Valentine's Day

This is the obligatory single person's rant about the stupidity we call Valentine's Day. If you have heard it before (and we ALL have) then stop reading.
See, Valentine's Day is never happy for me, whether I have a Valentine or not. This year it happens that I don't, but I pretty much always hate Vday. It's not because it was invented by the card companies. It's not because it makes singletons feel like shit. It's not even because a day where a person is FORCED to show love makes whatever they do for you obligatory and therefore null and void.
It's because of school.
Children's valentines. Card companies couldn't stop with the adults - that's not enough cards. They target children and force them to buy cheesy foil cards with cartoon characters on them. The children are forced to give out valentines to everyone in the class - that's a rule everywhere - but children have ways of showing their disdain for the less than popular. And when you're ten feet tall in the third grade, with a loud voice and a bossy manner, nobody really likes you. This is especially aparent when you get the lamest card from every box, with scribbles instead of signatures, and NO candy attached.

I had an interesting discussion with my Eng professor the other day about Shakespearean sonnets. My fave is 116, and he asked me if I thought it was an "appropriate" wedding sonnet. I said hell no because it's all about how love is never-changing, never-faultering and we all know that weddings have a 50% chance of ending in divorce. Plus, it's far too gallant to be real. And I believe REAL love should be celebrated at weddings, and gallant love is for art. So this is the sonnet you should give to your significant other this Vday. it's much more appropriate:
Sonnet 141
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes
for they in thee a thousand errors note
but tis my heart that loves what they despise
who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
to any sensual feast with thee alone:
but my five wits nor my five senses can
dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.