(Valentine's Day was cute, I say go see it as long as you don't except a great cinematic feat.)
Valentine's Day was cut in real time, too. I know it's technically over according to UK time (not for those of you still in the US, though), but I'm going to finish discussing it now - distanced a little. (And let's face it guys, ya'll are captive to my narrative direction, so you have to continue along . . . or stop reading.)
I've never really had a *valentine* on valentine's day. I've never really had a problem with that, this year included. This year, however, I did receive flowers twice (one batch from one of my dearest friends), a package all the way from Washington state, Disney princess stickers with pencil & kind words/tidings from two in the tri-ad area of NC.
I cannot complain and say that Valentine's Day sucks because it's all about love, because I know I am loved. (Just not in the huge teddy bear-gifting kind of way. But let's be honest, who wants to lug around and store a huge stuff bear that's just going to leave cheap white fur all over the place.) I have the best friends in the world - I know I say this a lot, but I really do. They and my family are awesome. So one this day of LOVE and all that is red and pink and wonderful and tacky, I want to say I love you all. Very much. :))
And while it may be lovely to have a candle lit dinner at economically friendly Pizza Express with a boy (or even The Angel bahah) on a famed date night like tonight, I'm not going to slow down for any male to get his act together. It may be selfish to say, but I have better things to do than worry about how he feels about his latest exam/any other ego feeding thing necessary to reassure a male that he is, in fact, the smartest and greatest and (as one male once said so eloquently in a 10th grade English class) "God's gift to women." I won't do it. I have bigger things to do, especially this semester, namely balancing my affairs with men named Collins, Kipling, Dickens, Stoppard, and Shakespeare (just to name of a few of those written on the current page of my little back book). Those men never let me down.
Not that all romances lead to dead ends. The core of my hold steadfast to "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. But Juliet can't love Romeo until she has totally and completely had an affair with herself first. Once she's become a version of Juliet (or Jules or Julie . . . even Julia maybe) that she is utterly content with, he can meet her on the outskirts of town. Not before, though.
Silly ramblings need to end. I know nothing & could very well be saying things directly contradicting this next week once my heart becomes viking plunder.
Monday means the stacks. Party on kids.
xoxo, cheers & love,