Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I've always had issues with February... I think it's my least-favorite month. It has nothing at all going for it, and has that black pit of despair -- Valentine's Day -- right in the middle. "You just feel that way because you're single," I hear you protest, but I say no, in fact even when I was deeply in love I've never been a fan of Valentine's Day. I like the chocolate, sure, but I can have chocolate any time I want; the same goes for flowers. It might be fair to suggest that I'm not the most overtly, demonstrively romantic person in the world -- when I love, it tends to be in more of a quiet, devoted, undramatic way -- and that would be reasonable. But the whole hearts and flowers and plush animals bearing wuvvy messages thing just leaves me cold. Or at least the idea of doing it on a pre-determined schedule -- a day when you are obligated to display affection, as though that pardons you from doing it any other day -- is one I just can't bring myself to embrace.

But my dislike of February goes deeper than that. January, as bleak as it is, still has some novelty, some sense of freshness about it; by the time you hit February all the parties are over, but it's not yet time for Spring (not by months this far north), and all you've got is barren cold and dark ahead of you. There's even something about the word "February," with its pretentious unsounded R, that seems a bit too up-itself. That and its martyr-like insistence on having fewer days than all the other months -- except for every leap year, when it demands one day more than it usually gets and must be appeased lest it throw the entire calendar structure out of whack -- strikes me as an unpleasant trait in a month.

But maybe I'm just reading too much into it.
10:54 AM ::
Amy :: permalink