2013 has been the best and worst year of my life thus far. The worst being the loss of two prominent women in my life and the best being the passing score which will now allow me to proceed with my lofty career goals and, at least in my mind, finally start my life.
So with this new development my head has been spinning with professional 'to-dos' and I have lists of lists of lists of things I need and want to accomplish in the next week - month - year. While this may sound obsessive and insane to some for a power-girl like myself, I'm in heaven. I have no stop signs in my future and all the lights are green. Well... professionally speaking that is.
There is this whole other aspect of my life which I constantly place in the backseat (or the trunk if the mood fits) that I've desperately been trying to give more attention. If I loved dating the way I love working, well, I'd be an escort (and a good one).
So as I spend each morning reviewing and revising my professional goals, I thought I should spend a little time reviewing my romantic speed bumps and what-not. During this painstaking task I made a discovery; it's not a secret discovery and I'm sure many have lived through it before me but it's my discovery and it deserves a blog. Here goes:
Strong women need strong men. Strong men can settle for pretty much anything with the right anatomy. Strong women are like the O-neg of dating; we can save anyone, but only a match can save us.
I used this analogy to not only review my own past lovers but those failed relationships of my closest, bad-ass girlfriends as well. Same story. Men that are weak-willed will only be intimidated and resentful of strong and ambitious women. Strong men see that same ambition as admirable and inspiring.
I'm sure there's some alternate version of this that my male friends can conjure, but for my purposes, this is the issue most relevant.
I can't say that this applies to every guy that's vacationed at Disney, but I can say that for many this rule of thumb can be played out perfectly. And I don't know how to cure the defect that makes my own reader fail to pinpoint a man's entire persona with only a look, but if anyone has any advice, I'm listening.
Until then, I'll have to continue to trust in the words of my dear friends and hope they keep pointing me in the right direction. And away from the operating table.
5.16.2013
Fifty Shades of Fornication
Yes, I've read Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes... more than once. I've talked before about the appeal of Christian Grey but he's no lone ranger in the world or erotic fiction. He may be the most popular, at the moment, but he's far from the most mesmerizing of the characters I've enjoyed.
So this is the point where I admit that Fifty was not my first, nor my last, date with erotic fiction. I believe it was 2002 that my first Lora Leigh novel fell into my lap and I've enjoyed a number of her and other authors ever since. In my defense, I'm a regular reader of fiction and nonfiction. I don't ONLY read dirty books. But I do love a good dirty book. And it's not just my generation of women that have fallen into this romantic trap - my mother, my grandmother; they both had their "adult" novels, although I'm betting they involved more romance and less restraints than my personal selection...
So what is it that makes these novels so popular among women? Well, romance - duh. I can't even recall the last time a man lead me into a candlelit room with a bed covered in satin sheets and rose petals. And why hasn't a gorgeous man, with a hidden sensitive side, introduced me to my sexual wild child while saving me from a psychopath kidnapper? The majority of these novels are written by women for women and the activities and encounters are mere fantasies. I get it.
The truth is, I don't want plants in my bed because I don't want to clean that up. And I'd rather not be abducted by a psychopath. Period. The novel provides a way to escape the reality and fall into the fiction. Not just the "erotic" but the story as well. The erotic provides a way for women to admit and mentally experience acts and activities they'd never dreamed of much less discussed out loud. For example, some women may enjoy the idea of being strung up naked in a room full of hungry men, or tied to a bed with leather restraints at the mercy of her lover. They may not, however, want to actually live out the fantasy.
Before Fifty, Kegal Balls were just a toy sold at the "sex store" and now housewives use them while they clean the house. (Okay, maybe not, but they should.) Before Fifty a leather crop had no purpose outside the stable, and now many women lay in bed at night and picture their man standing over them in his worn jeans and the brown crop while their hands drift down their bodies...
Fifty brought sex out of the bedroom and into the tea party conversation. Everybody wins. That is until the Mrs. decides Mr. needs to spice it up or sleep on the couch, but at least Mr. has an accessible reference to turn to. (FYI - Skip to Book 2.)
So this is the point where I admit that Fifty was not my first, nor my last, date with erotic fiction. I believe it was 2002 that my first Lora Leigh novel fell into my lap and I've enjoyed a number of her and other authors ever since. In my defense, I'm a regular reader of fiction and nonfiction. I don't ONLY read dirty books. But I do love a good dirty book. And it's not just my generation of women that have fallen into this romantic trap - my mother, my grandmother; they both had their "adult" novels, although I'm betting they involved more romance and less restraints than my personal selection...
