Promise Rings are a Fallacy

"The idea of a promise ring originated centuries ago as lovers promised each other they'd get engaged to wed one day. This romantic tradition lives on at Robbins Brothers in the form of these beautiful promise rings that symbolize loyalty and commitment before engagement, during a relationship or as a vow to a loved one."

So many logical fallacies, so little time.

If you've known me for any length of time you've probably already heard me rant about how ridiculous i think promise rings are. This particular rant is inspired by the fact that Facebook decided to change up the weight-loss ads they're sending me with a few for promise rings. Promise rings are ontologically ridiculous. What exactly are you promising that doesn't fall under the job description of "significant other" or "fiance"? Maybe i lack subtlety but i can't see any discernible difference between promising to get engaged and being engaged, other than perhaps a little less pressure to pick a date. It seems cowardly, though; as if you want to lock something down but aren't actually willing to make a committment. Besides, there are way cheaper old-school ways to show you belong to your lover. A lock of hair comes to mind. Another option is peeling an apple and carrying it under your armpit for a few days then passing it off to your lover. It's called a love apple. Seriously.

Besides, 80% (i actually did the math) of the couples i know who involved promise rings broke up eventually. Maybe promise rings are cursed. Watch out.

Mom came and visited last week--it was nice, but anyway, it reminded me of a rant i've been wanting to go on for a long time. Now that i'm in post-graduate-keep-writing-unless-i-atrophy-panic mode (either that or i just don't know what else to do) i'll indulge. Because really, what else is a blog for?

Mother's Day drives me crazy. i know pretty much all holidays as we know them are rife with capitalistic commodity fetishism and don't mean a whole heck of a lot but usually, i can see at least some redeeming value--and maybe a little joy--in celebrating them. Not Mother's Day. That holiday only forcibly reminds me of a)what a bad child i so often am and b)why i don't want to be a mother. Have you ever noticed that a woman's personhood gets totally subsumed under her identity as mother? For example, a few years ago i was driving by the local mall sometime in May and the readerboard outside proclaimed "Shop Mom's favorite store--Gadgets and Goodies!" It's a kitchen store, and the assumptions they were making made me angry. For one thing, why does a kitchen store have to be mom's favorite? Moms feed their children out of necessity; and I'm sure many enjoy cooking, but really, isn't that a bit selfish of me to get my Mom a tool she can use to continue serving me? "Here's a bundt pan, Mom. Bake me a cake." I know my mom likes having nice things to cook with, but i'm pretty sure that there are at least five other things she'd rather do. Amazingly enough, some of those activities probably have more to do with her personality and taste than with the fact that she is a Mother.

I guess you could argue that Mother's Day is designed for celebrating her identity as your mother, and her birthday is for celebrating her personhood. I don't know. I just think that lots of mothers probably wind up with stuff that means little to them because we as their children are too lazy to pay attention to which exhibit at the museum she spent the most time in, or whatever.

Father's Day, on the other hand, seems to have Dads pretty well pegged--likes golfing and fishing, impossible to shop for. Handy eh?

The library closes in one hour. i'm twelve sources and 20 pages away from finishing the last paper of my graduate career.

i keep trying to blog but it's not really working out at the moment. Sometime soon i'll manage.

Currently Reading The Wind in the Willows By Kenneth Grahame see related

It's done, and now i'm having separation anxiety.

Seriously. Usually i get papers done right at the deadline and am thinking something like "awesome, i'm done, get this the heck out of here i can't say any more." This time, though, i cradled the bound copy in my arms all the way back from Kinko's and really didn't want to hand it in. When you've spent so many months on a project it's really hard to let it go, and besides, there were so many more things i could have talked about. My 'works cited' page barely covered half of the archive i'd amassed in the course of this project. Plus--Thomas Lynch's The Undertaking was my primary cultural object for this paper, and i've been rereading it this week. You'd think i'd be sick of dead people, but no.

i miss my thesis.

Something must be really wrong with me.