are great and they cost me nothing (and probably cost my parents very little, if anything), but they are not as good as they would have been if I and the artist had been left alone to sort it out.
So I sat there and felt BAD over stationery. But it wasn’t about stationery. I want to defend myself from any charges of bridezillariness. If you have a project that you’ve thought of and somebody else takes it over and disregards your express intentions in relation to that project, you’re liable to feel frustrated whether or not that project has anything to do with your wedding. That’s just a basic principle of peopleology.
My parents are great — generous, mostly accommodating — but they also suffer from the eternal affliction of parenthood, i.e. the conviction that they Know Better. (This is accompanied by an unfortunate conviction that they don’t really need to explain anything to the kids. I think a part of them is still convinced that we are about five and will get bored of any discussion that lasts longer than five minutes and doesn’t revolve around My Little Pony or the promise of chocolate.)
So it’s hard — and I guess it’s going to continue to be hard — to get through to them the fact that when it comes to aesthetic decisions they can’t really know better than me because those are all subjective, and also when they are going to make a decision about an event in which I will be intimately involved, they need to consult me first! Also it would be helpful if after consulting to me, they actually did what I said. That would be great. But I suspect this is the wedding HOLY GRAIL.
Anyway I feel better now. But I feel a bit bad about the whole thing because of the Architect having to rush the project, and then not getting to control the final look of the piece. That was one aspect that hadn’t occurred to me when I told my mom she could do what she liked about the save the date cards — of course as an artist you want to have a certain amount of artistic control over the end product.
I struggled with myself over the save the dates when I first realised they weren’t quite what I wanted: I should just use them, they are nice enough. NO THEY AREN’T THEY ARE TERRIBLE EVERYTHING HAS GONE WRONG. They are pretty nice. I can always ask the Architect to do me her own colour version just for me to keep if she has the time. Is pretty nice good enough? IS THIS THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE? If you let go on this point, will you end up with a troop of professional make-up artists and hairstylists and a gigantic white dress AND A HELICOPTER SHAPED LIKE A LIMOUSINE????
But I think I will just do the sensible thing and wait till P is here for the weekend and discuss it with him. There is actually a sensible objection to the cards, as well as the non-sensible “MY BEAUTIFUL PICTURE ;_;”-based objections, because it turns out they have been printed on very flimsy material and I’m not sure they’d survive the post. I did a spot of research and it would cost me less than £20 to get a sturdier set printed in the number I need, so it may actually be worth redoing.
But I will only make the decision once I have crested the waves of frustration and regained the plateau of rationality. Stress lah. Truly the Buddha was right when he said attachment is the cause of all suffering. If I didn’t give a shit about my nice picture, then I wouldn’t, you know, give a shit.
I see three potential ways forward.
1) Be Buddha-like in my lack of attachment, i.e. just let my parents do whatever they want and be chill about it.
2) Do stuff secretly, by myself, and don’t let anyone else know about it until it’s already done.
3) Constantly negotiate with my family and friends, be prepared to be ignored, overridden and occasionally mocked for my choices, win a few battles, lose others, watch stress level hit the roof and go to infinity and beyond.
I think I’m going to be #1 with most things and #2 with selected things, i.e. my dress and shoes. Let’s avoid #3. HAH! BITTER LAUGHTER!