Mind of Migg

That is what I’m going to call this year.  That’s a good thing.  Rejection is bound to happen when you go out on a limb and try something.  You can’t expect success without some bumps along the way.  Every good salesman knows that getting to a “yes” is a numbers game with a lot of “no’s” along the way.  This is the year of putting myself out there and finding that “yes”.  I’m finally ready for all the rejection that comes with the territory.

But first, a look back at my resolutions for 2009 –

-       Get down to 185 pounds before the wedding.

Didn’t happen, but I did go from 217 to 200.  I made it halfway there, and I’m hoping to finish the other half this year.

-       Give up all soda

This went great for the first half of the year.  I would allow myself only one soda a month as a treat.  Over the Fall, things fell apart.  I’m at a point where if I have more than one a week, it feels like a lot though.  I definitely made progress and I’m going to continue to drink less of it this year.

-       Get Monsoon into production

Monsoon has been quite the roller coaster ride.  It looked like things could happen by years end, then it didn’t, then it did again.  On the bright side, I learned a lot from the setbacks and will give it a serious go this year.

-       Read more books

Success!  I’m reading scripts on a regular basis, and short stories as well.  I even got in a few fiction and non-fiction novels this year.  Looking forward to even more reading in 2010.

I think I did all right as far as resolution successes go.

Back to my rejections for this year.  No writer, or filmmaker for that matter, can sit around and wait to be “discovered” without putting out samples, and continuing to develop his skills.  I’m not going to find an agent, get a fellowship, get published, or fund a film without going out and trying to get those things.  So here is my plan for the year:

-       I will submit to as many publications as possible to get a short story published.

-       I will apply to at least 5 different writing fellowships or workshops

-       I will apply to screenwriting contests

-       I will apply to filmmaking fellowships and contests

-       I will send out query letters to at least 50 agents and managers

-       I will join a writers group

-       I will scratch, claw, and fight my way to getting Monsoon funded using as many creative funding techniques as possible (and good old fashioned, “asking everyone I know to pitch in” methods as well)

This year, I’m going to get more rejections related to my work and creativity than I’ve ever had before.  And it’s going to be fantastic.

Further conversations at Borders

Well, after a month of working, I’m nearly at a breaking point.  I have an intense desire to run away as fast as I can for the first hour of every shift.  I run through a variety of scenarios in my head.  “Should I induce vomiting?”  “Should I just walk out now?”  I start doing the math in my head to see how long I absolutely have to stay.

It’s really not as bad as I make it out to be.  Once I’m through the first hour, the rest of the shift isn’t so terrible.            Here’s a few more thoughts and quotes I’ve gathered since my last post:

-       I’ve been asked this multiple times so I wanted to set the record straight.  We do not “still have” a pumpkin spice latte.  We never had one, so how could we still have one?  Not every coffee shop is Starbucks.

-       If you ask for a round up favor to get the 4-hour validation stamp (minimum $5 purchase) and then don’t put any of the change I hand you into the tip jar and walk away, you sir, are a douche.

-       “There’s a lot of foam in this latte.”

“There’s a regular amount of foam in that latte.”

“I don’t want any foam.  I don’t want this latte, I need a new one.”

“So now you want a latte with no foam?”

“Yes.”

(fake smile) “Sure.”

(make latte) “I have a small vanilla latte with NO FOAM.”

Yes, I’m reduced to passive-aggressive swipes at customers, because it’s all I’ve got.

-       Apparently, “tall” at the UCLA café means “medium”, even though it means “small” at Starbucks.  One of the new café workers used to work in that UCLA café.  It makes for some awesome conversations.  I realize where the confusion is when it starts, but it’s more fun to watch the participants figure it out than to step in and explain it.

“Tall latte please.”

“You mean medium.”

“No, small.”

“Sorry, I thought you said tall.”

“I did.”

“But tall is a medium.”

“No, it’s a small.”

“So you want a small?”

“Yes, a tall.”

“Medium?”

By this point, someone’s head explodes.  It’s happened a few times already.

