I read this early this morning and it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I’ve been feeling like I’ve been keeping a lot of secrets lately and what better way to share them without actually giving them all away? I’ve actually written my own list before, but felt it sort of lost something when people started guessing which sentence (confession? admission?) was about them and I told them. So I’ve decided to try again. New thoughts, new people and this time my lips are sealed.

We actually stole it more than once.

It would be easier if I loved you, but I don’t. So stop trying to make me.

It would be easier if I didn’t love you, but I do.

You are not allergic, you just don’t like it. There is a difference.

An ultimatum will not work, it shocks me that you think it would.

I wish you wouldn’t do things that make it impossible for me to like you.

I think of that talk everyday single day.

You tell me too much.

I avoid you because I know I keep letting you down.

Sometimes I wish you would just let me down- it would level the playing field.

I don’t get you anymore and it makes me sad.

You are the funniest, weirdest and most original person ever and I’m completely jealous of your brain.

I wish I knew how to be closer to you.

You keep pronouncing it wrong and I don’t know how to correct you without looking like a jerk.

So I’ve moved past my obsession with celebrity life (farewell glossy US Weekly and star sighting proving that they are “just like us!”) and have discovered that reading other peoples blogs is highly entertaining and unusually comforting (knowing that a gal in New Jersey wants to wear sweat pants but just can’t make herself because of how she feels when she wears them really hit home with me). Usually I lurk without commenting, but when I read this I had to reply. Those of you who know me, know that I enjoy anything that gives me a reason not to do actual work and I feel contemplating my views on the letter “F” clearly provides me with that opportunity.

This is how to change your life: Write ten words that start with the letter you are assigned and a brief description of why you chose that particular word. If you feel this might be something that you too would like to participate in to stall you from doing work, email me and I will give you a letter. And no, it won’t be X.

The Letter F

1. Fanta: The greatest beverage of all time. If it was possible (and not highly disgusting) I would figure out a way to have an IV of it started up and permanently inserted into my arm. Fanta was also chosen because it’s the only beverage (in 6-pack form) I carried in my already too-heavy backpack while traipsing across Europe. My love for it is strong and deep, like a river some might say.

2. Friday: My favourite day of the week.

3. Foosball: The one game that I can’t seem to improve upon. I try to play angles and learn defensive strategies but I’ve come to the startling conclusion that the only time I win is when my opponent is drunk (or just, more drunk than me), or when we play partners and my partner is amazing. I could take my lumps and stay a horrible player, but that goes against everything I stand for. This is why I insist on playing whenever I see a table.

4. Faux: As in the only type of fur I can wear without getting the shivers. My mom is determined that I will jump on the ‘fur bandwagon’ and will one day express a strong desire to want to wear her old fur coats. I don’t see the idea of wearing a dead carcass on my back fashionable, so the coats remain in storage.

5. “Fever”: The one song it’s not only cool but freaking mandatory to snap your fingers along to and sing with your eyes closed. (I’m partial to the Peggy Lee version)

6. Franck: The greatest character in “Father of the Bride”. Don’t get me wrong, Steve Martin is great but Martin Short makes me giggle every time.

7. Floss: I feel like I’m an adult because I take this seriously. I console myself with the fact that I still haven’t boarded the train of ‘mainstream boring adult’ because the floss still needs to be flavored. Currently, I’m rocking mint.

8. “F!”: The letter I yell out when I’m angry. Like, when I drop a paint can on my foot. However, if the paint can is full and I’m wearing open toed shoes I might elevate it to “fuck”, but I prefer saying “f”. It’s funnier (and that’s important when my foot is throbbing), plus I work with kids so I try not to get into the habit of dropping the f bomb- it shocks the kids into uncomfortable silence and leaves parents less than impressed. Trust me.

9. Fred Flintstone: I like playing Scattegories and you get double points when you list something/someone who has double the letter. So my gaming nature makes it necessary to include Fred. Another Fred Flintstone note, I must imitate his bowling move every time I’m at the bowling alley. It’s official, I’m a dork.

