Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’09

[Originally written 2.13.09]

Before presenting this year’s Anti-Valentine’s Day Sentiments™, I wanted to reiterate the fact that I have actually felt this way for quite some time now, despite what some people may think.  There are no signs that I am lonely, jealous, bitter or any of that other bullshit that you placate yourself with to feel as though somehow you are better than me.  If you would like to make an attempt to call me out, please bring your skank ass to Philadelphia, as I would take great pleasure in ripping that kindergarten art project off your head [and hope some roots come out with it], knock you off your platforms and introduce you to the grit and grime of the Hostile City.  That way, you can truly be the reeking piece of trash that you are, and baby girl, ain’t nothing glamorous about that.

Reading back on the entries from years past myself, I know that not much has changed in the six years I have expressed my disdain of V’Day in blog form.  That certainly doesn’t cover the four years of high school in which my punk friends and I protested the blatant celebration which occurred in those hallways.  Still get a kick out of the fights that ensued because one girl was carrying roses from multiple suitors and that was the moment young men discovered they were not the ‘one and only’ in her life, or the spoiled brats who cried because they did not get what they were hoping for.

The hardest part of reflecting on past memories was the time I had spent with my best friend Jon.  It will be almost three years since he passed, and many moments I find myself expecting him to send me an e-mail out of the blue, telling me that he has missed me and can’t wait to see me again.  Losing Jon was totally soul crushing, and it took a long time for that pain to go away.  For the most part, I tried not to talk about it, because quite frankly it was really that hard to even form words without convulsing into tears.  There were moments I did what I could to keep from dwelling on thoughts of him, but that made me feel worse because I wanted to honor his memory in a variety of ways.

Now I have the ability to look back on these good times with fondness, even if there is still a hint of tears in my eyes.  One must understand that I was truly in love with him, which is something we knew without ever really having to talk about it.  In fact, I often expressed that no one would get it unless they knew us, but to be honest, there might be a few individuals who can truly appreciate the bond that we shared.

Of course I am currently in a much different place than when I first came to the Hostile City, and even more so since I cut all those toxic people out of my life.  Unsurprising, they have continued on with their fakeness, never once stopping to ask where I have been or what I have been doing or any of those things one would expect from real friends.  A younger version of myself would have sent angry e-mails demanding an explanation – and yes, I have talked shit, but I have also kept that in the open because I have nothing to hide.  This entry is not about those things, however, but I just wanted solid evidence that I honestly have no time to care since I moved on with my life.

There are many reason I wasted time on other people who I thought I loved, and those situations turned out to be very different from what I wanted them to be.  Which I suppose can be seen as lessons – while these things were not easy when I was going through them, it is difficult to deny that they have made me a stronger, better person.  In the past I lamented in written word how much I wanted to be with someone who was genuine.  Someone I could laugh and cry with.  Someone that understood me and appreciated me for who I am.  So many things that at one point I began to doubt even existed all in one person.  Foolishly, I kept focusing on the wrong things, mainly outward appearances, and continued missing the mark when it came to being in love.

To me, there is a big difference when it comes to love and being in love.  You can love your relatives and friends and a whole bunch of intangible things like songs and movies and whatnot.  You can have love for someone and not be in a relationship with them.  That is where I kept finding myself – giving love without really feeling like I was head-over-heels, and subsequently there was always an emptiness inside.  Being totally in love with Jon is something that will always be uncomparable, and part of me loves him still.  He was my best friend for six years, and that doesn’t get erased just because he is no longer here.  There will always be memories of all those good times we had together, as it is the best way I can celebrate his life.  For a long time, the void that was created by his death lingered.  Attempts were made to fill it, but in the end, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling incomplete.  Perhaps this is just the way things are meant to be, so I might as well just deal with it and move forward.  That’s what Jon would have wanted.