So what is it that makes these novels so popular among women? Well, romance - duh. I can't even recall the last time a man lead me into a candlelit room with a bed covered in satin sheets and rose petals. And why hasn't a gorgeous man, with a hidden sensitive side, introduced me to my sexual wild child while saving me from a psychopath kidnapper? The majority of these novels are written by women for women and the activities and encounters are mere fantasies. I get it.
The truth is, I don't want plants in my bed because I don't want to clean that up. And I'd rather not be abducted by a psychopath. Period. The novel provides a way to escape the reality and fall into the fiction. Not just the "erotic" but the story as well. The erotic provides a way for women to admit and mentally experience acts and activities they'd never dreamed of much less discussed out loud. For example, some women may enjoy the idea of being strung up naked in a room full of hungry men, or tied to a bed with leather restraints at the mercy of her lover. They may not, however, want to actually live out the fantasy.
Before Fifty, Kegal Balls were just a toy sold at the "sex store" and now housewives use them while they clean the house. (Okay, maybe not, but they should.) Before Fifty a leather crop had no purpose outside the stable, and now many women lay in bed at night and picture their man standing over them in his worn jeans and the brown crop while their hands drift down their bodies...
Fifty brought sex out of the bedroom and into the tea party conversation. Everybody wins. That is until the Mrs. decides Mr. needs to spice it up or sleep on the couch, but at least Mr. has an accessible reference to turn to. (FYI - Skip to Book 2.)
5.02.2013
Disney Does It Herself
Apologies for the hiatus. Specifically, I apologize to all my fans in Russia. <Shout out to Russia!> When I first began this blog (well, re-began anyway) I had just exited a pretty lengthy relationship and I used this platform as a method to heal. I did heal and I learned an interesting lesson as well:
The Ex and I were together for four years and we were good friends before that. When the relationship ended, I truly believed I was over it, and him, and ready to move forward with my life. I was half right. I was over, and still am "over" the Ex. He's not a bad person but he's not the person for me. That was hard to accept but I did and that's all. Where I went wrong was assuming I was over the "relationship" which turns out to be a different struggle all together. This was not a bad relationship. Obviously it was not perfect, but it was not bad either. No one was abused or neglected. In actuality, we were best friends; confidants; partners. Every decision I made was discussed with him first, and vice versa. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Disney! How could you be so codependent?' Relax. I wasn't. Dependent is such an overused word. His input wasn't something I needed, it was something I wanted. I loved and respected him. So while I successfully emotionally detached from the person, I failed to grieve the loss of the relationship. It's not easy to go from a partner to a single. Losing a friend is hard; losing a best friend and lover is much more difficult. It's not the person, per se, it's the attachment that I miss. Don't get me wrong, I still make my own decisions and I will for the rest of my life, but I do miss having that person that cares what those decisions are.
That said, the blog was a success. Although I still miss the partnership, I have grieved and, this time, I really am over it. So where have you been, Disney? Well, figuring all this out, for starters, and then figuring out what to do next. I began this as a "comedic dating blog" and I haven't written because I haven't had much to say. Yes, I'm still dating. That area of my life is quite normal, as far as normal goes. I haven't met any truly unusual men (or women) and I have met a couple really great men (not so many women). If these suitors turn into something significant, don't worry, you'll be the first to know.
So, here's what else I have been up to. In case you haven't heard, I lost two grandmother's this month. My only two, actually, and now I am grandmother-less. It's sad and I'm sad, but I accept that this is how life goes. Per usually, I have tried to find the positive in all this. It took a minute, but I think I got it: I want to live. I spent weeks going through my grandmothers' things, reviewing their lives and the one thing I found most common was their ability to live. I haven't been living. I've been going through the motions, breathing in and out, but I haven't been really living. I wrote an entire post on my resolution to think positive but I failed to act on it. So that's what I've been up to - living.
I decided I was to redecorate. I've been sanding and painting and learning all sorts of labor-intensive tips and tricks. I'm a regular at Home Depot. A month ago, I can say I didn't own a toolbox and now I have a full toolbox and I know how to use almost everything in it!
I decided to cook. My mom can't cook and she's quite happy so I figured this wasn't a skill I needed or wanted either. I was wrong. I care more about my health now and I want to know what I'm putting in my body. That means no Big Macs, no matter how delicious.
