Every time Feb. 14 rolls around, an inexplicable feeling of love is heightened. Since the beginning of February, campus was enveloped with hushed murmurs of students sharing their plans for Valentine’s Day, in addition to red and pink roses at every flower shop and clever cards that speak what our hearts fail to say.

There’s something about love that makes people nervous. The feeling of being desired and wanted cannot be told through words. This simple idea, embedded in movies, music, poetry and literature is, I think, the driving force in everything that we do.

Just how much leverage this simple four-letter word has on all of us has always baffled me. It seems we can’t escape the cycle, nor do we ever want to. The famous lyrics ‘The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return,’ penned by Eden Ahbez in his 1940s song ‘Nature Boy,’ cements that feeling.

Helen Fisher, an anthropologist from Rutgers University quoted in a January 2008 Time article, ‘The Science of Romance: Why We Love,’ commented, ‘People compose poetry, novels, sitcoms for love. They live for love, die for love, kill for love. It can be stronger than the drive to stay alive.’

But I wonder if this perpetual reminder has led us to over-romanticize our lives in an effort to stomp ourselves out of the habitual motions that we always perform. The problems and ticks that we must deal with on a day-to-day basis don’t seem as problematic in comparison to the presence of love. The argument against Valentine’s Day has always been the same: Why do we need one day to commemorate the love we have for someone when we should be doing that every single day?

There really is no fallacy in that argument, but unfortunately, it’s just not realistic. We’ve become so accustomed to experiencing what romance should be through all these social mediums that this sensationalism has conflicted with how we really feel about love. Keith Smith, a sophomore in the Bandier Program for Music and the Entertainment Industries, said that because the idea of love is in every song and movie, it has deteriorated into merely a generic, basic concept.

‘Love doesn’t become something defined. It’s something you are,’ Smith said. ‘It should be about ‘I am love, and I want to express that to every individual,’ instead of equating it with only romance.’

Nevertheless, I don’t think over-romanticizing is necessarily a bad thing. It becomes an outlet for us to dream bigger than what we’re capable of accomplishing in real life. Reality rarely clashes with fantasy and over-romanticizing about a love that’s bigger than ordinary opens us to be daring and spontaneous.

Sheri Ann Laza-Schmitz, a junior international relations major, said sometimes it may be important for us to over-romanticize. ‘Movies do it because they’re obligated to give viewers that feigned outlook,’ Laza-Schmitz said. ‘But we can’t fall into the cycle thinking that romance becomes a generic feeling. Then what’s the point?’

I still can’t decide between which one I’d rather prefer. Over-romanticism does give newer and broader meanings to the metaphor of love, but the practice of celebrating it has petrified me since I’ve understood the notion of what it observes.

Angela Hu is a sophomore magazine journalism and English and textual studies major. Her column appears weekly, and she can be reached at ajhu01@syr.edu.

Published on February 13, 2010 at 12:00 pm