The one thing that hasn’t change, is my total disgust for feeling like I must participate in this thing called Valentine’s Day.  Since I am a semi-hermit these days, I have not been bombarded by what I like to call the Invasion of the Gooey Pink, i.e. cards, stuffed animals, boxes of chocolate and other assorted items that carry the colors of red, pink and/or white along with images of hearts, cupid, roses, etc.  However, as I am typing this entry [on Live Journal], there is an advertisement staring me in the face suggesting that I send a virtual rose.  Why is this a focal point of just one day?  To me, it’s like cramming ‘Christmas Joy’ down people’s throats during that whole corporate-based season and pretending that we actually give a shit about each other.  While I can appreciate the half-assed attempt to maintain some sort of consistency with the celebration of these supposed ‘holidays’ [which by the way were inventions of the Christians to detract from Pagan worship], there is little to no meaning attached to the materialistic items now associated with them.

Perhaps as my old school punk roots dictate, I am still disgusted by the mass-produced bullshit that fills stores and entices customers to purchase.  It takes little to no effort to choose a card written by someone else to express your own feelings.  What is with all this stuffed animal crap?  Sure, there are some people into that, I suppose, but I am almost thirty.  Things like that have no appeal to me, so why do I have to see it every time I walk into a store?  Don’t even get me started on flowers and jewelry and whatnot.

To me, it doesn’t make sense to equate how much someone loves you with how much stuff they buy for you, whether it be for V’Day or any other reason.  That is what has bothered me most about this whole alleged ‘holiday’.  Why is it not enough to just tell someone those three little words?  Is it because they have been said countless time before, and if they are not expressed in some sort of materialistic form, you cannot have evidence that it exists?  If this is what you are basing your relationship on, honey, you need a serious reality check.

Love is knowing that you are loved.  Being told is an extra bonus that puts a smile on your face.

Love is enjoying everything about your partner, because it’s what makes them who they are.  Focusing on certain points to create the relationship you want is just living in Fantasy Land.

Love is looking into their eyes and getting lost in how intense they are.

Love is being held close at times and being distant at others, so that you have an opportunity to truly appreciate what you have.

Love is knowing that you can ask for anything without being lectured, and occasionally being spoiled because it makes your partner feel good to see you happy.

Love is elusive, and doesn’t come pre-packaged, ready for purchase at your local store.  It cannot be bought, for investing in people is far more valuable than most will ever realize.

Too many people think they love each other and have very little in common, but stay in the relationship “because I love him/her”.  The sad reality is, while the sentiment may be genuine, if one is not truly in love, there will never be the great reward of an entirely satisfying relationship.  It took many years and lots of failure for me to realize this, and while I am proud to admit my faults, there is no reason to linger upon them any longer.

Today, I will continue to celebrate Anti-Valentine’s Day, dressing up in all black as I have done in previous years, and I do it to honor the memory of my dear friend Jon, along with all of the things that I enjoyed about him.  It is a tradition that I have upheld for several years and will continue to do so because it is what I believe in and worth putting my effort into.

Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’07

[Originally written 2.6.07]

Please take a moment to read about the origins of Valentine’s Day and educate yourself on how this ‘holiday’ came to be.  In years past, I often asked and wondered how it all started, so I found the article to be highly informative and quite different from things I was taught in grade school.  However, the traditions that once were truly signs of love have become distorted along the way into something that makes me want to vomit pink.  To make things perfectly clear, I am not “bitter” or “jealous” or anything like that.  As a matter of fact, I have taken this stance since I was in high school, because I felt that buying the crap which apparently would show how much an individual  liked or loved someone else [or perhaps as a cheap way to get in their pants] was just supporting the corporations that spent ridiculous amounts of money on ad campaigns and mass-producing the nauseating items.

There is no surprise that I still feel the same way today.  Furthermore, I am not an angsty or disillusioned teen; I am an adult and I still do not believe how utterly ridiculous people become when striving to please the object of their desire.  Last year my dear friend Jon and I observed the annual tradition of protest on the thirteenth of February, by dressing in black and going to Cherry Hill mall, which was quite the entertaining experience to say the least.  The official Anti-Valentine’s Day celebration occurred the following day, for which we also draped ourselves in a blackened wardrobe and went bar hopping on South Street.  We got incredibly shit-faced and wound up at Tattooed Mom’s where one of the most emotional conversations we ever had took place.

