No Love
Skimpy lingerie is the best image associated with that febrile holiday that ignites the insecurities within us. Valentine's Day makes us strip the complexities of a human being away until all we can see is an object that can be appeased with money. I say this as one who has never been in a romantic relationship, but my qualifications in this subject come from very serious friendships which failed spectacularly due to my inability to see that other human being as another human being.
I have been trained to have a knee-jerk reaction to Valentine's Day; ah, the inundation begins with ads that insinuate I must buy another person's happiness; ah, the stagnant scent of stale perfume lingers in the mall, low to the ground as I evacuate like a sane individual with a sense of self-preservation. Seeing as I am an American, and by extension one who is inundated with ads every single second of my life that flourish in reminding me that I am a highly insecure human being, I have learned to despise the advertisements. You are not a good boyfriend if you don't buy her this ring. You don't love her enough. Prove that you love her by spending insane amounts of money for an object that will have no practical use in her life. The only time the advertisements are this insidious is when January rolls around and Special K insists that you're not losing, you're gaining confidence . . . by buying their product and still buying into the diet craze.
Really, January and February are a double whammy of vicious advertisements. There's nothing better than starting the year with messages of, "You're not healthy," and "You don't love him/her enough." Thanks.
My life has been spent despising Valentine's Day solely due to the fact that I am usually alone on that day and there is nothing more scathing than seeing people together, holding hands, going out to restaurants, giving each other cards. I revert to my inner Woody Allen, figuring that the only reason these people are together is because they're too stupid to understand the complexities of life ("I'm very shallow and empty and I have no ideas and nothing interesting to say." "And I'm exactly the same way."). But this is just me being insanely insecure. I know plenty of people who are together, who are also highly intelligent. The ability to have compassion for another person has no correlation to intelligence I have learned.
I have been that person who was consoled by jokes of Valentine's Day really being "Single Awareness Day," I have been that person buying cards for my sisters. I have been that person who bought chocolate for herself and then ate it begrudgingly while watching Heroes by my lonesome self. And by despising Valentine's Day, I came very close to buying into as everyone else does. I bought into the idea that these couples were genuinely happy and would remain happy for as long as they were together. That they were paired with the single person who would solve all of their problems. That they treated each other equally and this was what I had been missing in my life all this time. I believed that if I did not have a romantic relationship, I could not have happiness. But happiness is not something one attains forever. I read a quote recently by Apollinaire and I'm paraphrasing here, but he said, "In the pursuit of happiness, we must remember to be happy." The point is, feelings are fleeting. If you don't feel them in the moment, you'll never feel them. There are moments when I'm alone with my thoughts and I understand, "This is happiness. I am happy right now." There are moments when I feel as though I am greatly loved, and incapable of returning that glorious feeling. And they always come to me when I least expect them.
In a consumerist culture though, authentic emotions won't sell. Dreams and promises sell. Not emotions.
Love has become a commodity. I have been trained to believe that love involves me being with the perfect human being who will help me attain a better state of character. It's the same with traveling, as is shown in Frances Ha. If you enter any major life event hoping that it will save you, it will not save you. The circumstances will not help you. The problems and the answers lie within you. I won't learn anything important by forcing myself into a romantic relationship. Experiences will become my teachers. Failure has taught me more about how important my few interactions with the public are.
Love is no longer the most important aspect to my thoughts. To my body, the answer is different, but it is solely that, a body, and there are many times when the driver thinks she is at the wheel only to learn that this car is a being of the future and drives itself. Empathy is important. Compassion is important. These are traits that must be learned through experience. Love is merely a propped-up billboard, a short and sweet advertisement that makes me feel insecure about my choices in life. But empathy reminds me that my years of failure have not been wasted.
It's just another day. The illusions concocted of snide perfume, sheer underwear, and expensive chocolate fade. I continue my life.
And maybe I have failed as an American if my favorite (un)romantic film is Annie Hall.
I have been trained to have a knee-jerk reaction to Valentine's Day; ah, the inundation begins with ads that insinuate I must buy another person's happiness; ah, the stagnant scent of stale perfume lingers in the mall, low to the ground as I evacuate like a sane individual with a sense of self-preservation. Seeing as I am an American, and by extension one who is inundated with ads every single second of my life that flourish in reminding me that I am a highly insecure human being, I have learned to despise the advertisements. You are not a good boyfriend if you don't buy her this ring. You don't love her enough. Prove that you love her by spending insane amounts of money for an object that will have no practical use in her life. The only time the advertisements are this insidious is when January rolls around and Special K insists that you're not losing, you're gaining confidence . . . by buying their product and still buying into the diet craze.
Really, January and February are a double whammy of vicious advertisements. There's nothing better than starting the year with messages of, "You're not healthy," and "You don't love him/her enough." Thanks.
My life has been spent despising Valentine's Day solely due to the fact that I am usually alone on that day and there is nothing more scathing than seeing people together, holding hands, going out to restaurants, giving each other cards. I revert to my inner Woody Allen, figuring that the only reason these people are together is because they're too stupid to understand the complexities of life ("I'm very shallow and empty and I have no ideas and nothing interesting to say." "And I'm exactly the same way."). But this is just me being insanely insecure. I know plenty of people who are together, who are also highly intelligent. The ability to have compassion for another person has no correlation to intelligence I have learned.
I have been that person who was consoled by jokes of Valentine's Day really being "Single Awareness Day," I have been that person buying cards for my sisters. I have been that person who bought chocolate for herself and then ate it begrudgingly while watching Heroes by my lonesome self. And by despising Valentine's Day, I came very close to buying into as everyone else does. I bought into the idea that these couples were genuinely happy and would remain happy for as long as they were together. That they were paired with the single person who would solve all of their problems. That they treated each other equally and this was what I had been missing in my life all this time. I believed that if I did not have a romantic relationship, I could not have happiness. But happiness is not something one attains forever. I read a quote recently by Apollinaire and I'm paraphrasing here, but he said, "In the pursuit of happiness, we must remember to be happy." The point is, feelings are fleeting. If you don't feel them in the moment, you'll never feel them. There are moments when I'm alone with my thoughts and I understand, "This is happiness. I am happy right now." There are moments when I feel as though I am greatly loved, and incapable of returning that glorious feeling. And they always come to me when I least expect them.
In a consumerist culture though, authentic emotions won't sell. Dreams and promises sell. Not emotions.
Love has become a commodity. I have been trained to believe that love involves me being with the perfect human being who will help me attain a better state of character. It's the same with traveling, as is shown in Frances Ha. If you enter any major life event hoping that it will save you, it will not save you. The circumstances will not help you. The problems and the answers lie within you. I won't learn anything important by forcing myself into a romantic relationship. Experiences will become my teachers. Failure has taught me more about how important my few interactions with the public are.
Love is no longer the most important aspect to my thoughts. To my body, the answer is different, but it is solely that, a body, and there are many times when the driver thinks she is at the wheel only to learn that this car is a being of the future and drives itself. Empathy is important. Compassion is important. These are traits that must be learned through experience. Love is merely a propped-up billboard, a short and sweet advertisement that makes me feel insecure about my choices in life. But empathy reminds me that my years of failure have not been wasted.
It's just another day. The illusions concocted of snide perfume, sheer underwear, and expensive chocolate fade. I continue my life.
And maybe I have failed as an American if my favorite (un)romantic film is Annie Hall.