-       If you ask, “what’s the freshest thing out?” at a Borders, the answer you get in response will be defined as, “the most recently defrosted processed food.”

On the positive side, 95% of the workers are fun, laid back people.  That’s what makes everything after the first hour tolerable.  Also, I’m well on track to winning a $10 gift card after the holiday season.  My numbers are crushing the competition.  It’s amazing the scale of competency at a retail store translates like this: “fulfilling all job requirements = rockstar performer.”  I’ll take it.

Conversations overheard at Borders

I’ve recently taken a part-time job working in the café of my local Borders to help pay the bills.  It’s an interesting experience working for less money than I’ve made anywhere since sometime my junior year of high school.  The things we do in the name of art.  At the very least, it’s been a welcome change from the isolation of writing and working for myself.  I’ve been exposed to all kinds of interesting people.  Here’s a sampling:

“This eggnog latte tastes too much like eggnog.  I can get that at home.  I wanted something with coffee.”

“It has espresso in it.”

“Give me a cappuccino.”
“Would you like any gift receipts or gift cards?”

“WHAT?”

“Gift cards or gift receipts?”

“I get a gift?”

“No.  Gift receipts.”

“What’s that?”

“A receipt to go with a gift in case they want to return it.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.  A gift certificate.  The other stores tried to sell me one.”

“Um, ok.”

“WHAT?”

“Never mind.”

“I want a Frappuccino.”

“I’m sorry, we’re not Starbucks.  Would you like one of our blended drinks?  It’s the same as a Frappuccino.”

“I’ll have a coffee.”

“Venti latte.”

“Large?”

“No, Venti.”

“We don’t have Venti or Grande sizes. (Points to cup sizes.)  Small, medium, large.”

“Medium.”

I’ve been immersing myself in India cinema for the last few months.  Before I go into a full analysis of what I’ve seen and what I think of it in later posts, I thought I’d first examine a comment about a Bollywood movie made by a friend of mine.  His comment was, “it was made for an Indian audience.” It wasn’t said as a complement, but more as an excuse.  It got me thinking.  Can we excuse a level of mediocrity or lower the bar of standards because of the type of audience a movie is geared towards?  And what does that say about our impression of an audience if we assume that low quality is all they can handle?

It would be easy to generalize the movies of any country that mass-produces films like India or the United States.  Do we shrug our shoulders and accept the mindless action and lack of story in Transformers 2 because it’s, “made for an American audience”?  I’m sure a lot of people do, but I don’t.  The thing is, just because a large number of people enjoy action movies, doesn’t mean we have to dumb down all action movies to satisfy the lowest common denominator.  Look at “Iron Man”.  That was a great movie, full of action and depth.

This brings me back to India and the chicken and the egg question.  Do we lay the blame on the audience, for not being open to films with greater depth and stronger filmmaking?  Or do we blame the filmmakers, raised on this low-level standard and willing to produce weaker films that please greater numbers?  If those of us ranking outside of India are rating all Indian films on an “Indian scale” rather than a “film scale” isn’t that a cause for concern?

The last point is the bigger problem.  I don’t think it’s a good thing for an entire set of films to be subject to a different standard.  It doesn’t allow room for improvement, and it creates a negative stigma about that set.  The blame falls on the shoulders of the audience for not demanding higher standards.  The people producing the films for profit are not going to go out of their way artistically if the people in the seats at the theater keep filling their pockets.  I think it’s a terrible thing, both for the art of the films and for the pleasure of the audience.

So I don’t think it’s fair to rate a movie as “okay because it was made for an Indian audience”.  Until those films start being held to a standard of film that is accepted by the rest of the world, they will never earn the respect they deserve.

I have to be very self-disciplined with my schedule since I have nobody to answer to but myself.  It means outlining clear weekly goals and trying to stick to them as best as possible.  The toughest thing about this is that because I’m following so many different leads for work/pay/creative outlets that my weekly schedule is tossed out the window by Monday morning.