Of course I loved this man greatly and often felt it was something that many people do understand, which might have something to do with the fact that he was not someone I discussed with others.  Jon evidently felt the same way about me and during the six years we were knew each other, he remained a close and loyal friend.  There were various reasons we did not have a romantic relationship, mostly due to the fact that I had been dating other people.   In the past there were many moments were loose feelings that slipped out, but he was a gentleman and respected my choice to be involved with other men.  When that was no longer a factor, he certainly no longer held restraint over his feelings and I have to say it was quite overwhelming in the most wonderful way possible.  As we sat in the back seat of his ’49 Mercury on that fateful evening , Jon revealed his feelings for me once more and ignited a spark I did not think existed – and it was damn good.

The following month he asked me to marry him, but there were things in both of our lives that had to be straightened out before I could even consider the committment.  However, we agreed that once those things were in order, we would be together forever.  This story should have a happy ending.  For all intents and purposes, it certainly was supposed to.  Instead of finally being with a man who loved me unconditionally during all those years in which we grew closer and closer together as dear friends, I am left with only my fondest memories of him.  My brother, my partner in crime, and by far one of the most influential people in my life, was taken from me last Summer.  His death was no accident, and while I have grieved and continue to celebrate his life to preserve everything that he stood for, his death has changed me in ways I find difficult to explain.

Jon meant more to me than I can put into words, and not having him in my life has left a hole in my heart that I tried and failed numerous times to fill.  It hurts, but I always put on a plastic smile for everyone and rarely talk about how I really feel.  Since I am tired of that, I feel being honest is the best way I can communicate my feelings.  While all of these people are reveling in their expensive gifts and dinners and sexcapades, I find great disdain in their blatant exhibitions to the point of nausea.  Not so much because it is something that I am without and covet.  Believe me, I see the way couples are and looks can often be deceiving.  Though on the outside many appear to be happy, beneath this public facade there are arguments and tears and drama and bullshit.  In my heart, I know that I am far better not having such nonsense in my life, mainly because I am too old for such nonsense and have no time to waste on it any more.

My heart feels empty and while it has been suggested that I “move on”, there is little desire to and contempt for those who hurl such hurtful words.  Relationships for me have been lust-filled lies, deception and bullshit to get into someone’s pants.  Certainly that does not accurately describe all relationships, but I am still mourning the loss of someone who meant the world to me and not exactly in the right frame of mind to be considering the pursuit of a relationship.  Instead, I will continue to wear the ring Jon gave me, as it is by far the only true symbol of love that I possess, and I will hold onto it for as long as I wish.  It represents the one man in my life that never tried to fuck me over, in any way shape or form.

The next time you throw a tantrum because your boyfriend, lover, one-nite-stand, what-fucking-ever didn’t get you exactly what you wanted [or hey, maybe even nothing at all], consider yourself fortunate to have someone who at least made some sort of effort to please you.  Some of us have been left broken-hearted and no amount of gifts will ever fix that.  Pardon me while I carry on my unpopular tradition because it actually means more to me than mass-produced merchandise does.

Anti-V’Day ’06: Part II

[Originally written 2.15.06]

Firstly I want to mention that I saw an amazing sunset yesterday while coming out of Wal*Mart, where I finally purchased myself a clock so I know what time it is and drag myself out of bed before noon.  The clouds were a bluish-purple, with brilliant orangey-pink behind them, and the sun itself was a blazing ball of reddish-pink, the same as it was the previous day when I was crossing the border into Jersey.

Since I only had cereal to eat the whole day, I stopped for some grub on the way back to the house, because I have learned my lesson with introducing alcohol to an empty stomach.

