People want to know how I spent Valentine’s Day. Let me just say first and foremost that I don’t condone American holidays such as this, or Halloween, in a country where they have no historical tradition whatsoever. We hardly have any catholics at all.
On the other hand you could say the idea behind Valentine’s, if you rule out marketing and consumerism, is love, and I would be a fool to be against love. I don’t just encourage love, I promote it. But why do we have to have a day for it? Why can’t all days be about love? Why can’t all we do be about love? That brings us back to marketing and consumerism.
Cocoa added sugar and a handful of vegetation, in poor lighting. Romantic.
I spent Valentine’s like you’re supposed to. Did some work, went out for a dinner and saw a movie. But I was all on my own. Did I feel bad about it? Not at all. I was alone, yes, but I wasn’t lonely. Some times you need some time alone, and you need to do stuff on your own. Besides, I’m not sure Stalker is the best movie to go to if you want to taste some of that sweet, sweet love. It got me thinking, though, and before I knew it I’d written an essay-monologue keeping in the spirit. Yet again I remembered why I go to the Cinemateque at all. For inspiration. Good experience there.
Today I got my hair cut. It grows really fast, and when I told the hairdresser that I cut it back to 4mm before x-mas she didn’t believe me. She was cute, and she’d picked the wrong top for a job where you have to bend over. I got my hair cut and some top class cleavage, for nothing more than 100 NOK. I should have asked her to be my Valentine.
I would normally have waited to get this done, because it’s one of those things that I don’t really understand. My hair growth (on the head) is phenomenal, so I barely see the point. I go from curly teddy bear to nazi and back to curly teddy bear again. But I’ve got a big dinner tonight. My workplace is celebrating a 25 year anniversary, and there’s going to be speeches, dinner, drinks and dancing. Can’t have a fluffy hair when you’re dining with the Prime Minister of Norway.
Don’t believe me? Check out his calendar. No big deal, he held a speech at the summer party too. I hope the Minister of Cultural Affairs is there, ’cause I slagged him off the last time I saw him, and I didn’t really mean to. I had just spent half an hour arguing with an arrogant prick from the US Embassy that I felt inclined to throw off the balcony we were standing on. For the sake of the human race. Or just for fun.
No, but seriously, I don’t dine with the rich and wealthy, I dine because there’s plenty of good food that I don’t have to pay for. It’s not that I’m cheap. I’m not. If I catch you, baby, you won’t know what hit you. But I’m still a man, and as a man I grab every opportunity I can get for a free meal. Or free beer. I’ve read that the entrance fee for this conference is above the 3000 NOK mark (more than $485 USD, €370 or 3765 Chinese Yuan Renminbi, if you’re in China). It’s an expensive dinner that I would only pay for for a woman I really cared about. Now I get it for free. And if it weren’t for the occasional eating out I would certainly have died a long time ago from malnutrition. It’s a matter of personal health. I’m obliged to go. So I got a haircut.