On Valentine’s Day

Famous German philosopher, Martin Heidegger, often begins his essays or work as, “On…” such and such (technology, the work of art, etc.).  And so, in this tradition, I title this post, “On Valentine’s Day”.

For the first time in what seems like forever, I have a partner during Valentine’s Day. Of course, I’m excited about this, but not because of the prospect of being able to spend Valentine’s Day together, but for the simple fact that we ARE together.

Not to say that I don’t like Valentine’s Day. I’m sure that very busy people need a specific day of the year, set aside, to remind them to remind their loved ones just how much they care/love them. I, however, don’t; and so, I did not actually spend Valentine’s Day with my partner– we have every other day of the year to tell each other how much we love one another.

I did come to a few conclusions in regards to the topic of love, or what is often considered and perceived as love.

To quote Jacque Derrida’s famous words:

“The relation to the Other, even if it remains asymmetrical, open, without possible reappropriation, must trace a movement of reappropriation in the image of one’s self for love to be possible. Love is narcissistic” (1995).

Derrida’s very point crystallized before my eyes today. The first couple was the typical gothic-couple– both with tall leather boots, jiggling fat thighs under a girl’s red plaid skirt, matching leather jackets, and surprisingly clean, but stringy blond hair on the man. It struck me– these two were so in love with themselves that they fell in love with each other.

Some interesting points, though. Like most couples I’ve observed lately, the girl was, by the expression on her face, tolerating her boyfriend’s incessant, and embarassing verbiage. It struck me as possible at that point that either the man or woman could easily have been disillusioned by one another, and tried to compensate for their relationship’s shortcomings by becoming one another, by displaying to the world that aesthetically they were one and the same. To accomplish what? To feed their own self-love perhaps; to illustrate to the world: this is my other half, an extension of myself– love me, like I love myself.

Am I being too skeptical, and reading into physical appearances too much? Perhaps. It is 2:31 Am, and I did have a couple of beer (often the ruination of any argument I try to put forth). But I do feel that people are in love with themselves more than they wish to admit. Am I exempt from this narcissism? I think not– and I’m okay with that, because I think I’m actually quite nice to love. On top of which, I think that these ideas can help everyone cope with unrequited interest. Perhaps instances, that can be disheartening, in which our infatuation and desire for specific people are not returned only means that we are not them. Which, in a world that glorifies individuality, isn’t such a negative thing after all.

It’s simple: we, our selves, are not the same as the self of whoever we may have once desired. This unrequited ‘love’ (infatuation more so) is entirely understandable on the basis that we truly love ourselves, and those who are like us (physically, intellectually, or both).

I hope this makes sense, because I think it does. Then again…

The second interesting couple that I saw were two, practically identicaly, oval type people with curly mops atop their heads. The woman’s head was a purple mop, and the man’s head was, as an extension of his partner’s purple mop, only a quarter purple at the tips. They looked like a purple spectrum, almost– from purple to brown, they were one– blended.

Not to say that I am removed from this love observation. I too want to display to the world that my partner and I are similar, a part of each other, and together. But tonight, on Valentine’s Day, I have never seen such self-love as today, on a day in which we are meant to express love to another person, our partner, we actually end up expressing love to ourselves.

Why not express some anxieties, hopes, and tribulations?

This is my first ever blog. Well, no, acutually– that’s a lie. I had a blog when I was fifteen, young, lost, and well, hopeless, to be honest. The entries were overly dramatic, sad, and well, hopeless.

I’ve always enjoyed reading other people’s blogs, especially Melooga’s (yes, this is an alias, because we are, indeed, that high profile). I never imagined myself to be a blogger though; then again, I never imagined myself to be a writer, but more and more lately I’ve begun thinking about turning my thoughts into text (yes, hence the blog-title).

I feel like I should introduce myself, even if this never gets read by anyone who doesn’t know me, or doesn’t care. Right now, at 1:17 am, I’m the proud-owner (step-mother) of my sister’s black and white cat (yes, like Postman Pat’s black and white cat), named Naina (NAY-nah!). I’m also my father’s daughter, my brother and sister’s younger and older sister (yes, I’m a middle child and suffer from the middle child syndrome SEVERELY, at times). I’m also my girlfriend’s girlfriend, a best friend (to a few amazing girls), a political science and English literature student, an English graduate hopeful, and last but not least, a girl, although not in the traditional feminine sense, but in the more contemporary, cosmopolitan, de-constructed sense.

That felt good.

As my post-headliner promises…a few anxieties (for dramatic effect, and cathartic relief–yours, of course):

* My graudate applications to UVIC and UWO? They could be lost in the mail as far as I’m concerned, although I have tracked them, and do pray occasionally for my acceptance. You see, my GPA is sitting on the cusp of the minimum average, actually…it’s one percent below the minimum. This is a constant anxiety of mine; I really do wish it would go away.

* I had to sit next to Hobo on the bus today (Hobo is the girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend). I played it cool however, with a swoosh of my hair, cross of my legs, and the intellectual look I’ve mastered while reading.

* I have no money. Up until November I was happily employed at a neighborhood cafe; however, with the economic downturn, the owner was unable to take out a loan (spent all his money paying medical bills when he broke his foot jumping on some Happy Planet Juice boxes), and had to shut down. I’ve been unemployed since. It’s not as if I haven’t handed out resumes and not stalked the managers a week later. No, in fact, the managers are conveniently never around, and in one case, the ‘operational manager’ as he likes to call himself (fancy word for guy in charge of hiring) never got my resume. Oh, and that research position I wanted, some other mother fucker got it instead. I’m bitter, very bitter– and poor. I feel like I should uprise against my grievances, but to who, and all alone?

And now, for some hope:

* BARACK OBAMA. Need I say/type more? I don’t think so. Yes, Bill Clinton too entered office with much hype and enthusiasm, but not like Obama! And so, I don’t think people should lose hope, and turn to skepticism just yet.

* In spite of all of my anxieties and doubt surrounding my graduate acceptance, my unemployment situation, and well…life, I am still hopeful and confident that things will eventually even out, like tides…how organic of me.

Some tribulations?

* I was denied access into the free IT computer workshops today. I was really enthusiastic about learning how to use photoshop, but when I reached the area around the classroom it was swarming with people, at least fifty of them! There was no hope for little old me, and so I went about my sad day.

I’ve only put in one tribulation because I didn’t want to exagerate my life’s problems more than necessary, and appear ungrateful. I myself know how amazing my life is.

I finished Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles today. Amazing book! I was actually on the edge of my seat which hasn’t happened since Dracula and Collins’ Woman in White (yes, I’m a nerd). It’s 1:36 am… I guess I should be on my way to bed.

I signed myself up as a notetaker for a gender conference tomorrow, which means that I end up missing my environmental politics and policy class, but get paid for taking notes on gender (a pertinent issue, all the same)!

This blog thing isn’t so bad, and maybe something brilliant will come out of it after all, who knows?