Then it was off to South Street to hook up with my main man Jon.

Point of note here, I dressed in black again; this time a bit more formal with a lace trimmed skirt, vintage cashmere sweater and lush velvet jacket, accented with fishnet tights and comfortable leather pumps.

We met up in the same parking lot which had been chosen the first time I came to Philly and hung out with him, so that got the memories stirred up right off the bat.  Nerves were bubbling in my stomach for some strange reason.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that for the first time in the history of our wonderful friendship, I was single and could see him any time I wanted without some jealous boyfriend asking a dozen questions or making me feel like I was being a cheater for just wanting to spend some time with a dear friend of mine.   Come to think of it, the exes were always accusing me of that shit, but now I know it was because of their insecurities.

The sight of that beautiful maroon 1949 Mercury was enough to make me feel like I was on that 1950s date I always wanted, particularly when Jon stepped out.  He was dressed in a proper vintage suit, complete with tie and polished leather shoes, all of which were various shades of black,  hair so perfect it might as well have been clipped out of a magazine.  It took me a good minute or two of blank starring to realize he was offering me a hug.  We shared a beautiful Hollywood Moment before climbing into that metallic beast to smoke a blunt.  Halfway through it, he puts a small box in my hand, which appeared as though it contained some chocolates.  At first I thought it was his way of being ironic and cute, but discovered a much different treat inside.

Once we emerged from the Mercury I was feeling much better, a ridiculous smile plastered across my face as Jon escorted me across the pedestrian bridge and we hit South Street.  We may have been shouting obscene things at all those couples showcasing public displays of affection, but I am going to blame the influence of drugs.  Besides, the dirty looks we got were pretty amusing.  The bars were not overly crowded, mostly due to the fact that it was still early [around nine], but that just meant we could be loud and obnoxious without really bothering too many people.  We had a shot of whiskey along with a pint at several bars, some of which we stayed at longer than others.

By the time we arrived at Tattooed Mom’s, we decided to sober up a bit and just hung out for a while, talking about various things.  Mainly the choices we have made in our lives and how they have been affecting us, both individually and as friends.  That was when the topic of discussion went in a direction I had a feeling it would,and the age-old conversation about why we are not together surfaced.  Jon was the one who brought it up, stating that since I was single, I could at least be open-minded about giving it a chance.

The truth is that I have wanted to be with him more than anyone knows, and this is something we have been aware of for quite some time now.  However, Jon has also constantly expressed a fear that because of the people he was involved with and the things he did long before we met combined with the reputation he inherited from his father, there will always be a chance that someone would use me to get to him.  There were a couple of times in the past when this became a very frightening reality, which I have never really spoken of, and even now I am not sure if anyone would believe me.  Weeks and months would drop off the calendar where I had no communication from Jon, my mind coming up with horrible fantasies of disaster or convincing me I was a fool for thinking someone like him would go for someone like me.  For a while I thought these events were just drug-related paranoia, until I received some rather unpleasant messages from anonymous people.  As much as Jon has wanted to be a part of my life, he also said that he would never forgive himself if anything to happen to me because of him.  Thus the reason we are not, and have not been, together.

It hurts us both, and it always has.  While I came to accept these facts, and thought Jon did too, it seems he still harbors those old feelings.  Then again, I have to admit that I do as well.  It is rather difficult not to, after being such good friends for the past six years and having shared some really amazing times together.  Despite all of the hardships we have endured, we eventually wind up together and it feels as though things are meant to be that way.  No matter how much time passes from one meeting to the next, it does not exist the moment I find myself in his arms, and I feel more comfortable with him than with anyone else.  Jon has been here for me through all of my craziness, and never once did he try to bail on me as others have.

