every day.
hahah.
or at least, i will if/when i get a lover.
of all the memories in my life, i know of only one time when my mom gave my dad a valentine's day card.
the card was really cute, my mom meant it as a joke, but she meant what was on the card, and my dad got really embarrassed in that cute way and gave a funny smile, and that's the only real "valentine's day" exchange that went on in my family ever (to my knowledge) between my parents, who are, pretty much madly in love with eachother.
i think i asked my dad something like why its not a big deal to us, valentine's day, and basically he replied with something that gave me the impression that well yeah, you should celebrate love and appreciation and admiration and respect and sacrifice and commitment and yadda yadda pretty much every day, and we do, and such is life, and when we feel like being special we just be special without having to wait for the 14th of february.
there was definitely some of my own interpretation thrown in there haha but thats pretty much what he meant im sure.
my parents had an arranged marriage. haha some people find it hard to believe that. it wasn't an intense arranged marriage like, wow you wake up one day and your room as been mysteriously transformed into a wedding fandango of a place and your mom walks in and she's like hey! you're getting married today!
none of that.
it was more of a hey, i know a guy you might like.
i know a girl you might like.
families meet. families like. boy and girl meet. boy and girl like. my mom actually really liked my dad. i'm sure my dad liked my mom too but he was pretty much willing to go along with whoever his family picked for him. i know that might sound weird but my dad has a lot of faith in his family and he trusted that they wouldn't pick like some awful wench. they didnt. they picked my mom. =)
i think that my parents as young unmarried people must have led very good moral lives and then God decided to reward them with each other. It's funny because they are different personality-wise, like really really different, but then they are so similar in so many other ways. Obviously. hahaha i realize that could happen between anyone. The thing that gets me, and i was talking to ashley about this too because her parents are the same way, is that my parents are like, NEVER EVER bored of eachother. they could talk to eachother the whole day. and they never run out of things! of course they dont talk to eachother the WHOLE day haha, but its just... see i dont even know what to say about it. but its good.
one time my mom dad and i were watching tv together. well, it was mostly me watching tv and they were, talking to eachother. hahah. and then i saw that my dad had his hand kind of on my moms leg and then my mom put her hand on his hand and they were still talking and ugh i just wanted to die because it was so little and so big at the same time.
i dont think i have ever seen my parents kiss. or hug. maybe go arm in arm. but whatever cuz that hand thing was beautiful.
and its NOT like they have never fought. they've definitely had some fights of varying degrees. but i guess its even necessary and inevitable.
last week in my poetry fiat lux, Professor Sheats said something that I think should be quoted forever.
"When you're angry with someone, you're very close to them."
Kind of an unsettling thought, but in its irony, it's perfectly true.
But yeah.
Anyway i really dont know what the point of me posting random tidbits about my parents on valentine's day is. except maybe now you'll understand a little bit more about why i dont freak out in a negative fashion whenever i hear "arranged marriage".
so here's something for all of you that didnt get anything out of that at all:
the best love poem i have read in my life.
(courtesy of today's fiat luxe) =p
By our main man William Shakespeare
Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
__________________________________
and just for the heck of it
heres the poem that i recited for the class today.
By Alastair Reid
Curiosity
may have killed the cat; more likely
the cat was just unlucky, or else curious
to see what death was like, having no cause
to go on licking paws, or fathering
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.
Nevertheless, to be curious
is dangerous enough. To distrust
what is always said, what seems
to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams,
leave home, smell rats, have hunches
do not endear cats to those doggy circles
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches
are the order of things, and where prevails
much wagging of incurious heads and tails.
Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die--
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.
Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.
Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible,
are changeable, marry too many wives,
desert their children, chill all dinner tables
with tales of their nine lives.
Well, they are lucky. Let them be
nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay
the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again,
each time with no less pain.
A cat minority of one
is all that can be counted on
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell
on each return from hell
is this: that dying is what the living do,
that dying is what the loving do,
and that dead dogs are those who do not know
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.
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