While I might plan on say, working at Borders Tuesday morning, and then working out of the home office on Wednesday, I might end up on an unplanned conference call that keeps me from leaving, or end up with a meeting on the other side of town that I hadn’t known would happen.  All very productive, but maddening when trying to have clear, set writing time – especially when you throw in late night dealings with India, since our night is their afternoon.  It means that many times, I go to bed hours later than planned and then don’t wake up for the early morning writing that I would love to do.  With my schedule out of wack, I obsessively try to track my timesheet and hit weekly goals, knowing full well that it’s just not going to happen.  There are too many unknowns from week to week to be able to balance the business side of film with writing, reading, and watching movies.  Something gives each week, but I still wear myself out trying to prevent that.

I’ve decided on a few new strategies going forward in order to give me some peace of mind.

Writing time is set in stone

This is non-negotiable now.  Too often my writing is what loses out to other things going on.  I am going to drag myself out of bed in the mornings, and stick to set writing hours in the morning.  The problem I have is that I usually chase whatever new issues arise as quickly as possible.  That means that if I sit down to start writing, but get an email of an issue that needs addressing, I’ll handle the email first.  Before I know it, a few hours of business work have replaced my writing time.  Not cool for the writing.  If I want to keep building momentum with all of my writing I have to always treat it as a priority.  I can always get to my emails later.

Schedule free time

I always forget to do this.  My mind is mush by the end of the day, but I’ll tell myself I can squeeze in some late night reading.  One, it’s not enjoyable to read as a task when I’m exhausted, and two, I don’t get as much out of it as I should.  It defeats the purpose of trying to do more reading if I’m always dozing while I do it.  Taking time outs, especially to break the day up between business and creative, makes a huge difference.  Knowing that I have some scheduled time to just relax goes a long way in being refreshed for work.

My work day should end.

This is another tough one.  I try to squeeze things in (unsuccessfully) from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed.  What ends up happening is that I slack off or get distracted in the middle of the day, feel guilty and work late, oversleep, repeat.  It’s a vicious cycle.  I think the combination of scheduled free time, and knowing that I have a stopping time will make the hours in between much more productive.

In all, I think these new strategies allow me to be more productive instead of constantly trying to stay “busy”.  Staying busy just wears me out without accomplishing as much.  Hopefully I can apply these ideas and they help make a difference.

The status quo.  It’s a tough thing to change.  It’s safe, it’s comfortable, and you know what you’re getting.  Even when I’m tempted to challenge the status quo, I always fall back on the familiar.  For example, I love Indian food.  At least, I love the Indian food I’ve tried.  Every time I sit down at an Indian restaurant, I tell myself I’m going to branch out and try a new menu item.  And every time my food arrives after ordering, it’s the same combination of chicken tikka masala, palak paner, and chana masala.  I can’t resist.

However there are situations much more serious than dinner that require a challenge to the way things are done.  In particular, I’ve seen this a lot when dealing with films – particularly regarding distribution and independent cinema.  Why does it reach a point of nearly being offensive to some people when change is proposed to them?  The prospect of change makes a lot of people defensive.

It’s interesting that those who would dare challenge the status quo are viewed as either “outside the box” thinkers, or outsiders to society.  One way or other, they’re different.  There was an experiment done recently and discussed at length in this (http://lateralaction.com/articles/computers-creativity/) article.  It talks about the ability of computers to think creatively.  Basically, they gave a formula to a computer and asked it to come up with an ad for four different products.  It also tasked a group of average people to do the same.  The robot’s ideas were voted by a panel to be more “creative” and frankly, they do sound a lot more interesting than the humans’ responses.  The most creative responses were a result of “thought templates” and formulas that took into account a lot of known factors.  That’s hardly “outsider” or “creative” thinking the way we know it.  It’s more like a logical progression that evaluates and critically applies existing methods in an efficient and effective way.

I tie these two aspects together – the status quo and creativity because of the perceived notion that challenging the norm or creating something different is “risky” or comes from a completely random place.  However, the robots weren’t more “creative” than the humans.  They just had a better thought process.  So if your idea has legs – if there is a clear process behind your new idea or process, you’re not a weirdo.  Quite the opposite actually.

