Regular listeners -- and I hope that's you -- know that I mercilessly trash Valentine's Day every year. This year was no exception. It's not the day itself I object to. It's the general feeling that only pathetic losers are unattached, coupled with the nonstop flow of syrupy sweet emotion, which only serves to remind us of what we're missing.
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As you may or may not know, one of my tasks in the rock penthouse is to supervise the Love Songs With Delilah show on our partner station. The nonstop flow of Valentine's love doesn't help when it comes to feeling less alone. It's my job, so I usually insulate myself from the sentiment, much as a bank teller gets no particular thrill from grasping hundreds of dollars in her fist. Sometimes, though, it adds up, and the cynic in me takes over. That's when I start thinking that there has to be more to life than wandering day to day and making sure people get their proper quota of classic rock that really rocks.
This evening, I saw something so beautiful that it made me cry. My tears brought into focus the reason that I hate being alone. Those tears, and the powerful rush of emotion that brought them on, will die with me. Their story will never be told because I have no one to share my beauty and tears. I hope to love again someday, if only so beauty and tears will be something more than just my sad companions.
Today's Lesson? I may feel better tomorrow. I probably will feel better tomorrow. I may even do something positive to help myself deal with my fatalistic attitude. Tonight, though, I'm going to cry. It's what I do
StevenK
Touching. ...
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