Kate Hudson Knows What I'm Talking About...

I'll be honest, I didn't expect to read what I did.

I had mixed feelings as I read each paragraph, and there were quite a few to read. The past two weeks have been a quick sprint down memory lane thanks to Facebook, a couple beers with Jenny M., and Tellie's recollection of Piccadilly Porch. I remember standing on that porch the day I moved out and thinking that I wasn't just stepping off the porch for the final time, I was taking my first steps in the direction of uncertainty. In that house, for that one whole year, everything had made sense. The good (jam sessions), the bad (jam sessions after too many drinks), and the ugly (Jim joining in on our jam sessions). It had been comfortable there, and before I could take those last two steps down off the porch and onto a sidewalk that would lead me to another stage of my existence, I had to realize that I was, for the time being, stepping outside of my comfort zone, which, I might add, had the thermostat set at 71 and a healthy portion of a case of beer still cold in the fridge. The Bleacher Life post was no different. An individual very comfortable in being himself stepped outside of that warm, safe, and well-stocked environment to convey that message, and that floored me.

I have to be completely honest and say that during the ceremony I didn't notice anyone being absent because, quite simply, I didn't notice anyone else except Emily and our reverend, John Lescard. I think that was his name. I had never met him before the rehearsal day, a concept that has just recently started to bother me. Here is a guy that books 4 weddings to perform in one day. He drives in, stands around and makes small talk with the groom so as to calm his nerves, or it could be out of complete boredom that he initiates conversation. He then waits for the bride to walk down the aisle, starts talking, and 17 minutes later he's out the door and off to the next wedding, driving with the top of his convertible down, at peace with the fact that he, if you extrapolate his earnings in 17 minutes, makes a shade over $700 an hour. Anyways, I'm on a tangent and will continue that thought in my next post. The point is, Em and John were the only two people I noticed during the time I was walking up the aisle with my mom, to the time when Em and I turned to face everyone, Reverend Guy-Off-The-Street announcing we were now officially married. I had two uncles, an aunt, and a cousin who got lost, missed the entire ceremony, ended up in Oakville and had a small chunk of the guests on my side a shade over "mildly concerned". If I was so oblivious to anything else other than the wedding ceremony that I didn't notice family missing, I definitely wasn't going to notice anyone else missing. So I hope he doesn't take that as an insult.

It was only when Emily turned to me, after we were back inside and ready to sit down to dinner and speeches, and brought to my attention "Brian didn't make it to the ceremony." We invited 140 people to our wedding and to the reception, and every person that confirmed that they were coming showed up, which is, so I've been told, almost unheard of. So the news that one person didn't show for the ceremony didn't affect me for long, I couldn't allow it to. Moments after Em had said this I was laughing at some joke, or listening intently to Kelly (our planner), with Emily's news long gone from my thoughts. Again, no insult meant, thats just how it has to be on that day. I thoroughly enjoyed my wedding day, but I definitely could've used a couple more hours in there in order to really, fully, and truly appreciate the day and how amazing Emily looked in her dress. It was over in a blur. I told myself before the day arrived that whatever happens, I was to relax and let things happen, to not get worked up about anything.

That split second, however, after Emily brought that to my attention, I felt my insides twinge. Its tough for me to describe... placing words in aesthetically pleasing arrangements is not my forte. I'm guessing its how each and every 6 foot plus Orangeman with size 15 feet felt today after learning an NCAA tournament would be played without the influence of a Syracuse presence. Perhaps it is akin to the feeling Phil Mickelson got each time he blew up on the back nine of many Majors (until he finally stopped the bleeding and cauterized his career with a Major victory). I will even go so far as to say that Kate Hudson would understand the feeling after someone else walked home with a shiny bald guy and a ripped envelope, with Kate's performance in "Almost Famous" judged NOT to be the best performance by a leading actress that year. If you ask me, and I'll display my common arrogant prickedness and assume you should ask me, it was the single most greatest performance of any actor I've seen. Throw Drew Barrymore or Scarlett Johannsen in there and the entire movie changes, and not for the better. I'll bet you most people don't even know who won that year, but they definitely know that Kate Hudson lost. Another tangent, I know. Anyhow, Kate Hudson, Phil Mickelson, and the entire Syracuse Orangemen 2006-2007 basketball team could possibly describe it better, so ask them.

After you've asked them and they've explained it, you probably wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, and neither do I. What happened, well, it simply just happened. There is no going back to change it. A hard step was taken with that post, and I'll put my arrogant prickedness suit back on, 'cause it just fits so well, and assume that if I were to shrug off the apology and the years of friendship I would invoke the same feeling in the same person who was big enough to put those thoughts into words. I can't do that. I don't want to do that.

Apology accepted. Now, I don't want to hear another word about it. We paid good money for a photographer, well actually we didn't but someone else did, but the point is, good money was paid for a photographer and the reason he was there was to capture the day in as many pictures as he could take. So trust me when I say this, after going over the pictures and talking to Uncle Jack, it'll be like he was there. Hell, we'll even open up a laptop and photoshop him into a couple pictures to make it "official". Perhaps we'll replace the reverend's face with his, trading someone who I could've cared less whether he was there or not, with someone who I truly wanted to have there.

I'm finished school in a month. Something needs to be set up for late April.