I’ve seen recent examples of people determined to stick to tried and true methods in their industry that no longer work.  They refuse to admit defeat; instead plowing blindly ahead determined that eventually it would work again.  They scoff at the proposal of new methods and hesitate to try a new approach.  They might listen to some new ideas, but like me at the Indian restaurant, they’ll fall back on what they know.

I went to a handful of panels during the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival a few weeks ago.  There was clear frustration from both the audience and the panelists about the state of Indie cinema.  The problem I saw was that every approach they suggested, everything they based their statements off of was from the premise of old methods.

Indie cinema is in a serious state of transition.  For those speakers from the studios, there was this idea that certain things were set in stone.  Because those things were struggling, the entire process would struggle.  There wasn’t even a consideration to not use certain methods.  They wouldn’t even think about alternatives that were radically different.  The changes some filmmakers now talk about – collaborative filmmaking, self-distribution, cheaper marketing approaches, don’t even fit into the equation for some people.  Instead they’ll become defensive, and more determined to beat a dead horse.  How does this make sense?  It’s one thing to hesitate when what you know is still great, but what if it isn’t anymore?

Let’s say you have a faucet that’s not working right because the pipe is broken.  Let’s say it’s impossible to fix this pipe – it’s too old.  Why wouldn’t you build a new pipe?  And while you’re at it, why wouldn’t you build a new pipe that’s more effective than the old one?  If it’s time for a change, make it a valuable change.  Those groundbreaking new approaches filmmakers are coming up with are no different than the computers creative ads built from a template.

The ideas required to successfully challenge the status quo come from a place of logic and application of experience.  Creative ideas, such as the ones now shaping the possibilities for independent films are not “outside the box” or fringe thoughts.  They are serious, effective alternatives to the broken pipes of Hollywood.  It is a challenge to move outside our comfort zone.  However, it’s necessary in order to grow.  Sometimes that same meal starts to get a little stale.  Be brave.  Try a new meal.

Networking.  I shudder at the word.  Not that I’m anti-social.  I have no problem going out with friends, having a good time, or meeting new people.  It’s just the thought of events organized for the specific goal of getting to know others for the purpose of business.  They’re never as bad as I make myself think they’ll be, of course.  I get anxious in the hours leading up to it, having horrible flashbacks to eating alone at the high school lunch table and wondering if I’ll end up in a corner downing tequila shots by myself.  Fortunately, that hasn’t happened yet (unfortunately, sometimes that’s a better alternative than the actual networking).

So I went to one of these types of events this week.  It wasn’t bad.  It was a good group of people.  I’ve improved at making an effort at these things.  Smile, eye contact, ask questions.  Check, check, and check.  I’ve read up on this.  Practiced.  Nobody’s told my heart yet, as it still pounds and tells my hands to get shaky, but what can I do other than keep practicing?

There are three problems I still have though.  The first is introductions.  Once I’m in a conversation, things are great.  I’m like a teen learning to drive: if I can get to second gear without stalling, I’m home free.  But sometimes I get nervous and the car stalls at the freeway entrance and then nobody is happy.  So there’s that.  If people can get past the giant, “I’m a little awkward at first” post-it on my forehead, things go well.

The second problem is something I’d call the “dialogue inside my head” problem.  I try to listen.  I try really hard sometimes.  But sometimes, I can’t help but get all ADD with my inner dialogue.  The easiest way to explain how this works is to show you an example:

“This person is pretty cool.  What’s that smell?  That smells good.  I think I’m a little hungry.  Are his eyes getting shifty?  Does he want to leave?  I should nod to show I’m listening.”

I nod.

“Now focus.  What if he asks me what the last thing he said was?  Is it that obvious I’m not listening?  But I am listening.  Ok, focus.  Memorize the next sentence he says in case he calls me out because I don’t look like I’m listening.”

I listen intently.

“Got it.  Why would anyone ever do that?  Would someone really ask you to repeat the last thing they said?  That would be a jerk move.  It’s never happened, but I should be prepared.  There’s that smell again.  Oh my god.  What are we talking about?”

