I used to hate birthdays, christmas, easter, and especially valentine's day. I used to hate the idea of expressing thought through something that had been manufactured and packaged and put on a store shelf without any thought. What turns your pocket change into something thoughtful, something of value? A penny for your thoughts, a dime for your cares, and $20 for your friendship.

The problem was I used to express these feelings, a lot. "All I want," I would tell my friends/family/whoever asked, "is for you to make something." And I usually got the explanation of how they weren't artistic or creative. "I don't care." I would say. And it's so true. And as a result, some self-proclaimed non-creative people have done some pretty amazing things. I've had paper mache ballerinas made, paper scissors collected in a russell stover box, amazing letters and picture collages, treasure maps and handmade books of the self-help nature.

I feel bad though, because I have been given some really beautiful and thoughtful things that have been bought, and I realize there isn't a clear cut line between the two. Granted that line may have been crossed when my first boyfriend gave me bath soap for my birthday (don't try to redeem him with sexual innuendos in that one, either. We were in 9th grade.) But there have been some amazing presents too. A ring passed down to me that was originally my great-great grandmother's. A shotglass with "some days I wish I were a missing person" written on it. Some pretty spectacular books. A build-your-own Mummy kit, though I think that was originally given to my little sister.

I was asked last night what I wanted to do for valentine's day this year. My answer was surprise me, and even that I realize was creating a challenge for someone that I know doesn't need to prove anything. I realize that my approach before was stupid and silly and wrong, and last night too, because all I want to do is be with the people that I care about and care about me, but instead I just seem to be confusing them.