Al Capone thanks you for the card

It's been far too long since I spewed the contents of my mind onto my computer. Much of that is due to the fact that second semester has begun. As such, much of my brain power is being diverted from creative endeavors to scholastic work. This is a sad reality, but a reality nonetheless.

I wish I could say that my classes have given me a lot to ponder, that ideas are flowing between my professors and myself. Sadly, that is not the case. I am reading Beowulf, something I have wanted to do for some time and am now getting to do for class. It's a wonderful poem and I highly recommend it.

The only thing that has been kicking around my mind recently, aside from classes, is the fact that I am no longer a teenager. I turned twenty a week ago. I meant to write a post commemorating the occasion but was distracted by a number of things. Most notably, St. Valentine's Day.

My birthday happens to fall on Valentine's day, and every year I have mixed feelings about this. As a child, I was always a little angry that the decorations weren't for me, and that everyone got cards on my day. I have utmost pity for anyone whose birthday falls on or near Christmas or any other gift giving holiday. On the other hand, people respond differently to the fact that it's my birthday than they would otherwise.

As I grew older and came to understand what Valentine's day meant to our society at large, I became even more angry. "Should not people tell one another that they care on every day of the year?" thought I. "Of course they should!" I responded. This is, of course, not necessarily reasonable. What really irks me about the holiday is just how much stock people take in it. I simply can not believe how many relationships are made and broken on February the Fourteenth.

Now, I have a girlfriend. We've been together for over a year now, and have had two Valentine's Day's together. I was frank with her last year and said that I don't like the holiday. I feel like such a whiny bastard saying that because it is my birthday but, the fact is, I wouldn't like it either way. So I made a point to tell her that I appreciate her, but I make a point to do that anyway.

Another thing that irks me about the holiday is the number of people who make a big deal out of the fact that I do not make a big deal about the holiday. Here's my response to them: "Wouldn't you rather people celebrated you were it your birthday?" Sure, it's a little vain but, to be fair, I don't sound like such an asshole when I say it.

I guess it's my way of telling people to not take too much stock in a holiday on which a massacre occurred (and here I'm referring to the St. Valentine's Day Massacre of 1929, not the horrible tragedy that occurred at Northern Illinois University last week).