The voice inside my head is evil.

The third problem is how to leave a conversation.  What happens when you’ve had your fill of a person?  Not to say someone’s boring, just that it’s supposed to be networking.  I should be “working the room” and introducing myself to everyone.  But because of problem #1, I won’t easily walk up to another person.  More likely, I’ll stand around for a bit and hope someone talks to me.

“Someone please talk to me!” my inside voice screams while panic starts to build.

I want to avoid that scenario and I also can’t end the conversation without a reason.  That’s when I end up talking to a single person for way longer than intended and know more details about their life than I ever imagined.  Very cool and makes me like that person, but again, not the purpose of the party.  I need to have a smooth exit line, akin to a golden pick-up line.  The best I can do right now is, “excuse me while I…step over here by myself.”  Not a good enough reason to move on.

The mixer I went to this week wasn’t a disaster.  Nobody could hear my evil inside voice, so I think it went okay.  I met some cool people and didn’t make a fool of myself.  Any time those two things happen at event, it has to be considered a success.  My loner tequila days may well be over.

An older lady in my apartment complex died today.  The fire truck showed up first.  It parked in front of the complex next door, so I thought nothing of it.  Then the police car parked in front of our place.  I heard talking downstairs, looked out the window, and saw the owner standing with a police officer.  Figuring it was the perfect time to drop my Netflix in the mailbox, I went downstairs.

That’s when I found out what had happened and who had died.  She lived in a studio on the opposite end of my apartment, overlooking the courtyard.  Sometimes she would have her TV on full blast until late into the evening.  She often looked scared of people, or would shy away from interaction.  I wondered if she was a recluse, locking herself away from the world and only stepping out to go grocery shopping.  As time passed, I saw her coming in and out pretty regularly.  Someone would usually drop her off.  It made me happy to know that she wasn’t the quiet, anti-social, angry old lady of my initial impressions.  She never said hello as she’d walk by, but one time I offered to help her with her groceries.  I carried four bags up the stairs for her.  She seemed almost surprised that I even offered.  After that she would give a quiet “hello” or at least a nod whenever passing.

So it’s not like I knew her.  I asked the owner what had happened after dropping off my movies.

“I didn’t even know.  She died.” He said.

It sounded liked he was as surprised as anyone that it happened.  I stood there beside him and the police officer, looking up at her apartment.  One of the other neighbors was standing uncomfortably in her doorway.  I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been.  I don’t remember the last time I heard the TV blasting at night.  I didn’t see her come back from a walk the last couple of days.  Had it been this morning?  Had it been Monday morning?

The coroner showed up shortly after that.  I only knew because he rang my doorbell.  He had his grim face on and, “I’m sorry for your loss,” sat on the edge of his lips.  I pointed him in the right direction, but it flustered him being at the wrong door.  He walked up, stood outside, looked at me and pointed, “this one?” and then finally knocked again.  A coroner can only knock on so many wrong doors in one day.

That has to be a tough job.  Sure, we all know through “Six Feet Under” that it is, but seriously, you’re dealing with dead people all the time.  He might’ve been laughing while eating a sandwich for lunch and then he gets the call.  When I’m near a death, it completely changes my mood.  For this guy, it means he has to hurry up and finish his sandwich.  How does he do it?

I didn’t want to stay any longer and see them carry out the body.  He was awkward enough introducing himself.  I can’t image how he’d perform bringing the body down the stairs.  The same stairs I helped her carry up her groceries.  One second here, the next gone.  Imagine that.

I had a feeling.  It was a going to be a good night.  I got a little choked up as I leaned against the railing overlooking the ocean, waiting for Violet’s arrival.  I thought about the journey that had brought us to that moment, finally (We’re only three sentences in and I can already tell this post is going to run long and there’s going to be some horrible cheesiness.  You’ve been warned.).

Shayna shouted my name a few times, unable to get my attention.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked.

“You said not to turn around until Violet was here.  I didn’t want to look early.”

