time may change me

My good friends, Amy & Johnny, on their wedding day. 5/5/2012

If you had told me five years ago that I would be voluntarily thinking of incorporating Star Wars details into my wedding, I'd have thought you were crazy. Not that my boyfriend at the time wasn't into such "geekery" (which he totally was), but because I didn't think fun and whimsy of the sort had any place in a wedding.

Yet, here I am, newly engaged and designing save the date cards themed after some of our favorite movies, including Star Wars.

My fiance is a different man than I was dating five years ago, but the two share many of the same personality traits, one of which is being a self-described geek. In fact, all of my ex-boyfriends could be described as geeks. I definitely have a type.

And though I can now freely admit to this, I tried for many years to fight it. Geeks were not cool when I was in school. Having been mercilessly teased throughout elementary school and junior high for being smart, I wanted desperately to be cool in high school. My one long term boyfriend during this time was a huge comic book fan, with a soft spot for Captain America. I'm sure he told me Steve Roger's origin story, but I can't remember. At the time I thought comic books were exclusively for children and middle aged men still living with their parents. There was no way I was going to encourage his reading material. Now I'm a huge fan of the Cap thanks to his movie and The Avengers. I also love Iron Man and Thor, and have discovered the artistic genius of Watchmen and V for Vendetta.

The world is now full of celebrated geeks. It's hip to be square thanks to the likes of Steve Jobs and the cast of The Big Bang Theory. All the geeky things I grew up loving are now considered cool: Star Wars, crafting, environmentalism. For the first time in my life I feel completely comfortable in my own skin, and happy to be with someone who understands my obsessions with Harry Potter and Disney. I'm sure some of this just comes with age, but it helps to know I'm not alone.

So the "classy," traditional nuptials I dreamed about in my early twenties have been thrown out the window. Red roses are not mandatory, and neither are formal length bridesmaid gowns, an evening reception, and a multi-tiered cake. I'm a fan of tropical blooms, so orange and purple are definitely in. Wedding cakes never taste as good as I expect them to, so why not serve cupcakes or strawberry shortcake or doughnuts? Short, stylish dresses are now my bridesmaid preference, worn with flats if they choose (You can thank me later, ladies).

All I want is to stand in front of a crowd and marry my best friend, knowing the force will be with us... always. I also hope the odds are ever in our favor, which is not a riddikulus wish.

i wanna sink to the bottom with you

When I saw Titanic years ago, I cried. Before you start to scoff, let me state that I was only 12 years old, and due to receive my first period within a couple months. Also, those the old people curling up on the bed are adorably sad, and if that doesn't at least tug at your heart strings then you are clearly a robot/android/jerk-face.

 I managed to avoid seeing the 3-D re-release of the film, but I couldn't pass up Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition (currently showing at the San Diego Natural History Museum).

The exhibition features objects raised from the sea floor, set among recreations of cabins and period dressed actors for effect. There's even an iceberg. It's very cold.

While I liked the exhibit, it left me with mixed feelings. The Titanic itself is very much a grave site, which is now essentially being plundered for profit. Yet, how many other exhibits have I attended are also filled with plundered loot from the graves of the deceased? Do I feel differently because only 100 years has passed since the Titanic's sinking? Or maybe it's because these are rich white folks?*

Maybe I'm just over-thinking things, as I'm prone to do. The exhibit is educational, and really well done. The bulk of artifacts are personal possessions, making it easy to relate to individual passengers. And maybe that's the point of the whole thing: to remind us that we are not infallible. Our lives are random, and could cease at any moment.


*I haven't seen the movie since the early 2000s, but apparently third class was not as squalid as it appeared on the big screen. You had to be pretty well off to afford even the cheapest cabins. Their menus didn't seem to shabby either.