I’m sure the families of Kate and Wills are very happy.
I have no doubt the monarchy deems the Royal Wedding the most important story of the day.
And I hope they’ll be very happy together, ad infinitum.
But I have to be honest: I can’t relate.
I can’t imagine being, upon my marriage, deemed an Objet d’Empire. I can’t fathom being deemed important only as a potential babymaker. I can’t empathize with the fascination with the press of every thing I wear, every pound I gain, and every inch I bulge in any direction. Poor creature. I’m sure she can handle herself, as evidenced by her removal of the “obey” clause of her vows. But the cynic in me sees an electric fence around the fairy tale in today’s setup.
Also? We (almost) all know that a wedding is not the point. The marriage is the 70-ish-year reality that begins the next morning. The day to day, logistical, work balance, irritating habits stuff that makes the rest of your lives is a marriage. Not the dress or the aisle or the attendants.
And you know what I thought today as I went about the mundane, exhausting, neverending b.s. of my day? Kate and Wills don’t have to clean a cat box. They don’t empty the trash or clean the shower or mop the floors. And when they don’t do those lame bits of adulthood…the boring and nasty and irritating stuff still gets done. It doesn’t fester. It simply *happens*. Without, maybe, their noticing. Certainly without their bickering about it.
So their future….not on the same planet as mine.
Their daily reality….not on the same planet as mine.
I’m not saying wealth and power will make them happier. Or less happy. Or anything but different.
I’m just saying I don’t get them. Delightful young people who deserve every happiness. And I don’t get ’em.
That, and I am with Dan Rather. He writes eloquently about how there are many more important things to focus on.
[P.S. I think I’ll go mad if one more media dolt calls her a Princess. She’s now Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge. Offspring are princes and princesses. In-laws, delightful or not, are not.]
I was up with a migraine, so I saw part of the ceremony. I kept thinking the same thing. Every move she makes. Every breathe she takes. Everyone is watching. Their lives as a couple is entertainment. I remember the day Diana died, and how her two boys followed her casket. That’s all the media is anymore. Voyeurism. It’s easy to pick apart someone’s life, minute by minute, with a camera, from a long-shot distance, both physical and emotional. Way too damn easy.
I’m going to stop myself from ranting about the fucking media. And I’m heart sick that Obama pandered to Trump on the BS, like he pandered to the rethugs over health care, DADT, planned parenthood. We’re fucked. No amount of a fairytale wedding knocks me out of my reality as a commoner.
JC, I couldn’t agree more. Some crap food falsely labeled organic breaks you, the media breaks great people and heralds greatness where there is none. Ideas are verboten and thin waists are currency. Disgusting. Poor couple. Poor us. Poor sad state of affairs.
Where did we do wrong as a society that he who yells loudest wins? The mediocre is celebratde as a great achievement and watching people’s most intimate moments, like things whispered to your bride at the altar are dissected by professional (?) lip readers? Yup, we are royally f*&%ed!
Ab-so-freaking-lutley! It seems so ridiculous and full of made-up vapors . . . .
Ahhhh, Nap! I can count on you to shake me into reality. ;)
Dearest Jane, wasn’t I kind, though? I don’t mind them being happy, nor people wanting to watch. I like a romance as much as the next guy but the cynic in me says what about the tornadoes and what about the wars and how dare you comment on her waist! Hope I didn’t diminish your enjoyment. For those who care about such things, it was a lovely dress and a delightful kiss.
Steel Magnolia if I could have watched the five minute version (I did, on youtube) without the commentary, I might have been less peeved. But the media pretended it mattered, they got the titles wrong, they glossed over the poverty and war (and trash to clean up the next day) and way in which a similarly hyped wedding went for his mother.
Maria, I was a bit put off by the lip reading bit, too. Not that they expect privacy ever, for one moment of their lives. Terrible and tragic. But again, such a different planet I can’t even fathom how that weighs on them. I’m guessing cleaning cat boxes is preferable.