After posting embarrassingly recently about the crassness of Valentine's Day-geared jewelry ads...I feel obliged to note that I received jewelry for Valentine's Day. Chocolates, too. I also feel obliged to somehow explain why me happily receiving jewelry for Valentine's Day (or for any other day, e.g., Tuesdays in general) is tewtally different from when hordes of my fellow culture-people give and/or receive jewelry on Valentine's Day. So here goes.
Um....
Erm....
Welllllll....
In surfing the innertubes recently (and in private communication), I find that I am not the only one who abhors cheesy jewelry store ads, especially those aired around Valentine's Day. 'Every kiss begins with Kay.' 'He went to Jared!' As an aside, I found the second one particularly perplexing bc it's trying to create the impression that everyone knows what this Jared place is. And I'd never heard of it before, but I see from their store locator that they are spread out across the U.S. I thought its cheese derived, in part, from the fact that it was trying to create that sense that everybody-has-heard-of-Jared before it was the case that everybody-has-heard-of-Jared. Now I suppose I can't think that as reasonably, seeing that it may well be just me who hasn't heard of Jared.
Moving on...so how was Kevin's gift of a beautiful ring different from what I'd just recently blogged about:
And then I moved on to mentally bitching out the wedding industry and the Valentine's Day industry and the jewelry industry and the stupid-let's-pigeonhole-men-and-women-into-roles industry, etc. etc. E.g., I abhor Kay Jewelers commercials. 'Every kiss begins with K.' I abhor the implication that if you give a woman jewelry, you'll get a kiss (and, by further implication, then some). That really, really, really annoys me.
Well, for starters, we exchanged gifts at night, after dinner (and 'Lost', of course), and we went to sleep directly afterwards so the, uh, implied exchange did not occur. And I'll have you know its non-occurrence was a conscious decision on both our parts precisely bc it would have played into patriarchal expectations and we both feel that playing into patriarchal expectations is an insult to our intelligence, humanity and profound love for one another. It was, then, a socio-political-cultural-feminist statement. (Not. We were tired.)
Now, I will delay just a moment longer to note that Mileskit, who is watching this post appear on the screen as I type it, has got to be one of the cutest kittens ever in existence. The 9999999999999999999999999999 p oh noes!!1! Miles got control of the keyboard for a moment there. The rapid-fire delete power of the backspace key seems particularly fascinating to him.
Annnnnnnnyway, my initial thought about why Kevin can give jewelry and I can accept it w/o feeling cheesed out whereas I find the avalanche of commercials that suggest doing just that to be insufferably cheesy...was that it's simply bco the mass market commercialization of the experience. E.g., so often the featured item in such a commercial is somethind diamond-centric: diamond earrings (the classic option for those who want to give a diamond, but not the diamond, IYKWIM); a necklace with diamonds arrayed in the current popular shape (e.g., a circle of diamonds; enough w/that design already plskthxbai); a diamond bracelet (not as popular unless you're going for big bucks jewelry and giving a tennis bracelet); the awwwwwwwww-inducing diamond engagement ring. It's the idea that every woman would go ape-shit over receiving something that every other woman would go ape-shit over receiving something that every other woman would go ape-shit over receiving something that every other woman...and by ape-shit I mean clasp one's hands to the sides of one's face and squeal in delight, gazing in wide wonder at the joy they had found: first, the awe-inspiring bauble; then, shifting to gaze upon the unbelievable guy who had the creativity to give one - you! little old you! - diamonds!
Whereas, at home last night, Kevin gave me a ring that he knew I would like bc he knows that:
- I prefer colored gems to diamonds
- when diamonds are used, I prefer them as accents rather than the main thing (bc as accents I like the way they play up the colored gems)
- I prefer two-tone or silver to gold
- I like sets; the ring matches a necklace and pair of earrings he gave me on previous occasions. Why do I like sets? Bc I'm uncoordinated enough to appreciate not having to decide what looks good w/what. If Garanimals for Adults existed, I'd wear that.
We interrupt this screed to note that Mileskit's cuteness is truly boundless; limitless; infinite. Seriously.
The important thing is not that the above is what I like, i.e., it's not the particular things I like. The important thing is that Kevin (like many people) knows his partner well enough to be able to select something she likes. I.e., he needn't take his cue from Kay Jewelers or Jared or whichever stranger wishes to advise him on gift choice for his partner.
Oops, gotta go. I recently read another blogger's post about time management wherein she mentions that she limits herself to 30 minutes of blogging per day. Obviously, I don't blog that much, but I do surf a bit and I often find that my surfing doesn't really add much to my life. So, since I do enjoy blogging and that enjoyment adds to my life, I've decided to trade surf time for blogging time and limit it to 30 minutes. So I'm kinda cutting off this anti-commercialism rant. I do have a few other thoughts on the subject, but (a) I think the one above is the main point and (b) so what?
As always, I am most interested in hearing what others think on this, especially if you find problems with my opinions, have another perspective on it, etc.
Now, I gotta go shower; have breakfast (besides my delicious Valentine's Day chocolates); head over to Pharmacy Creations to pick up Dolly's chicken flavored budesonide and leukeran; do some laundry so I have something clean to wear to Roma for dinner tonight (looking forward to heart-shaped ravioli!); tidy up the joint; and finally balance my checkbook.
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