It made me quite angry actually, the way they made a joke out of the whole affair.
Its supposed to a good occasion, and I’ve nothing against celebrating good occasions-but they’ve made a joke out of the whole affair. Oh, the travesty of it all.
A friend asked me today, “Would you celebrate Valentine’s Day?”
What with the commercialized packages- the glamourous advertising for jewellery, flowers with prices marked up to more than ten times their cost, and strange activities thought up by what must be the most desperate of minds for creativity. I only wonder how the experience of the couples who signed up for the candlelight dinner on the Gourmet Love Tram at the night safari must have been. Perhaps they thought $500 was a really good price to pay for novelty, in order to experience gastronomical discomfort and strange olfactory sensations. Im sure it was memorable.
There is so much advertising. Each idea trumping the next, trying to outdo one another.
The travesty of it all.
Flowers are found on bushes, on trees, and in wild, wild fields of nature. We pick them because of their beauty and allure, and give them to each other as gifts of affection, love and appreciation. Flowers must be chosen from the heart for the specific person in mind, and they must be exciting, wild and free. One cannot, should not, must not ever pre-package flowers. Flowers are free, always should be. In our attempt to express the unarticulated love we have, we can only do our best to try and capture that sense of freedom in a bouquet. A bouquet that stems from sincerity, and spontenity.
Bouquets make or break flowers. They have the power either to entrap flowers with their predictability, grotesquely outrageous prices or unthoughtfulness, or the power to set them absolutely free. Free. Bouquets are set free by sincerity, love and thoughtfulness.
Pre-packaged flowers, handpicked by a third party and chosen and wrapped by someone else with someone else in mind and chucked away in a freezer- are not Free. Behind glassy fridge doors, they really have become imprisoned, because they were not given to whom they were meant for.
The nerve of florists to pre-package them so that pubescent boys can come pick one up conveniently like an answer to a multiple choice question at marked up prices so they can impress a squealing girlfriend (is that what they call it?), and the audacity of grown men to buy them at exorbidant prices appall me.
The travesty of it all. It is an indictment of what we call love, what we call gifts.
It is the prices which sicken me most of all. They are marked up so much they buy us into believing it is the way to show our love. Some of the men who spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on frivolous bouquets with the intention to impress also happen to be ones who wave off perspiring secondary school students selling flags in the hot sun to raise money for worthy causes, only grudgingly finding a coin or two when they have their girlfriends’ arm around theirs.
Scumbags.
How anyone could find celebrating their love on a day where everyone is expecting everyone else to be doing the same thing romantic at all baffles me, to say the least.
But I restrain myself. For I’ve never celebrated it before. And I must apologise, and also add a disclaimer. Because there are always exceptions, and one must not be quick to judge others. Perhaps a couple had met at the zoo and a tram ride at the night safari perfectly encapsulated their feelings for each other; perhaps the knight had bumped into a dragon and had to slay it to save the maiden, and henceforth had no choice but to pick up a –gasp- pre-packaged bouquet before the clock turned twelve.
And if those expensive, expensive gifts were bought with sincerity and a lot of love, then who am I to judge anyone.
But if you ask me, I’d rather a gift of the monetary equivalent on a cheque instead addressed to children in Uganda, instead of some commercial package specially designed to rip unsuspecting couples off. Now, that would be hot.
Like I said, there are always exeptions. And I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot by ruining my own story for romance.
But surely we can agree, that there is a difference between spending on someone you love, and indulging in nauseating extravagance.
We come to realize at some point, that all the gifts that were most memorable really don’t cost much at all. A drawing, a card, a thoughtful act, quality time, or best of all, a free hug given out of the blue, not for any occassion, just spontaneously, randomly.
Because perhaps it really is true- that the best things in life come for free. And we needn’t try too hard to impress.
I had friends from church come over to my place yesterday. It was a very simple affair, with simple presents and simple things. It was most delightful.
After everyone had left, there was a lot food leftover, still. I packed up a box and delivered it to Grandpa Zhou.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Don’t go, say grace for me first.” I did, after which he dug into his smelly, old green bag and handed me a red packet, from the same red packet envelope I had given to him for Chinese new year. For Chinese people, it is a tradition for married couples to give red packets to single youth, as a symbol of sending their blessings and wellwishes.
“You have done a lot for me. I don’t know how to express my gratitude, but I hope you will accept my little gift of thanks. It really is nothing, but thank you for all you’ve been doing for me. I hope you don’t mind my poor Chinese writing behind.”
He had written the Chinese characters of my name and his well-wishes: Wishing you a Happy Chinese New Year, may your medical skills shine like Hua Tuo’s. From Grandpa Zhou. Hua Tuo was an ancient doctor from China who established himself as one of the forefather’s of medicine.
I laughed. There was money inside. “You’re giving me money?” I laughed and smiled at him, and thanked him in return. For worse than receiving the wrong type of presents, is returning them to someone who gave it to you. I accepted it.
It contained 6 dollars.
Simple presents, simple people. Thoughtfulness, spontaneity and sincerity. The beauty of randomness.
Because perhaps, just perhaps, the best things in life really don’t cost much at all.