I was only following orders.  She gave me a flower thing that I pinned to my jacket and I turned back around again.  The view was amazing.  The sky had cleared up from the day before, the sun was out, and there was a cool breeze as the waves crashed against the rocks below.  I heard shuffling behind me and knew Violet was walking down the path towards me.  I don’t even remember who told me to turn around, but when I did, my nerves for the rest of the day were gone.

Violet looked amazing.  I threw on a rented tux and some cool black Chucks.  None of that helped much anyway.  But Violet was a different story.  Her look would ensure every picture we took that day with her in it would be beautiful.   After the brief pause as we both saw each other for the first time we approached each other and relaxed for the first time in weeks.  For a brief moment I became self-conscious of all the people staring and the constant sound of the camera shutter.  It didn’t matter.  The hardest part was over.  Everything was ready, we were together, and it was time to have fun.

We flew through our pictures.  For the most part, everyone in both families arrived when we asked, so we were able to get all of our family photos done in no time.  We took a few goofy ones (are there any other type?) of just us and some fun ones with the wedding party too.  Then there was a lot of waiting.  It was great that everyone showed up for the pictures, but it also meant that half the wedding audience was waiting around for the ceremony to start.

Fortunately, there were some pre-game bottles of wine that a select group (the wedding party) had access to.  This was especially important considering the food still hadn’t arrived and the rest of the wine was stuck in traffic on the 405.  The minister was ready to go though, and we signed all our paperwork while waiting around.  Our witnesses signed and we were officially married before the ceremony even started.  We were tempted to start the party then, but we waited.  The wine arrived in plenty of time, with minutes to spare, and then everyone was lining up into positions.

Things always run so smoothly in a rehearsal.  They feel chaotic on the day of, but then you realize that nobody in the audience was at the rehearsal, so they have no idea what the final product was supposed to look like anyway.  Two of the ring bearers decided they’d walk up the wrong path and nobody noticed until they were hanging out by themselves in the opposite direction. Laleanne’s face was priceless when she turned around expecting them to be there and saw them walking away: jaw dropped, eyes wide, running to grab them.  It all worked out though.  They found their way in the right direction, Gravy found the right song before Violet made it all the way down the aisle, and we found ourselves at the altar, with all our closest friends and family around us.

The actual ceremony went so fast.  I visualized the paper copy of the words as everyone ran through it.  Janiva and Eric nailed their readings, Lilia’s song was great, and then it was our turn.  I knew I would get choked up, but wasn’t sure to what extent.  When Violet starting sobbing as she read her vows, to the point of pausing the ceremony so she could get a tissue, I knew I was in trouble.  I looked around for a place to focus, away from the tears, but all I saw was the bridesmaids crying too.  The thing is, the vows sounds so simple when you read them.  But when you’re in the moment, and you’re reading them, you truly feel the weight of everything you say.  This isn’t someone you’re just going to live with.  You’re going to have a life with them, fight with them, fight for them.  My voice quivered as I said my part, and it was because of how strongly I felt about what I was saying, and my commitment to Violet.

The sentimental part finished, we kissed and got back to goofiness with a curtsy and a bow before exiting to Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough”.  What followed was a sequence of hugs, pictures, some more hugs, and some more pictures.   The wedding party was introduced.  Sam told us he was going to fall and he made it look like he tripped and completely ate it falling forward as he walked out with Janiva.  It was great.  Then Phil was introduced as the “Best Man” and Audrey was introduced as the “Matron of Honor”.  That was funny for two reasons – one, my brother was slightly offended because I told him I hadn’t named a best man.  You can even hear him on the tape saying this to Datta and Eric as it happens.  Two – Audrey isn’t married.  Not a big deal, but a funny moment to remember.  We came out to “I Feel Loved” the Danny Tenaglia Labour of Love Mix.  It’s one of the greatest remixes of a Depeche Mode song, or song in general, ever.