There is no doubt that he cares about me deeply, and even when he took my hands in his and told me he was in love with me, it was something I had known for a long time as well.  Those feelings have always been there, even if we did not always express them, but that is exactly what has always made our relationship so great.  Our bond is strong enough that we have connected on a level others do not understand, where we don’t have to constantly state our affections because we can just feel them.  Jon said that he was still concerned about his past coming back to haunt him, but assured me that he would always protect my life with his own.  It was a very profound thing for him to state and it left me a bit stunned, but his word has always been his bond and I find myself contemplating how serious he was.

We had a couple more shots before calling it a night, mostly because neither of us could have stomached another drop.  Instead of parting right away though, we sat in the Mercury to smoke the remainder of that blunt.  For a moment I wanted to say fuck it and run away with him.  Somewhere.  Anywhere. Where ever we could be alone and enjoy the beauty of what has continued to be an interesting adventure in life.  Something happened in that back seat I am not at liberty to discuss, as I have been asked not to and of course I respect this man more than anyone.  Active imaginations can form their own conclusions – I will neither confirm nor deny them and simply say that thinking about it now makes me smile.

We did say good-bye after that though,  mainly because he said there were things he had to take care of, perhaps hinting that involved pursuing a future together.  To say it was difficult to part ways and watch him drive off is a severe understatement, however, our annual tradition was once again a success and I am currently still bursting with happiness.

Anti-V’Day ’06: Part I

[Originally written 2.14.06]

Aside from the deeply discounted candy at CVS, I had actually succeeded in forgetting all about this gooey ‘love’ infested, sad excuse for a ‘holiday’.  Until yesterday while checking my e-mail as I simultaneously updating Live Journal, because I can mutli-task like that and finding a note from my favorite Carny which requested my presence in Jersey.

Do I ever say no to Jon?   Well, it depends on what is being asked, I suppose.  Seriously though, I would have to be a fool to turn down an invitation from him.  Besides, I find his presence in my life to be a refreshing change of pace from thinking about the most recent failed relationship.  Who cares about what an ex is doing when you have an amazing friend to cheer you up?

Jon had instructed me to meet him in that magical land called Cherry Hill.  It took me a little over half an hour to get there, only due to taking an exit I knew I should not have and getting sidetracked.  Driving to New Jersey from Philly is still something I am getting used to, so I do not feel as though I can entirely be faulted for the small mistake.  Other than that, I had no problem at all finding the parking lot.

It had only been about a month or so since we last saw each other, but that did not prevent us from having an epic and slightly ridiculous Hollywood Moment in the parking lot.  You know, when your eyes meet and you both smile at the same time, then embrace one another as though your life depends on it while drinking in the happiness.  The world stops and a phantom orchestra swell drowns out reality – the only thing that exists is you and the other person, your heart warming with indescribable love.

We sat in the back seat of Jon’s  ’49 Mercury with the heat on and smoked a blunt, and during the natural course of conversation I expressed my concern about the brush with death he had over the Summer, mentioning that I was not fond of the way I had discovered the information.  He agreed that in the future I be contacted immediately if anything ever happens to him, though assured me his days of being a daredevil was over for good as he had too many things left to do and had no desire of losing me due to his own foolishness.

Half the blunt was gone and it was decided that we would go have some fun in the mall, but not before Jon presented me with a little Anti-V’Day gift.  Not that I need drugs to have a good time, though I admit that doing them with him always yields in an interesting experience.  At first we traded off small bumps and passed a flask of whiskey between us, but neither of us wanted to get caught seeing as how we were in a crowded parking lot, so we stepped it up and dragged until all the coke and booze was gone.

Exiting the Mercury, Jon took my hand and together we entered the mall.  Let me paint the picture for you.  We were both dressed in all black from head to toe; me in a black pleated skirt paired with pothole tights along with my Vanity Kills baby-T and a military style jacket;  Jon looked damn good in black jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, hair greased up in a sick pompadour.  We both rocked black leather boots, though he always towers a good foot or so over me.

