Anti-Valentine's day manifesto

I hate Valentine’s’ Day.

There, I said it. And no, I’m not single, so it’s not just bitterness towards all the happy couples that are snuggling to the sound of cute love songs while surrounded by rose petals and candlelight.

Before you judge me, take a breath and hear me out. I am a big fan of romance; I do believe in true love; I love pampering and being pampered by my loved one. So why the hate towards a holiday that celebrates love? It’s forced and fake. Fake. Fake. FAKE!!!

I never managed to understand the point of a holiday that forces you to buy candy, teddy bears, and flowers, present them to your significant other and expect the same in return. Aside from all the shopping-caused stress, there’s also the “you’re dead if you didn’t get me anything” factor. Yeah, way to go humanity! Let’s force our partners into buying us gifts, not because we deserve it or they want to make us feel special, but because they have to, else they’re killjoys, cynics, or inconsiderate.

Then there’s the obligatory dinner and/or movie, the bubble bath, the fancy wine. “But, Vivid Illusion, all of those are very nice and romantic things to do for someone you love.” Yes, reader, you are very right. IF YOU DO THEM BECAUSE YOU WANT TO. There’s nothing romantic about having to book a restaurant table weeks in advance, or rushing to be the first one to grab a day off from their boss so they can try their hardest to make everything perfect. It’s like the whole Christmas [link towards Christmas post here] disaster all over again: even if you had anything to be happy about on this day, you might be too exhausted from trying to make it perfect to actually enjoy it.

But what kills me most of all about Valentine’s Day is the principle of celebrating love. On a particular day. The same day that everyone else does it. Love isn’t something that should be commercialized like this. Love is the reason we’re alive (well, most of us, but I don’t think it’s safe going too much intro that). If mommy and daddy didn’t love each other, most of the people reading this blog wouldn’t be here. Love is what keeps us alive, when our moms hold us in their arms and simply know that they would give their own lives to keep us safe. Love is what makes us work harder, when our significant other is unwell and we know we can provide for them. Love is something special, that we should surround ourselves in, every single day, not something we should celebrate on an arbitrary date (yes, not arbitrary, I know. Just forcing a point). The love between you and your partner is not the same with the love between that couple holding hands on the street. It’s completely different from the love between that girl that’s crying on the phone in a café and her boyfriend that’s miles away on a business trip. No two love stories will ever be identical, same as no two couples will love in the same way. Then why take something so intimate and demean it by turning it into a product? How does anyone dare measure their love by how big the heart balloon they gave to their partner is?

You want to celebrate love and happiness? Do you really want to make your significant other feel happy and cherished? Then feel free to celebrate Valentine’s Day however you see fit; but remember to show your love every day besides that. Buy them that occasional box of chocolates, take the time to hold their hand and take a walk through the park. Make silly, funny, cute gestures every chance you get, and tell them that you love them as often as you feel the need to. Because that’s what love is: beauty, warmth, happiness.

At the request of Immah, I'm also going to point out another brilliant aspect of Valentine's Day and of "proofs of love" in general. What is up with all the candy, balloons and stuffed animals?! Aside from the obvious ridiculed of the celebration itself, the choice of gifts is just flabbergasting. You stuff your loved one full of chocolate (look at the bright side: you might get them fat enough and they might not leave you because they'll be insecure); you give them stuffed animals that, in all likelihood, will just end up pilling up dust on some forgotten shelf somewhere; you give them balloons which, like your commercially-induced euphoria, will deflate after a couple of days; if you're really serious about things, you might even get them jewelry, because your love might not be forever, but diamonds are.

 All in all, I have to amend my previous statement: Valentine's Day is not sufficiently stupid on its own; Valentine's Day along with the overrated "symbols of love" you can find at any cornershop, however, make the image complete.

Home is where... where the... Where is Home?

Once again I offer my sincere apologies for being completely incapable of maintaining any schedule, be it self-imposed or enforced by others. In other words: I'm being lazy again.

Despite my talent to procrastinate, it isn't entirely my fault this time around. You see, after the whole Holiday mess that was so eloquently described in our previous post, we eventually had to make our way back to our daily lives in freezing, windy Holland and snow-filled Germany.

Speaking of which, some belated congratulations are in order for Immah, who has successfully breached yet another border and infiltrated the German ranks for roughly 6 months while she's doing her internship there. Maybe a post would be in order from her part, so she can share the Bavarian experience with the rest of us mortals (which would also mean I can postpone writing a post myself).

Back to the point, it's always weird going from home to… well… home. Yeah, I said it. It's not a matter of cultural identity, national pride or anything of the sorts. For most healthy beings, home is where you're comfortable, where you're happy and where you sleep at least 4 nights a week; therefore, it can get a bit confusing when you have a home in Romania, a country whose beauty is overshadowed by some of its less-evolved inhabitants, and another home in the Netherlands (or Germany, for some) where the streets are clean and the stray dogs absent (although there is a slight possibility that both situations are caused by the horrible wind that can probably kill even cockroaches).

  

Jokes aside, I often find myself torn between my birth and adoptive country. They've both been nice, caring, and giving to me. And they've both had many an opportunity to screw me over. But then again, there is one incredibly essential difference between Romania and the Netherlands that has to be pointed out.

The people.

While I can't say I've met every person in either country personally, I can sum up my experience with Romanians and Dutch as follows: hot and cold.

Event that actually took place: after he was struggling with a store door for who knows how long, this poor man received a moment's help from Vivid, which caused him to promptly burst into tears while riding away on his bike. Only in Romania.

Romanians, despite being a part of the former Soviet Union, still track their heritage back to Ancient Romans. And we're so damn proud of it as well. We boast with our Latin blood, using it as an excuse for mostly any outburst. Yes, we are a passionate people. We love, we hate, we rebel, we fight, we drink, we kill, we swear, we cry. And we do all of it with passion. Unfortunately, we're also misguided, conceited, and sometimes ignorant. At our best we are caring, sympathetic, and generous. At our worst we're uncivilized, deceitful, and petty. With the clear distinction that the latter stand out a lot more (not because of numbers, simply because pain, filth and destruction are more easy to notice than an act of kindness).

And then, there is the Dutch people that are simply… cold. They are extremely polite and helpful, but will never go out of their way to do something for you. They will wave or smile back, but just because it's polite to reciprocate. As a whole, they are very well-mannered, just overall decent people. But you'll have a hard time actually gaining their friendship, trust or glimpses of who they actually are. Of course, there is a high possibility that I perceive them as such because I am, after all, a foreigner to them, but it seems more likely that it's simply how they decided to build their society. It's “live and let live”, with a touch of social responsibility. Don't get me wrong, once you manage to penetrate that polite barrier of theirs, they can be pretty amazing people (which applies to most of the Dutch people I've actually befriended), same way I'm convinced some of them are complete scumbags. But it's so frustrating that you never know until it's too late.

Excuse the part about the Germans, Immah has her own humouristic way of seeing the world she lives in. I'm sure she's just teasing.

You learn to love both of them (sorry, German people, I lack exposure here). The same way I'm certain I could learn to love Spanish, Croatian or Norwegian culture. But the weird part is trying to adapt to your new habitat, without losing track of who you are. That's why I said it's not a matter of national identity: all that matters is who YOU are. Just because you were born in a country, doesn't mean you belong to that country; it is entirely up to you where you end up and what you do there, just make sure you do it as YOURSELF.