V-day Vendetta

Well....here's an article of mine. This one ran on good ol' Feb. 14...I named it "V-day Vendetta" because it ran alongside an article by one of my coworkers who gave her opposing view of the lovely day of love.....well, enjoy! (Any names and/or people in the following story have NOT been changed and any relation to real person(s) is purely intended.)

by: katie e. hawkes

I’m the kind of person that cynical people love to hate, particularly on one certain ooey-gooey day of the year.

Feb. 14 is a holiday of happiness in my book. The truth is, I have a soft spot in my little heart for both glitter and symmetrical things, two elements that permeate this once-a-year day devoted to love.

When it comes to the time of year that other prominent holidays have passed and Wal-Mart converts its seasonably-alterable aisles to lanes of pink-and-red joy, I am without fail drawn in that direction like a magnet.

I tend to wear pink and red to school on the day of celebration, and, if I find the time, I will inevitably mass-produce batches of heart-shaped sugar cookies.

I can eat conversation hearts in large quantities, and yes, I actually take time to read the messages printed on them.

Along the same theme, the Black Eyed Peas’ “Where Is the Love,” is a favorite anthem of mine that I rock out to on a daily basis. Actually, let’s be honest, if you ever see me walking around campus with my iPod plugged into my ears, it would be safe to guess that that is the song I’m jamming out to.

Before you write me off as a hopeless romantic who must have had 21 years of good luck with securing a significant other just in time for the day of flowers and romance, please, let me enlighten you.

I will take you back to second grade, Mrs. Dodgson’s class, where 8-year-old little me is sitting at my desk with my self-decorated Valentine box. (It turns out I also really like decorating things and using glue-sticks, so the Valentine-box creation process is always a delightful activity.)

As is standard in the elementary school years, every one of my classmates had brought a Valentine for each and every other little boy and girl. (Albeit a forced tradition put in place to protect our tender, pre-hormonal love lives, it was always a nice gesture, nonetheless.)

In a random spout of bravery and reckless abandon, I had made sure that whilst distributing my mass-produced generic love notes, a certain little boy would receive a certain particularly mushy Valentine.

The boy’s name? William. The Valentine? I think it involved two panda bears hugging. The result during Valentine opening time? A resounding “Ew,” which I could plainly hear from across the room.

This incident (and the resulting teasing that ensued for at least a week following) probably should have left me jaded and pessimistic of any and all affectionate traditions. And, in all honesty, it’s not like Cupid has shown me a large amount of mercy since then.

But, what can I say? Valentine’s Day still arrives near the top of my list of favorite days of the year, right under the 4th of July and (forgive me) my own birthday.

Call me crazy, but I honestly do look forward to the day that many other people loathe. Some of the more sneering critics have even spitefully renamed it “Single Awareness Day.”

What a shame! There are 364 other days in the year for people to commemorate their singledom – why choose to defame Feb. 14 in particular?

If you think that a lack of flowers on your doorstep or the absence of a diamond rock on your finger is enough to prevent you from enjoying Valentine’s Day, then I would say you’ve missed the point, amigo.

I have had a few people tell me that they no longer enjoy this holiday because it stopped being fun once elementary school ended and real-life relationships began.

My response to that is, why let the good old days die?

If I may suggest, check out the Valentine cards for sale the next time you go grocery shopping. I have been gleefully handing out Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cards for the last few years, and I’ve been eyeing a box of the Power Rangers variety for a couple weeks now.

And, if you dig the homemade genre, dig out a glue stick and box of construction paper for old times’ sake. Nothing is better than receiving a homemade, glittery heart, emblazoned with a cheesy poem.

But please, if you must remain cynical and wallow in your less-than-desirable relationship status, try putting a smile on your face and keeping your pessimistic comments to yourself until at least Feb. 15.

In the words of the Black Eyed Peas, “Let your soul gravitate to the love, y’all.”