My Funny Valentine

The funniest thing?

I don't believe in Valentine's Day.

It has never meant as much to me as certain other terribly traditional festivals such as the mooncake festival which I adore and not just for the mooncakes. To me, a festival, a day of celebration ought to have some kind of interesting story behind it and I found the St Valentine's story mainly boring and came to the conclusion the whole thing was a clever and evil marketing ploy thought up by Hallmark.

So when I looked at my take home exam deadline and realised it was due on Valentine's Day, I felt nothing.

But now, having finished the darned paper, I'm so happy(and high on caffeine!) I could kiss the sky and make out with the stars.

So Happy Valentine's Day to all!

I promise I'll be back to my usual self next year, muttering about Hallmark conspiracy theories and of the commercialised crap they make us buy.

But for now, I've collected a few cool links and slightly mushy stuff for everyone to enjoy.

Found this series of posts on Popaghandi- on life, love and her relationships past and present. I was deeply moved by some and felt oddly connected with others. Also, I loved the way this part sounded

" We lit types — so obsessed. With symbolism, coincidence, signs, literary devices. Pregnant pauses. So obsessed with tragedy, and obsessed with obsession. You’re in love with the idea of being in love with me. And I’m in love with the idea of you being in love with me. Another lifetime perhaps, another place. Am I just a friend to you? It stopped being simple, the moment we kissed...."


Postsecret again, but then they have a series on love and relationships for Valentine's Day.

Slate Magazine has compiled a small anthology of poetry for Valentine's Day. Some clearly not of the gooey variety. Witness this short poem by Louise Bogan.

PACKET OF LETTERS

In the shut drawer, even now, they rave and grieve—
To be approached at times with the frightened tear;
Their cold to be drawn away from, as one, at nightfall,
Draws the cloak closer against the cold of the marsh.

There, there, the thugs of the heart did murder.
There, still in murderers' guise, two stand embraced, embalmed.

Finally, ChubbyHubby has this excellent menu for people who want to celebrate the day by cooking for their loved ones. I was literally drooling over my keyboard.

To round things off in the spirit of general schmaltziness, here's a poem I read and totally loved when I was an emotional and tender hearted 17 year old.

The White Rose by John Boyle O'Reilly

THE red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
Oh, the red rose is a falcon
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rose bud

With a flush on its petal tips;

For the love that is purest and sweetest

Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

P.S For the record though, roses (of most shades) really are my favourite flowers. I love the way they lean up toward you in this gentle, almost trusting manner and slowly unfurl their secretive petals.