
I guess hatred might be a little strong of a word, but it certainly does irk me a lot.
Firstly, this year V-Day has the same mark against it that Easter has always held for me: that of disease. And not just a little bug, but the kind of illness where you really just want someone to go out and hire Dr. Kevorkian for you and end the pain.
More to the point, Valentine's Day is a stupid concept. It's a day when you're supposed to buy gifts for your loved one, and be all romantic, etc. What makes it so special if everyone else is doing it? Worse, you're not doing it because you want to, you're doing it because this gridded paper hanging on your wall said to. Aw, how sweet, right? I mean, we'd all just be better off dating our calendars.
Furthermore, it's the utter commercialization of the most important emotion a human being can feel. Way to be materialistic, America, as well as UTTERLY shallow.
And you know when I'm criticizing the shallowness, it's time to be scared.
My mother is a romance author. You would think she'd understand where I'm coming from. But no, she doesn't. V-Day is the most important holiday for her industry, so I guess I get where she's coming from. But once more, she's benefiting off of the shallowness and materialism of a people who can't even buy flowers for someone they supposedly love without being told to by a box on a calendar!
You know, it's not even a holiday. The Catholic Church poo-pooed the whole thing years ago, because as it turns out the whole St. Valentine got hung legend is just that....a legend. Now the only memorable event that's happened on Valentine's Day is...right, a bloody massacre.
Just warms the heart.