I go to the gym. I've had a gym membership for years that I failed to use. I thought "being a member" was enough. It's not. I have never lifted a weight in my life. The idea of picking up heavy things just to put them down again seemed insane. Literally, institution-worthy insane. Now, I lift weights (not much weight) and every day I get a little bit stronger.
I hike. I've always loved hiking. I did not love the waking-up and making-myself-do-it part. I still don't adore that part of the process but being at the top of a canyon, in Los Angeles, looking over this big bad city when the sun first comes up has turned into one of my very favorite things. My lil dog loves it too.
I live. Everyday I make an effort to do something outside my ordinary routine. I've spent a lot of time planning and preparing for what I want in life and very little time enjoying what I have. I have time, more than most people anyway. I have freedom, no dependents to worry about yet. I have health and energy that I want to take advantage of, and maintain that as long as I can. Some day I want to have children. And I want to have grandchildren. And I want to be present in their lives so they can enjoy the story of my life as I did my grandmothers. In a nutshell, I'm writing a story. My story.
The Ex and I were together for four years and we were good friends before that. When the relationship ended, I truly believed I was over it, and him, and ready to move forward with my life. I was half right. I was over, and still am "over" the Ex. He's not a bad person but he's not the person for me. That was hard to accept but I did and that's all. Where I went wrong was assuming I was over the "relationship" which turns out to be a different struggle all together. This was not a bad relationship. Obviously it was not perfect, but it was not bad either. No one was abused or neglected. In actuality, we were best friends; confidants; partners. Every decision I made was discussed with him first, and vice versa. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Disney! How could you be so codependent?' Relax. I wasn't. Dependent is such an overused word. His input wasn't something I needed, it was something I wanted. I loved and respected him. So while I successfully emotionally detached from the person, I failed to grieve the loss of the relationship. It's not easy to go from a partner to a single. Losing a friend is hard; losing a best friend and lover is much more difficult. It's not the person, per se, it's the attachment that I miss. Don't get me wrong, I still make my own decisions and I will for the rest of my life, but I do miss having that person that cares what those decisions are.
That said, the blog was a success. Although I still miss the partnership, I have grieved and, this time, I really am over it. So where have you been, Disney? Well, figuring all this out, for starters, and then figuring out what to do next. I began this as a "comedic dating blog" and I haven't written because I haven't had much to say. Yes, I'm still dating. That area of my life is quite normal, as far as normal goes. I haven't met any truly unusual men (or women) and I have met a couple really great men (not so many women). If these suitors turn into something significant, don't worry, you'll be the first to know.
So, here's what else I have been up to. In case you haven't heard, I lost two grandmother's this month. My only two, actually, and now I am grandmother-less. It's sad and I'm sad, but I accept that this is how life goes. Per usually, I have tried to find the positive in all this. It took a minute, but I think I got it: I want to live. I spent weeks going through my grandmothers' things, reviewing their lives and the one thing I found most common was their ability to live. I haven't been living. I've been going through the motions, breathing in and out, but I haven't been really living. I wrote an entire post on my resolution to think positive but I failed to act on it. So that's what I've been up to - living.
I decided I was to redecorate. I've been sanding and painting and learning all sorts of labor-intensive tips and tricks. I'm a regular at Home Depot. A month ago, I can say I didn't own a toolbox and now I have a full toolbox and I know how to use almost everything in it!
I decided to cook. My mom can't cook and she's quite happy so I figured this wasn't a skill I needed or wanted either. I was wrong. I care more about my health now and I want to know what I'm putting in my body. That means no Big Macs, no matter how delicious.
I go to the gym. I've had a gym membership for years that I failed to use. I thought "being a member" was enough. It's not. I have never lifted a weight in my life. The idea of picking up heavy things just to put them down again seemed insane. Literally, institution-worthy insane. Now, I lift weights (not much weight) and every day I get a little bit stronger.
I hike. I've always loved hiking. I did not love the waking-up and making-myself-do-it part. I still don't adore that part of the process but being at the top of a canyon, in Los Angeles, looking over this big bad city when the sun first comes up has turned into one of my very favorite things. My lil dog loves it too.
I live. Everyday I make an effort to do something outside my ordinary routine. I've spent a lot of time planning and preparing for what I want in life and very little time enjoying what I have. I have time, more than most people anyway. I have freedom, no dependents to worry about yet. I have health and energy that I want to take advantage of, and maintain that as long as I can. Some day I want to have children. And I want to have grandchildren. And I want to be present in their lives so they can enjoy the story of my life as I did my grandmothers. In a nutshell, I'm writing a story. My story.