Then we had our first dance, to Ingrid Michaelson’s “The Way I Am”.  A lot of people don’t know this, but we were planning on doing a surprise dance routine a la “Rock the Reception”.  We even spent a couple hours with Abe and Sonal the previous Sunday trying to learn this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYwFpiwb54Q SexyBack routine from So You Think You Can Dance.  It looks a lot cooler when the Final Four from Season 2 performed it, but that video was taken down from YouTube.  Needless to say, if that dancer didn’t look great doing it, there was no chance we would.  We weren’t even close.  With a few years of dance classes and a couple months of practice – maybe.  But we only had one more day free that week.  We decided to forego the dance and in retrospect I’m glad we did.  With the talent show and all the other silliness it would’ve been a bit much.

Dinner was excellent and Violet and I were able to grab some drinks and walk around for a while because we ate first.  It was so great to see everyone there.  I only wish I had more time to catch up with old friends I hadn’t seen in a while (like Thuy Anh!).  We missed the Minister by the time we walked around, but we heard he indulged in a few Phillips Screwdrivers before leaving.  I disclaimered the slideshow and people seemed forgiving.  Lindsay and Janiva gave very gracious speeches.  Datta was the perfect combination of drunk and holding a microphone.  If there’s a line people cross when someone has to go up and take the mic, Datta made sure to toe it without crossing – the entire time he was up there.  Both Moms gave speeches too and the waterworks started flowing.  We had the traditional father-daughter, mother-son dances and then it was time for what everyone was waiting for – the Talent Show.

There were four acts.  Phil and I started it off with a Flight of the Conchords act – Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros.  We forgot the words, but were able to make up our way through it.  Next was “Fireside Chat with Eric Kneler”.  Eric and Jerry gave a hilarious performance that included an awesome Mexican yell and Jerry in the role of Violet.  Third up was “The Marenin’s Present”.  That’s present as in, “tonight we present” not “they gave us a present”.  It can be confusing.  James had one of the greatest under the breath lines ever uttered out loud at a wedding and I nearly had my back soaked with water.  Sound strange?  Watch the video when I upload it.  I can’t explain it.  Fourth up, “We Are Family” performed by my Mom and two aunts.  They had matching Chucks and costumes and actually sang into the microphones as they danced.  Patsy had one of the strangest wigs I’ve ever seen, so it was no wonder she also balanced a glass of wine as she danced.  Violet wrapped up the show with a rendition of “I Can Hear the Bells” from Hairspray.  She was the only one of the acts with actual talent.  It was a great performance and a great way to close the Talent Show.

The dance floor opened up and initially I was afraid nobody was going to dance.  Violet and I were out there along with Abe and Sonal – and that was it.  Then it happened: everyone slowly started dancing.  Before we knew it, the dance floor was packed and everyone was into it.  Sure it started as the awkward middle school circle, which, by the way, had some great individual dancers.  But it eventually closed up and everyone was carefree and dancing away (even my Dad!).  The lights from the photographer’s flash created a strobe effect around us.  They played Depeche Mode.  Then they played the Black Eyed Peas – “I Got A Feeling”.  I had heard this song a couple of times, but the young ones went nuts when it started.  My brother screamed, “this is my SONG!”.  Lots of people say that, but judging by his excitement and performance, he really meant it.  Everyone jumped up and down.  It was one of those rare moments of pure joy.  Lights flashing, heart pounding, surrounded by friends, family, and a new wife.  Like a living slideshow it was a series of significant images wrapped into one moment that I will never forget.

The dancing had to end too soon.  The energy was so high and it seemed like it was over in no time.  The DJ closed strong, with “Enjoy the Silence”.  Then it was time for cutting the giant cupcake and then coffee.  We took even more pictures.  A giant group took a Claremont Colleges picture.  I hadn’t realized just how many great friends we had from school until everyone was huddled together shouting random locations from the campus as cameras flashed.  A small group of us continued the party at a bar in Redondo Beach.  After all the formalities of the wedding, it was great to just have a beer and relax.  We finally made it back to our room around three in the morning, completely exhausted.  Everyone made it an amazing experience and I couldn’t have imagined it all running more smoothly.  It was perfect.  It was a good night.