The mall was one of those somewhat upscale types, where you can just tell that all the people have money, but they sure got out of our way while we stumbled from store to store.  For the most part, we loudly and obnoxiously made fun of all the sappy crap that was currently on sale to entice those bastards that were heartless and waited for the last minute to pick at the bones with the rest of the insensitive vultures who were there to buy whatever they could just to show their special lady they didn’t forget.  Six different stores politely asked us to leave, and we obliged, but not before Jon announced that the people buying the shit were just putting money into the pockets of the greedy corporations.  While I don’t remember exactly what he said, I know that I could not stop laughing.

We totally caused havoc in Hot Topic by criticizing the store for its high prices of inferior quality clothing and creating an army of mindless kids that shop there to score cool points with their friends, while at the same time corrupting and bastardizing several subcultures, forcing them to blend into one, decipherless mass, stealing the identity of those who are hardcore about the scene they belong to which is now being destroyed by posers and wannabes.  They did not appreciate the speech and requested we take our business else where.  The next target was Spencer’s, where Jon was complaining that he found the use of the iron cross as a fashion accessory to be insulting and insensitive to Holocaust survivors.  Their employees had no idea what to say and I encouraged Jon to leave before they thought he was threatening them or something equally absurd.

One of the stores must have called security, as uniformed mall cops showed up and escorted us to the exit.  We caused a scene on the way out, accusing the guards of being part of the conspiracy, being paid off by the corporations and anything else we could think of.  Jon was shouting as loudly as he could that we were being abused and generally created a scene as we were shown the door, so to speak.  We were asked to leave and were not welcomed to return.  Not that I really care, as I have no intention of actually ever going to that mall again.

Smoked the other half of the blunt and then we hit up the Cherry Hill Diner for some eats, namely our usual huge breakfast foods feast.  That turned into hours of laughter and good conversation while we drank several cups of coffee.  As much as I wanted to stay out late, I still have no key for the house and did not want to get locked out.  Jon kept assuring me that I should not have worried about it and I feel kind of foolish for failing to pick up on such an obvious hint.  It took about ten or fifteen minutes to actually say good-bye, because neither of us wanted to let go.

My mind was in a whole other world after I drove back over the bridge, and so I wound up driving around Philly with a huge smile on my face while soaking in the city.

Right now I am going to head out and run a few errands before hitting up South Street with my favorite seven-foot South Jersey hell-raising hillbilly.

Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’06

[Originally written 1.27.06]

Once again it is that time of year.  No longer is the Internet safe, as the Invasion of the Gooey Pink has claimed another victim.  MySpace is littered with promising ads that are such an irresistible temptation.

Have we as a society and intelligent people become so disillusioned with love and romance that we must now depend on not being single during such a ridiculous ‘holiday’?  Where did this need to be loved come from, and why are people so desperate to be with someone?

I have some great news for you, and no, it has nothing to do with how I just save a ton of money by switching to Geico.

There is no shame in being single for Valentine’s Day.  In fact, I encourage everyone to refuse to even participate in observing these asinine rituals.  Maybe I missed the memo that said the amount of love one has for another is weighed by the monetary value that is given in the form of cards, chocolate, roses, diamonds and so forth.  This makes me laugh and perhaps even pity the poor fools that are sucked into this wretched corporate hype.  You do not have to succumb to the pressure of society and express your feelings with meaningless stuff that will likely be forgotten by the time the next absurd ‘holiday’ rolls around.  There is so much more value I find in things that most people would not even give a second look to, which include emotions that I have held for a specific individual.  No amount of cards or stuffed animals are going to equate these feelings, nor do I need to rely on them in order to communicate to him.  In fact, I kind of enjoy that I just know things and appreciate them for what they are without having to apply reason or meaning.  Love might not be simple, but when you find yourself consumed by it and unable to describe exactly what you are feeling, you understand that it is perfectly okay to just let go.

