I finally wrote about the wedding!

In the past four or five months, I’ve attended two things that I’ve never attended before, yet I’m sure I will again: a funeral and a wedding.

I just attended the wedding a few weeks ago. What a great, great event. And there is not a hint of sarcasm in that. I can already tell I much prefer weddings to funerals. That’s rather obvious of course.

Yet, what struck me after I left the wedding was how similar weddings and funerals are. And I don’t mean to say that the wedding I went to was very morose or that the funeral I went to was very lively or anything like that. It’s just that both “events” (I’m not sure if that’s quite the word I’m looking for, but so be it) are an expression of love. At the funeral I was at, there were so many loving words spoken about my grandfather, and at the wedding, there were a lot of loving words spoken, and love was just in the air.

I once heard this guy mention how he thought laughter and crying were very closely related, and how he thinks they’re a lot closer then they are farther apart. When you think about it, you often stop crying by laughing, and many a time, laughter will lead to tears.

It’s such a rare experience to see two people so in love, like I did a few weeks ago. And everyone was celebrating their love and celebrating their happiness. And there was no jealousy, no anger.

And at the funeral, to see a celebration of life, and what a wonderful life my grandfather led.

It’s great to see such love in this world, it truly is. Some might call it a shame that we can only express our love at such dramatic events. I call it a blessing. A blessing that that love is there and that we, as humans, are lucky enough to enjoy such a thing.

So even if I only get to witness such love on rare occasions, I’m happy to know that it’s there.


“Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.”

Ain't That A Kick in the Head?

One of my best friends, this best friend being a girl, has a mortal enemy, this enemy also being a girl. Well, my best friend, let’s call her A, told me stories about this “chick,” let’s call her C. Seeing as they are enemies, none of these stories were good stories about C.

Now, I should mention that C is relatively attractive. She’s not drop dead gorgeous, but she’s pretty. And I, a red blooded male, found her attractive. However, my loyalty has a friend was far more powerful and I didn’t consider the notion to even remotely strike up a conversation.

Did I mention that I’m male? Because I think that should earn some understanding as to why I did strike up a conversation with C. Now, now, before you protest and insult me, understand that I myself had no reason to hate C besides the fact that she was an enemy of A.

But, C’s attractive so I figure what the hell? Now, A had told me that C was quite the bitch (that was actually one of her tamer insults) but I hadn’t seen that at all. She seemed very kind.

Until I struck up a conversation with C. Man, what an incredible bitch. Seriously. I understand why A hates her.

So the moral of this story—if there is one—is that sometimes friends do get it right. The more obvious one is don’t judge a book by its cover, or something like that. Well, whatever the moral of the story is, here’s to you A. You called it right.