The thing is, there was no turning back on the slideshow by the morning of the wedding.  The subliminal sense of urgency helped me get out of bed after a single snooze.  I definitely felt the combination of too many Car Bombs and too much Taco Bell as I sat back at my computer to “finish” the slideshow.  By finish, it meant I made sure the transition from the second song to the third (I had already nailed the transition between the first two songs) was smooth, and that I had enough photos to fill the music.  I dumped in all the pictures I had downloaded a few hours earlier, faded the music out, and hit export.  I was disappointed, but I knew the cute pictures and fun songs would be enough for people to at least appreciate it.

An unnamed groomsmen spent a good portion of the morning in the bathroom, which was fine, because the other groomsman spent his time in the bathroom the night before.  It was good to be considerate and share.  I stumbled into the shower unsure if I had one of my neck headaches that could be a potential migraine, or if I was only a little hung-over.  In retrospect I think it was a little of both.  I had a brief moment of panic at Enterprise while waiting for the minivan rental.  I thought I was going to puke.  Fortunately, we got the keys and grabbed some coffee and bagels and my body felt a little less shaky.

We ran way more errands than a groom should have on the morning before the wedding, but it was nice to keep busy.  Otherwise, the day would’ve felt very long.  We grabbed the minivan, went to Target so I could grab the last of my TARDIS supplies, and picked up the keg.  The keg was nearly a disaster.  I met the wife of the old Korean man I had spoken to earlier in the week.  She gave me a different price than the old man had.  I told her there was no way I was paying that.  Datta told her she couldn’t overcharge me on my wedding day.  We finally bargained down to a price we both agreed to.  I hate bargaining.

I went back to the apartment and handed off the freshly burned slideshow DVD to Shayna.  I couldn’t have cut that stupid slideshow any closer.  I finished my TARDIS and the accompanying note.  I also wrote short personal messages to all my groomsmen to go with their badass gift.  I had a rare moment of sincerity in the notes.  It really did mean a lot to me that they were a part of the day.  At that moment, the reality of everything started to sink in.

The photographer showed up, but didn’t have a lot of work for a while.  I sat trying to finish up my cards while Datta and Sam slept.  Eric brought a little energy (and beers) into the room when he showed up and it was time to exchange gifts.  I got Violet’s first: a pair of Dalek cufflinks.  I explained to Eric exactly what Daleks were in a way only a true Doctor Who fan could.  Then the group left to bring Violet her gift.  I was done with my errands and only had to put on my tux and head to the wedding site.  I didn’t know what to do with myself in the empty room, while I hoped Violet liked my 8^th grade art class style gift.  I paced the room, sat down, paced the room some more, checked my tux, and paced the room again.  It’s easier when there are people around to kill time.

Everyone came back and I was relieved to learn that she appreciated the gift.  If life was a movie, we reached the time-lapse montage point. My dad stopped by for some words of wisdom.  Dave Han brought me some BBQ ribs from Lucille’s for lunch.  We all got dressed.  Everyone struggled with his handkerchiefs and vests.  I handed out my badass grooms gifts.  We stopped for gas, red bulls, and ice.  We nearly saw the bride and had to pull over to let her pass and avoid riding all the way to the site alongside her.

We pulled up to the site and unloaded the ice and a few other supplies we had brought over.  I walked into the reception area.  It was amazing.  Weeks of watching Violet cut, staple, glue, and print had come to life.  I had seen things in bits and pieces: a box of plates here, napkins there, a giant pile of fabric.  But I finally saw the vision all come together.  There were people putting everything together running like clockwork.  Celia and Sophia were decorating the cupcake tower, Shayna, Laleanne and Lindy had the tables covered, and Jerry was pulling out the champagne flutes.  I had a goofy smile on my face, because when I’m really happy I smile without realizing it and my smile is naturally goofy.  I stopped in my tracks to look around at the great job everyone had done.  We were finally here.  It’s sappy, but it’s exactly what I thought at the moment.

Shayna led me down toward the path overlooking the bluff, where I would meet Violet for our first look.  I was ready.