Wow. I think I might be one of those girls who hates Valentine's Day.
Possible Origins :
The roots of St. Valentine's Day lie in the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia, which was celebrated on Feb. 15. For 800 years the Romans had dedicated this day to the god Lupercus. On Lupercalia, a young man would draw the name of a young woman in a lottery and would then keep the woman as a sexual companion for the year.
Pope Gelasius I was, understandably, less than thrilled with this custom. So he changed the lottery to have both young men and women draw the names of saints whom they would then emulate for the year (a change that no doubt disappointed a few young men). Instead of Lupercus, the patron of the feast became Valentine. For Roman men, the day continued to be an occasion to seek the affections of women, and it became a tradition to give out handwritten messages of admiration that included Valentine's name.
There was also a conventional belief in Europe during the Middle Ages that birds chose their partners in the middle of February. Thus the day was dedicated to love, and people observed it by writing love letters and sending small gifts to their beloved. Legend has it that Charles, duke of Orleans, sent the first real Valentine card to his wife in 1415, when he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. (He, however, was not beheaded, and died a half-century later of old age.)
Just one of many stories of how Valentine's Day started. I celebrated by stepping on a pen and stabbing my foot, and collecting the blood in a vial so that if I ever have a really dark and gothy boyfriend I can make him a necklace. Hehe. Like freakin' Billy Bob and Angelina.
Seriously though guys. It's against my rules to be bummed out today. Call me and make me laugh! Pull me out of my ridiculous funk! Find me a cute person!
I guess I've discovered I can revolve my life around me and everything is cool. Doesn't mean I don't want to talk to someone everyday and have a person to melt at that won't burn me. Ah well.
I did get roses though. First time (excluding my dad) I have on the flower-giving-megaday of the day of the year. It funny and cliche, but I LOVE GETTING ROSES.
Perfect mold-fitting femininity. Wouldn't Freud be proud.