4.24.2013
Bucket List
In an attempt to follow through on my plan to enjoy life more and plan life less I've thought up a few tasks that I hope to achieve at some point while I'm breathing. Some I may do this week, some may take a little longer, but I hope to satisfy each at some point in my (hopefully very long) lifetime.
Raise children - I don't need to supply the farm with slave laborers but I would like to see the world from the eyes of a mini-Disney and help them learn and grow in it.
Get married - I have no desire in making any oath to any diety but I do admire those that love and respect each other so much they want to celebrate and share that with their closest family and friends.
Parasailing - I love the tourist ads with happy parasailers flying in the air, although my extreme fear of the ocean has kept me from trying.
Snorkling - also hampered by my fear of the massive body of saltwater full of creatures I can't identify that don't require oxygen and want to eat me alive.
Shoot a gun - I don't wish to join the NRA or anything but I would like to be comfortable in the presence of a firearm.
Go to Europe - I will do this. Some day.
Have sex in public - I can't say I've never done this but I can say I've never done this for the pure excitement of it, as opposed to just being an inebriated mass of hormones.
Raise children - I don't need to supply the farm with slave laborers but I would like to see the world from the eyes of a mini-Disney and help them learn and grow in it.
Get married - I have no desire in making any oath to any diety but I do admire those that love and respect each other so much they want to celebrate and share that with their closest family and friends.
Parasailing - I love the tourist ads with happy parasailers flying in the air, although my extreme fear of the ocean has kept me from trying.
Snorkling - also hampered by my fear of the massive body of saltwater full of creatures I can't identify that don't require oxygen and want to eat me alive.
Shoot a gun - I don't wish to join the NRA or anything but I would like to be comfortable in the presence of a firearm.
Go to Europe - I will do this. Some day.
Have sex in public - I can't say I've never done this but I can say I've never done this for the pure excitement of it, as opposed to just being an inebriated mass of hormones.
3.31.2013
It's okay to get laid on Easter.
If I told you I knew a guy that died, his body was locked in a stone mausoleum, and a few days later he rose from the dead and escaped the stone vault you'd tell me I was crazy. Unless, of course, we're at church, and then you'd say you know him too.
The story of the resurrection of christ is definitely baffling. I mean, I'm a logical thinker and this just ain't logical. What is logical? Someone had too much blood wine and wandered into a cave to pass out.
That fact is this "holiday" is just another stolen ritual from the poor Pagans. Those early Christians were not too original... This also explains where the bunnies and eggs come from as I do not recall their inclusion in my reading of the Old Testament. The best explanation I've found is that Easter refers to the pagan festival of Astarte, also known as 'Ishtar' and pronounced 'Easter'. The festival was held in late around the time of the Passover. Originally, it was a celebration of the earth's regenerating itself after the winter season. It's no secret that the Pagans cared more about feeding the people than murdering them on crosses and such. The festival involved the celebration of fertility and reproduction which is why the common symbols of Easter were the rabbit and (for obvious reasons) the egg.
So the only true way of celebrating this special day, in Disney's opinion, is to make babies. Hunting for eggs takes on a whole new meaning, right? That's right. Fertilize, or get fertilized, or just practice if you're not quite ready for a lifetime commitment of parenting. It's okay... it's Easter!
The story of the resurrection of christ is definitely baffling. I mean, I'm a logical thinker and this just ain't logical. What is logical? Someone had too much blood wine and wandered into a cave to pass out.
That fact is this "holiday" is just another stolen ritual from the poor Pagans. Those early Christians were not too original... This also explains where the bunnies and eggs come from as I do not recall their inclusion in my reading of the Old Testament. The best explanation I've found is that Easter refers to the pagan festival of Astarte, also known as 'Ishtar' and pronounced 'Easter'. The festival was held in late around the time of the Passover. Originally, it was a celebration of the earth's regenerating itself after the winter season. It's no secret that the Pagans cared more about feeding the people than murdering them on crosses and such. The festival involved the celebration of fertility and reproduction which is why the common symbols of Easter were the rabbit and (for obvious reasons) the egg.
So the only true way of celebrating this special day, in Disney's opinion, is to make babies. Hunting for eggs takes on a whole new meaning, right? That's right. Fertilize, or get fertilized, or just practice if you're not quite ready for a lifetime commitment of parenting. It's okay... it's Easter!
