Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Happy Leap Year!

I forgot about Valentine's Day this year. 

Ok, ok, so it hasn't yet happened.  

But, I had completely forgotten February has a national holiday (other than the awesomest holiday ever because it only happens once every four years--and no, I don't mean the Winter Olympics opening ceremony).  

By the by, when you google image search "leap" or "leaping" eventually you will find this photo:

I feel as though this image is a perfect jumping off point (ha) for what I'm going to discuss this time around.

**And every time I make an awkward leap of judgment, this will be the defining image.

Why Is It That Relationships Or Any Kind Of Relating To People Usually Involves You Relearning About Yourself?  Is That An Ego Thing?   

I love my subtitles.  They make more sense than anything I write after them.  Except for this.  

Anyway, I forgot it was Valentine's Day coming up until I kept seeing store fronts covered in pink and red hearts.  At first, I thought there was another blood drive campaign happening.  But, then I realized Red Cross probably doesn't want to encourage digestion of Necco Candy Hearts, no matter how conversational they are.

"Anatomical and redundant"
And it clicked in my head that "Oh... that holiday... is coming."  I haven't been one of those singles who is dramatically affected by Valentine's Day:  I don't sit at home and willfully anti-celebrate it by singing "All By Myself" Bridget-Jones-style whilst chugging the red wine.  Nor do I go on a rant and rave about how America's capitalistic system supports a surplus of expenditure on useless products and profits off of our insecurities.  No, no.  

The economy is bad.  

Buy that shit.  

I just have the memory of a baby gnat when it comes to other people's celebratory days (yea...I forgot my best friend's birthday this year--sorry, Maia!)  And being single, I routinely would forget about Valentine's Day.  I remember thinking for five minutes last year, "Oh.  Well, that'd be nice to have a date.  I wonder if Berkeley Bowl has a new sharp cheddar up for free tasting?" 

This year is a bit different.  I, for one, am not going to divulge my private life on a public blog--other than the stuff that only affects me because I don't care if you know I used to write marriage proposal letters to Alyson Hannigan...actually, wait.  I didn't want you to know that.  

BUT, there is someone out there I'm trying to impress.  And by impress, I mean not letting her know that I used to write marriage proposals to Alyson Hannigan.  

Help me out here, people.  

Don't let her read this.

Even though I'm still posting this on Facebook.

And my mom just friended me.

The lowdown:   

I bought her tickets to something she said she wanted to go to a while ago without checking her schedule first because I was afraid the tickets would sellout and now I'm pretty sure she can't go because it turns out it's also the same exact night as her main project-y thing you do when you're working the work she's got and therefore I am screwed.

Then I realized it was Valentine's Day coming up.  So, I have a failed attempt at getting a nice gift in the midst of the Day Everyone Must Succeed At Giving To The Person Who Lets You Kiss Them.

Turns out:  I reaaaally should get a calendar.

I ordered one for work. But, then it got lost and my coworker had to mass-email everyone to recover it.  And when he did and told everyone else, it ended up just looking like I had stolen it in the first place.  Thanks, Andrew.  Thanks. 

The point is this:  

I would rather celebrate Leap Year at this point.  And, I think a lot of people--not just singletons, couplers or those like me in between--really don't know what to do with Valentine's Day.  We all feel this urge to complete a certain level of sameness in expressing love, our idea of love, our imagined perception of what love should look like to everyone else.  Meanwhile, we're all struggling to uphold standards that quite honestly don't fit the way any of us actually express love. 

Case in point:  The way I express love usually involves some form of babbling about a random fact I learned for the day because I would want to share that with someone.  Hence the blog.




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