10. Fate: An idea that keeps me up at night (even more than the idea of failure- another f word), watching Larry King reruns.

Valentines Day is approaching. Actually, I feel like it charging towards me in a blur of pink and red cellophane. I first noticed this the second week of January while at the mall searching for new mittens. Rows and rows of pink and red boxed chocolates, (enough to throw a diabetic into a seizure with a single glance), stuffed toys clutching hearts with stitched cliches and bouquets of roses were all crammed together in a shiny, blurry wonderland of love. It sort of made me nauseous.

As a kid I loved Valentines Day. I’m a craft dork, so the idea of using special scissors and thick construction paper to make cards for everyone I loved seemed not only fun but insanely exciting. I liked the idea of knowing there was one day a year it was expected to say exactly how you felt, the fact the world was smeared in pink and the discovery of who liked you by how they signed their name on their Valentine to you -From? Love? Always?.

I’ve kept valentines that meant something to me and as I look at them I realize that none are from recent boyfriends or guys I met after I got my drivers licence. They are all from a time before spell check and self doubt. My favorite one I received in grade three from a boy with messy blonde hair. It has glue smears on the front and the inside reads (in messy boy printing) “ I’m not 100% shure, but I think I might like you. I will let you know”. I miss that.

Now I feel like Valentine’s Day is the a holiday that truly divides mankind into two groups each unwilling to concede that the other group may be onto something. (Forget the war, it’s Valentine’s Day that’s splitting the world apart) There is the group who loves, loves, loves Valentines Day (and are unsurprisingly spending the day with someone they love, love, love) and the group who hates the holiday and views it as “just another opportunity by large corporations to make you feel like you need to buy shit you don’t need to show people you care” as one friend so eloquently put it. Of course, these are extremes I’ve noticed over the years so in a fit of Elle Woods inspired productivity; I went to the streets and asked the people. (Okay, so I mass emailed, it’s cold outside.) Here is what I found…

My theory of the two opposing groups holds steady- sort of. The majority of coupled girls love the holiday. Not for the opportunity to show someone you love them (“I don’t need a day to tell my boyfriend I love him”) but because you like getting presents (“when else is it mandatory that I get flowers?”). I’m not going to lie, as a single girl I found this to be a disappointing discovery. You’ve found him! You shouldn’t just expect flowers, you should go bowling and drink soda with straws! Seriously though, I may be single but I’ve dated enough to know that expecting things from a man to ground you in happiness will never lead to anything good. (Also, I’m now considering the fact that I may still be single because I think bowling and drinking soda constitutes romance.)

Coupled guys have other ideas. The majority doesn’t like the pressure it puts them under (“I hate knowing that she’s imagined something better than whatever I end up doing”). Fair enough. I love my gender but after talking to what some of the coupled girls are expecting… this Valentines, I would be wary too. Heads up ladies, none of you are getting proposed to on a glacier with a string orchestra in the background- at least none that I know of.

Single guys hate it because they think “that much attention to a holiday focused on flowers is stupid”. One insightful (and refreshingly honest) guy admitted that he didn’t like it Valentines Day because it made not being in love feel like he was failing.

Single girls seem to feel it’s necessary to show the world (and themselves) that they are not just okay but are thriving this holiday season by going out in large packs. High-heeled, low cut shirt armies that take over pubs and recount all the reasons they are glad they are single (#1 being you won’t be disappointed when your boyfriend forgets it’s Valentines Day). Some recounted these nights made them feel better, confirming they are not alone. Others admitted they felt worse and woke up with a hangover plus a few phone numbers of guys they would never have considered taking if they weren’t trying so hard to feel like they were happy alone.

In short, I guess no one is guaranteed a perfect Valentines Day regardless of your dating status. My friend Andy pointed out that Valentines is a lot like New Years. A lot of expectations with no guarantees it’s going to result in love, love, love. I suppose the best any of us can hope for is a construction paper Valentine from someone who tells you exactly how they feel- even if they are not 100% sure.