3.15.2013
Running In Circles
My grandmother passed away. It wasn't sudden, but it wasn't not sudden either. I'm sad, but I accept that it's natural for grandparents to pass away. I mean, she did live 79 pretty great years.
I learned early this week that she had been hospitalized. It turns out she had aggressive cancer and not so long to live. My mom said she wanted to speak to me and I have to admit, I was scared. She told me she loved me, she's so proud of me, and she'd always be with me in everything I do. That last part got me. I'm not much of a crier, at least not in front of people, but at that moment, for the first time in a long time, I completely broke down. My mom got back on the phone and then she started crying too.
After I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes I replayed what she has said, "I will always be with you." And I thought, 'she really always has...'
My grandmother basically raised my mom and my aunt as a single parent. My grandfather left her when my mom was young. They lived over a bar and my grandmother worked for the bus company and took college classes at night. This is back when women could not have a bank account in their name, so I can only imagine the hurdles she faced as a single mother. But she did it. She raised two amazing women as well. My amazing mother, and my aunt, who may be the most intelligent person I have ever known. So as a child, a young adult, and now an actual adult, my grandmother's struggle, her hurdles and her achievements have always been in my mind when my own lofty goals seemed out of reach. For that, I am eternally grateful.
So now what? Well, this whole experience has forced me to take a look at my life in a different way. I am constantly analyzing me and my choices, but through my own eyes as a 31 year old women. Now I look at my life through the eyes of me as an 79 year old woman, and I'm not sure I like what I see.
My favorite thing to do, in the world, is sit outside and read a book with my little dog. But on my deathbed, will I really want to reminisce about all the great books I've read? Probably not. I'm great at goal setting. I have a ten-year plan, a five-year plan, a one-year plan... and while I think these are important, there's something missing. I need to plan more fun. I moved to CA because I love the beach and I haven't been in months. I used to hike weekly and now almost never. I need a bucket list. In all my planning I focused solely on professional success and completely ignored life experience. I want and need more life experiences.
I understand that I may have to sacrifice some naps and I'm okay with that. I also understand that my irrational fear of almost everything may provide some hurdles, and I'm okay with that too. Because, without life's hurdles, we're all just running in circles anyway.
RIP Grandma <3 Disney
I learned early this week that she had been hospitalized. It turns out she had aggressive cancer and not so long to live. My mom said she wanted to speak to me and I have to admit, I was scared. She told me she loved me, she's so proud of me, and she'd always be with me in everything I do. That last part got me. I'm not much of a crier, at least not in front of people, but at that moment, for the first time in a long time, I completely broke down. My mom got back on the phone and then she started crying too.
After I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes I replayed what she has said, "I will always be with you." And I thought, 'she really always has...'
My grandmother basically raised my mom and my aunt as a single parent. My grandfather left her when my mom was young. They lived over a bar and my grandmother worked for the bus company and took college classes at night. This is back when women could not have a bank account in their name, so I can only imagine the hurdles she faced as a single mother. But she did it. She raised two amazing women as well. My amazing mother, and my aunt, who may be the most intelligent person I have ever known. So as a child, a young adult, and now an actual adult, my grandmother's struggle, her hurdles and her achievements have always been in my mind when my own lofty goals seemed out of reach. For that, I am eternally grateful.
So now what? Well, this whole experience has forced me to take a look at my life in a different way. I am constantly analyzing me and my choices, but through my own eyes as a 31 year old women. Now I look at my life through the eyes of me as an 79 year old woman, and I'm not sure I like what I see.
My favorite thing to do, in the world, is sit outside and read a book with my little dog. But on my deathbed, will I really want to reminisce about all the great books I've read? Probably not. I'm great at goal setting. I have a ten-year plan, a five-year plan, a one-year plan... and while I think these are important, there's something missing. I need to plan more fun. I moved to CA because I love the beach and I haven't been in months. I used to hike weekly and now almost never. I need a bucket list. In all my planning I focused solely on professional success and completely ignored life experience. I want and need more life experiences.
I understand that I may have to sacrifice some naps and I'm okay with that. I also understand that my irrational fear of almost everything may provide some hurdles, and I'm okay with that too. Because, without life's hurdles, we're all just running in circles anyway.
