Due to lack of verbosity and today's national holiday, this week you get two topics.
It is upon us: another Valentine's Day. For two weeks the incessant complaining of single women on campus has been enough to make me wish I went to UNC. Then I realized that meant liking Matt Doherty and got over it. Amidst girls' whines of not getting gifts and not getting any, I decided to look up the meaning behind this holiday.
In the Middle Ages it was recorded that birds started to fly in pairs at this time of year, which was when St. Valentine was killed. This simple observation from the 15th century has led to the commercialization of gift-giving and emotional declaration.
It is hilarious that women across America are depressed over a day of homage for bird mating. If we always paid this much reverence to aviary flight patterns, "ducks fly together" would be the Duke motto and Emilio Estevez the University president.
People are so wrapped up in the idea of flowers and candy that the central theme of the day is lost. We focus on romance and let other kinds of love go unacknowledged.
Families are totally overshadowed by V-day. These are people who will always love and support us - show them their props. Call home and thank the man who will always be there for you: your dad. Moms, siblings and other relatives deserve an "I love you," too. Their affection and care helps keep us going all the time, and we often let appreciation go unsaid. Make an exception today.
Friends also deserve thanks on the day of St. Valentine. These are the people we choose to love and share our lives with; who better to celebrate with than the ones you want surrounding you in good times and bad? And I'm not going to get all "femi-nazi" and suggest a girls' night filled with men bashing. Make tonight about fun, not depression and bitterness. I'll be spending my evening 80s-style with my favorite frat boys from Duke. It can't get much better than the Top Gun soundtrack and intentional wearing of blue eye shadow. So, the moral of my story: don't let romantic conventions keep you from celebrating. Love, in any form, is a cherished gift.
The college growing pains have officially set in. I don't exactly know how it happened, but I am already a second-semester junior. Somewhere between being a p-frosh back in '99 and now, I have nearly completed my undergraduate education. Three years have flown by in a haze of classes, mixers, midterms, formals, finals and Myrtle. I know this is something you expect to read from a senior, but anyone who knows me can tell I do things faster than most; actually anyone who has heard me speak can attest to it, so it's no surprise that my "college has flown by" mentality is kicking in a tad early.
The seniors are graduating - some with jobs, and others without a clue as to what they want to do. And as we watch our closest predecessors prepare to leave, denial sets in. We third -years are starting to feel old. It's not at the "let's turn back time with another face lift" point, but more the "wow we can legally drink... now the next big thing is 30." What's worse is that this realization does not help to slow the process. Study abroad seems years past rather than months. We plan housing for next year in disbelief that it's our last, while our parents start booking hotels for graduation.
We blindly turn toward the future of adult life, getting jobs in a recession, and leaving the comfort that is college. Now is when the nights go later and the people you choose to spend them with are appreciated more. I revise the adage: You don't know what you've got until it's almost gone. And for that last little bit, you live it up because tomorrow is nearly here.
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