Listen up, world. It’s Dana here, your girl. Long time, no see—and by “long time” I mean approximately the last 24 hours and by “no see” I mean I have only left my room once to trek up Thayer (headphones in and listening to The Carpenters) to procure the sweet nourishing nectar of a tropical smoothie from the creatively named Tropical Smoothie Café.
And to riff off the soft words of Karen Carpenter, just like she, I’ve longed to be close to somebody. It’s ~Valentine’s Week~ after all. ;D But (*le sigh*) the only bae I’m cuddling on this long February night are some spiteful germs that want to dull my iridescent shine (influenza is my #3 hater, right after low rise denim and lactose).
That’s right. I’ve fallen ill, just when I am meant to be at my most Powerful: I love kitsch, I love craft, I love Love. Despite logic and some foundational Marxist theory, I buy into the commercial zest of Valentine’s Day every year. I’m not entirely proud of this, but most February the 14ths, you will find me wearing some Peter Pan collared frock and handing out homemade, heart-shaped confections. Days where it is acceptable to dress and live ~in theme~ are my World Series and I’m batting .400, bby.
And yet, here I lie. Dressed out of theme and drifting in-and-out of consciousness. Writing these words in the dark sanctity of my room, basking in the isolating glow of my MacBook as the world outside me Burns in Love.
But guess what? The typing fingers of two strangers who recently matched on Tinder aren’t the only things hot with revelation. In my fevered state, I’ve made a couple of enlightening realizations about relationships, love, and orange juice. Here they are:
- The word “babe” is an abomination and will be banned as such under federal law as soon as I am the Executive of this country.
- Your exes have definitely looked at your LinkedIn profile. If you haven’t had any exes, use this as motivation to finally actually set up your LinkedIn profile beyond just creating the account. Let them know that you are a young, hot professional (#YoHoPro) when you inevitably breakup (#YoHoPros don’t! have! time! for anything long term).
- Orange juice, with a whopping 33g of sugar in a 12 fluid oz serving, is one of the unhealthiest Marketed as Healthy Things of all time. With this knowledge in mind, I will continue to drink it, vigorously and unbothered, thinking of the Vitamin C (that I could realistically find from better sources, like an actual piece of fruit) flooding my senses.
- In fact, lemme take that back. Perhaps societally projected notions of love and romance, with all their sticky-sweet connotations that leave me with a bit of a grumbly tummy, are the unhealthiest Marketed as Healthy Things of all time…and yet, I will continue to drink it, vigorously and unbothered, thinking of all the Serotonin (that I could realistically find from better sources, like an actual reconciliation with my own mental health) flooding my senses.
(Haha lmao too deep, too deep, it’s the flu talking. Gotta go drink some fluids, take a NyQuil, and love myself or something).
Image via Sarah Clapp.