The opinions that I have on Valentine’s Day are ones that I have had for a long time, whether I was with someone or not, and my current relationship status does not make my feelings any less genuine.  To be honest, I find it absurd that there is this pressure for people o show their heart-felt emotion with materialistic things.  Of course it is nice to be on the receiving end of a gift that is given with no strings attached and are certainly something I am greatly appreciated of.  However, I do not see that this is something which should be necessary on one specific day.  It is much more enjoyable to hear encouraging words when I am feeling less than great about myself, or to find an e-mail inviting me for an unknown adventure.

At the moment I am trying to figure out what is worse – having to be exposed to all the crap currently being sold in the stores, or seeing it still hanging around until the end of the month.  It is a point I find needs repeating because people get the wrong impression about my feelings towards Valentine’s Day.  While I may have accepted gifts from my Dad, I certainly did not ask or expect them from people I was in a relationship with.  There was no desire to be assured I was loved, though looking back I should have known that they were not as meaningful as I wanted them to be.  However, since there is no guide on how to create long-lasting relationships, I am pretty certain just about everyone understands the difficulties in finding true love.

The notion that one has to be in a relationship in order to participate in Valentine’s Day is absolutely ridiculous.  No one is going to make me feel bad because I am taking time to focus on myself, which I feel is important to grow as a person.  Maybe at this moment I need to be single and should not be shamed for my opinions.  There is no jealousy or envy towards those who receive gifts for V’Day, and the same can be said for any holiday where that seems to be one the main motivating factors that causes people to observe them.

Looking back on last year’s sentiments, I have to admit that this makes a great card:

Love doesn’t come pre-packed, ready and available for purchase at the local store.

Love should not be weighed by the amount of gifts received, nor by the size of them.

Love is a feeling, often elusive, that fills us with this incredible and indescribable warmth.

Well, I am going to observe my annual tradition of protest with my best friend, and I am sure that we can find a way to blatantly display our opposition of such a silly tradition.

Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’05

[Originally written 2.14.05]

Once again, this ‘holiday’ of sorts is upon us, known as the day when you tell that special someone in your life just how much you love them.  Whether it be a secret crush, someone you are in relationship with, friends with benefits, fuck buddy, whatever, you are urged to use this day, specifically designed for those that have that significant other, to express your feelings.  Now this can come in many forms: flowers, chocolates, a stuffed animal, someone else’s words conveniently scrawled on a card, jewelry, fur, so forth and so on.  We are urged to make absurd purchases in order to properly devote our feelings to the object of our desire.  It is practically mandatory if one expects something in return, and certainly if sex is the forecast for later that evening.  Also, it is important that you lavish said loved one with many gifts, as the more you give, the more you love that person.  Besides, the next day, he/she can go around and brag to his/her friends, showing off whatever it was they received and sharing the lurid details of any intimacy that it spawned.

Believe me when I tell you that I find this behavior downright disturbing, and also find it quite humorous that we are told to focus on this one day out of an entire year to display our affection in such a silly manner.  While I was hoping to find some previously posted Anti-V’Day sentiments, only this one seems to exist, but I remain firm in my opinion about this ‘holiday’.

Shouldn’t we say those three sweet words on a more constant basis?

Love doesn’t come pre-packaged, ready and available for purchase at the local store.

Love should not be weighed by the amount of gifts received, nor by the size of them.

Love is a feeling, often elusive, that fills us with this incredible and indescribable warmth.

Of course I am not saying that the whole world waits for this one day to express their feelings, but in the same sense, we are urged and perhaps even pressured by commercials and corporate funded merchandise to do so in a rather blatant manner.  Sure, it is great to use this time to perhaps rekindle a relationship that has been on the rocks, throw some spice into things and all those other metaphors.  However, that is something we should be doing anyway, and not just because some ‘holiday’ dictates that we must.

