in which I use my insane geekery to feel awesome instead of stressed
I am, in many ways, rather weird. And while I knew this already, this whole wedding thing keeps finding ways to remind me.
It's slightly surreal to find yourself locked in a two-hour argument about precisely how many minutes the speeches will go for, and exactly who is going to speak in which order, when you know perfectly well that you do not care in the slightest about the speeches. You can get very invested in astoundingly trivial things.
Like speeches.
Or nails.
How Much I Do Not Care About This Thing I Suddenly Have To Care About
I take little-to-no care of my nails, normally. This is slightly because they suck, and tend to tear off at random intervals, and slightly because nails (like "fashion", and "sports") are just not really something I'm interested in.
My sister, on the other hand, is a Nail Afficionado. She has several dozen nailcare tools at her disposal, and uses them all with great enthusiasm. As a result, she tends to have gorgeous nails.
So, since I'm getting married, my sister suggested that I try paying slightly more attention to my nails than normal (ie: any attention whatsoever), because then I would have lovely nails for my wedding, and she would be very thrilled with this. Hence, I have dutifully been using nail strengthening stuff, crystal nail files, and other weird things.
And, let me tell you, even if you don't care in the slightest about concrete, if you spend an hour a day smoothing out a section of concrete then you will come to care, passionately and deeply, about keeping that concrete smooth. The same applies to nails.
A Terrible Problem, And A Worse Solution
So, last week, my nail tore rather dramatically. And after spending several days dutifully reinforcing it with tissue and extra nail polish, it was clear extra measures were called for.
I went to the nearest nail salon. This was a bad idea.
(Sidenote: My sister interpreted my interest in nail salons as a fixed idea, and so did not bother objecting to it. I interpreted her nodding her head - rather than shrieking in dismay and dragging me away - as approval. In future, I want to install Subtext Interpreters in every location I frequent, to prevent further mishaps.)
The nail salon fixed the broken side of my nail! Yay! And utterly destroyed the other side of it! Woe!!! At which point, being overly invested in my smooth concrete lovely nails, and not a little highly strung from wedding prep, I collapsed in a wailing pile of RUINED FOREVER.
My family tried to fix this problem by pointing out wonderful solutions to make it not show up in photos - which I did not take well. Because, really, I don't care about having nice nails for photos! I don't care about nails at all! But I'd taken SUCH GOOD CARE of them, and now they were DESTROYED, and MY LIFE WAS OVER!!!
In the end, everyone shrugged and started telling me about all the things that went horribly wrong at their weddings, which made me giggle.
Yes, I Am Insane, But In A Productive Way
The thing that really made me feel better?
You're going to think I'm weird...
But anyway...
It was Buffy Summers. Specifically: the scene in which Buffy is talking about fighting vampires, and complains, "I broke a nail, okay? I'm wearing a press-on!"
Buffy fights vampires! She has no ability to keep her nails nice, because of all the vampire slayage! Woo!
Here is my new head-canon for my own totally imaginary life: I have been out fighting evil marauders for months on end, with my brilliant sword fighting skills. Which has totally destroyed my nails - so, upon my return to the castle to prepare for my upcoming wedding, the Royal Nail Fixers did the best job they could of giving me pretty nails, but were of course unable to replace the bits that had been sliced off by my opponents' swords.
Yes, I am very strange. BUT I'm a strange person who is ALSO a cool arse-kicking sword fighter, who lives in a CASTLE. I AM TOO AWESOME TO BE FAZED BY HOW MY NAILS LOOK. I FIGHT EVIL, BITCAS.
...whatever works. *shrugs*
The conversation's happening over at Dreamwidth. Feel free to comment there using OpenID. (
comments so far)
It's slightly surreal to find yourself locked in a two-hour argument about precisely how many minutes the speeches will go for, and exactly who is going to speak in which order, when you know perfectly well that you do not care in the slightest about the speeches. You can get very invested in astoundingly trivial things.
Like speeches.
Or nails.
How Much I Do Not Care About This Thing I Suddenly Have To Care About
I take little-to-no care of my nails, normally. This is slightly because they suck, and tend to tear off at random intervals, and slightly because nails (like "fashion", and "sports") are just not really something I'm interested in.
My sister, on the other hand, is a Nail Afficionado. She has several dozen nailcare tools at her disposal, and uses them all with great enthusiasm. As a result, she tends to have gorgeous nails.
So, since I'm getting married, my sister suggested that I try paying slightly more attention to my nails than normal (ie: any attention whatsoever), because then I would have lovely nails for my wedding, and she would be very thrilled with this. Hence, I have dutifully been using nail strengthening stuff, crystal nail files, and other weird things.
And, let me tell you, even if you don't care in the slightest about concrete, if you spend an hour a day smoothing out a section of concrete then you will come to care, passionately and deeply, about keeping that concrete smooth. The same applies to nails.
A Terrible Problem, And A Worse Solution
So, last week, my nail tore rather dramatically. And after spending several days dutifully reinforcing it with tissue and extra nail polish, it was clear extra measures were called for.
I went to the nearest nail salon. This was a bad idea.
(Sidenote: My sister interpreted my interest in nail salons as a fixed idea, and so did not bother objecting to it. I interpreted her nodding her head - rather than shrieking in dismay and dragging me away - as approval. In future, I want to install Subtext Interpreters in every location I frequent, to prevent further mishaps.)
The nail salon fixed the broken side of my nail! Yay! And utterly destroyed the other side of it! Woe!!! At which point, being overly invested in my smooth concrete lovely nails, and not a little highly strung from wedding prep, I collapsed in a wailing pile of RUINED FOREVER.
My family tried to fix this problem by pointing out wonderful solutions to make it not show up in photos - which I did not take well. Because, really, I don't care about having nice nails for photos! I don't care about nails at all! But I'd taken SUCH GOOD CARE of them, and now they were DESTROYED, and MY LIFE WAS OVER!!!
In the end, everyone shrugged and started telling me about all the things that went horribly wrong at their weddings, which made me giggle.
Yes, I Am Insane, But In A Productive Way
The thing that really made me feel better?
You're going to think I'm weird...
But anyway...
It was Buffy Summers. Specifically: the scene in which Buffy is talking about fighting vampires, and complains, "I broke a nail, okay? I'm wearing a press-on!"
Buffy fights vampires! She has no ability to keep her nails nice, because of all the vampire slayage! Woo!
Here is my new head-canon for my own totally imaginary life: I have been out fighting evil marauders for months on end, with my brilliant sword fighting skills. Which has totally destroyed my nails - so, upon my return to the castle to prepare for my upcoming wedding, the Royal Nail Fixers did the best job they could of giving me pretty nails, but were of course unable to replace the bits that had been sliced off by my opponents' swords.
Yes, I am very strange. BUT I'm a strange person who is ALSO a cool arse-kicking sword fighter, who lives in a CASTLE. I AM TOO AWESOME TO BE FAZED BY HOW MY NAILS LOOK. I FIGHT EVIL, BITCAS.
...whatever works. *shrugs*
The conversation's happening over at Dreamwidth. Feel free to comment there using OpenID. (
comments so far)