RIP Grandma <3 Disney
2.14.2013
V-day the Hypocracy
Saint Valentine is believed to be a Christian martyr who made his name popular by spreading Christianity and marrying soldiers, whom under the the Roman emperor Claudius II were not allowed to marry because he believed it made the soldiers weak. Valentine, on the other hand, believed this to be unjust and met secretly to wed the young (very young back then) lovers. Oh, and he healed a blind girl and left her a note before his execution which closed with, "Your Valentine."
Valentine was executed on February 14, 270AD for refusing to recognize Roman Gods. Since then, this day has been commercialized into the ultimate lover's day in the U.S. and all over the world.
Here's my beef:
The general public, and specifically Christians, celebrate this man for going against the government and performing illegal marriage ceremonies because he believed all were entitled to this sacred union. Yet, in this U.S. anyway, present day Christians consistently fight the government to ensure "all" are most definitely not entitled to this same union. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm referring to the gays.
This seems a bit hypocritical to me...
Ultimately this day was initially a day to celebrate "Christian love" and love for Christ, and has no real connection to what it is today.
Present day Valentine's Day can most easily be describes as a day of chocolate, flowers, and pressure, That's right: pressure.
If you're in a relationship you are required to not only recognize this special day, but show an abundance of love and appreciation for your partner, in the form of flowers and chocolate and flowers and more chocolate.
If you're not in a relationship you are required to gush over the love lives of your associates and feel insecure about your lack of partnership.
Fuck that.
I've spent many Valentine's Days in committed relationships and for the most part the day was not much different than the rest. Here's the thing - Disney needs adoration EVERY day. One day a year just isn't enough. Actually, it's borderline insulting to think we need an assigned day to show people how we feel about them Why not just be adults and express what we want, when we want?
I'll admit it's cute to watch the young ones choosing their "Valentine," but class rules require student bring a valentine for everyone so no one feels left out. I'll never forget my mother forcing me to give a valentine to the boy who, just a few days before, punched me in the stomach. Not to mention, promoting young love in elementary school may not be such a great idea now that middle-schoolers are making babies.
I'm sure this all comes off as a single-girl rant, but the truth is, this is my first single-girl Valentine's Day in a very very long time. I don't feel the least bit of pressure. I will go about my day as any other, and tonight I get to choose who shall be my Valentine. That's right, I still get to choose my Valentine, as in, it's not predetermined by relationship status.
In the end: Flowers die, chocolate makes you fat, and single girls have the options that the married girls envy. Yay, Valentine's Day!
Valentine was executed on February 14, 270AD for refusing to recognize Roman Gods. Since then, this day has been commercialized into the ultimate lover's day in the U.S. and all over the world.
Here's my beef:
The general public, and specifically Christians, celebrate this man for going against the government and performing illegal marriage ceremonies because he believed all were entitled to this sacred union. Yet, in this U.S. anyway, present day Christians consistently fight the government to ensure "all" are most definitely not entitled to this same union. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm referring to the gays.
This seems a bit hypocritical to me...
Ultimately this day was initially a day to celebrate "Christian love" and love for Christ, and has no real connection to what it is today.
Present day Valentine's Day can most easily be describes as a day of chocolate, flowers, and pressure, That's right: pressure.
If you're in a relationship you are required to not only recognize this special day, but show an abundance of love and appreciation for your partner, in the form of flowers and chocolate and flowers and more chocolate.
If you're not in a relationship you are required to gush over the love lives of your associates and feel insecure about your lack of partnership.
Fuck that.
I've spent many Valentine's Days in committed relationships and for the most part the day was not much different than the rest. Here's the thing - Disney needs adoration EVERY day. One day a year just isn't enough. Actually, it's borderline insulting to think we need an assigned day to show people how we feel about them Why not just be adults and express what we want, when we want?
I'll admit it's cute to watch the young ones choosing their "Valentine," but class rules require student bring a valentine for everyone so no one feels left out. I'll never forget my mother forcing me to give a valentine to the boy who, just a few days before, punched me in the stomach. Not to mention, promoting young love in elementary school may not be such a great idea now that middle-schoolers are making babies.
I'm sure this all comes off as a single-girl rant, but the truth is, this is my first single-girl Valentine's Day in a very very long time. I don't feel the least bit of pressure. I will go about my day as any other, and tonight I get to choose who shall be my Valentine. That's right, I still get to choose my Valentine, as in, it's not predetermined by relationship status.
In the end: Flowers die, chocolate makes you fat, and single girls have the options that the married girls envy. Yay, Valentine's Day!
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