In high school, one had the option to send a rose for a small nominal fee to another.  There was yellow for friendship and red symbolized love – I found this practice to be highly amusing.  People walked the halls with grand bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals and all that icky lovey-dovey crap, sometimes pausing to steal a kiss.  While this took place, there was a group of us that decided it would be fun to protest V’Day, not so much due to the fact that we did not have someone to celebrate it with, but rather because we saw it for just another excuse for corporations to feed off those that were naive enough to buy into the hype.  We all wore black to school, while the rest of the students obediently wore red, and proceeded to point and laugh at those blind robots.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this entry, there is little evidence of what I did in the following years.  However, I will continue the Anti-V’Day tradition.  Today my best friend Jon and I shall adorn ourselves in black [the only red will be in my hair, but that is just coincidence], drink copious amounts of whiskey and hit up the movie theater for Hide and Seek.  Perhaps after a smoke we might go out to laugh at all those fools that were blind enough to actually follow the mandating rituals of this ‘holiday’.

Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’03

[Originally written 2.7.03]

Checking the calendar an individual might note that in one week it will be the 14th of February.  The day when I just groan when people feel the need to share the joys of their day of ‘love’.  Throughout high school, I was actively Anti-V’Day – I didn’t wear red; I wore black, and I wanted to incinerate every single starry-eyed and love-struck idiot girl that proudly displayed what their boyfriend, boy-friend, guy-they-fuck had gotten them.  Did not understand this ritual and still feel the same way.  Why was it necessary to flaunt what someone got you it in everyone’s face?

Is it perhaps that I am jealous?  The very notion makes me laugh heartily.  What did I have to be jealous of?  The teary-eyed girls with broken hearts that wailed and moaned because they got nothing for V’Day?  The angry and annoyed ones who were pissed that they got some intangible flowers that would wither and die in a few short weeks, or did not get the jewelry they had been expecting because their boyfriend, boy-friend, guy-they-fuck is not a mind reader?  Oh yea, look how green my face is.

Valentine’s Day is just another excuse for the greedy corporations to load stores chock full of shit to sell to those who are stupid enough to make a big deal out of it.  The cards are sappy; the chocolate is expensive and fattening; flowers die and no matter what one receives, somehow it does not live up to the unrealistic expectations and standards dictated by society.  That is, if one got anything at all.

Back to the stupid people in high school for a moment.  Every year one of the clubs had this ‘send a rose’ thing, whereby students could purchase a rose in red, pink or yellow and have it sent to a person of their choosing on V’Day, along with a personalized message.  One could also pay to have a special message broadcasted as well.  [Yes, we had televisions in our classroom for ‘educational’ purposes.]  There were girls who hauled around collections of half-dead roses and guys who got into fist fights when they discovered they had expressed sentiments towards the same girl.  Incredibly ridiculous behavior that to me did not embrace any of the things I felt symbolized love.

Nothing about V’Day appeals to me at all.  Why does society force this upon us?  If you really and truly love someone, you should express that in any form you choose on any day of the week.  Especially when the significant other is having a bad day and feels like utter shit.  When you love someone, you do not have to give them something for V’Day; love shows itself in more subtle, valuable ways.  However, that does not seem to be good enough.  All this lovey-dovey nauseating pinkness is crammed up our asses, and just when we finally rid ourselves of all that other ‘holiday’ nonsense.

The colors of choice to represent V’Day are red, pink and white.  They are incorporated into everything from cards to candy to stuffed animals.  Who buys this crap, and why?  Do you feel you have to prove your love?  Pardon me for saying so, but I find it sad that people purchase expensive items in order to prove the love they have someone.  Also, I can think of several reasons as to why people are just being hustled, which is always kind of funny from the Carny perspective of things.  No one even gets creative any more.  If it is going to be a day that celebrates love, then do something original and truly romantic.  Such as pouring gasoline on your lawn and lighting it on fire so the whole neighborhood can see how brightly your love burns.  Something cool like that.

As for me, I am having myself yet another Anti-V’Day celebration.  As usual, I will be dressing in black from head to toe and going out for a nite on the town with my boy Jon.  We will make obnoxious assholes out of ourselves and mock all those kissing couples.  That is the Dirty Jersey way, after all.

That concludes today’s announcement, which has been brought to you by the letters F-O-A-D.