There’s something in the air. Could it be a cloud of radon gas silently rising from the DeKalb water? Is it the sound of Howard Dean’s head exploding? Nope, it’s the buzz of impending doom: Valentine’s Day is approaching!

Valentine’s Day means different things to different people. To some, it signals yet another day when they can express their true and undying (but not neurotic) adoration for their beloved, properly demonstrated by the 10 bunches of 12 (organically grown) long-stemmed (personalized) roses, surrounding heart-shaped boxes of (low-cal) carob chocolate treats, which are only but a prelude to a home-cooked meal (or catered Le Circe) to be shared together.

We call these people idiots.

Because for most of us dwelling in the less shiny “real world,” Valentine’s Day has different connotations. It means just another day to spend eating a McDonald’s value meal alone while watching “Lost” as the Humane Society people arrive to start rescuing your 50 cats- or some variation on a similar theme. Maybe it’s Burger King and lots of birds, or Taco Bell and ferrets, whatever.

Marketing for Valentine’s Day begins at approximately 12:01 a.m. the day after Christmas. Groundhog Day once inhabited the illustrious post-Christmas holiday spot, but Hallmark found it more profitable to play upon people’s feelings of guilt, personal inadequacy and unhealthy obsession than to produce cards that read: “So I heard his shadow was seen by that hog, six more weeks of winter smog!” Or: “Too bad Phil’s not a beaver, hope you don’t catch cabin fever!”

And once again, Hallmark has succeeded in its evil propaganda plot. This year’s ad is the latest attempt to show women how the guy they are with will never be as good as the man in the commercial. This man uses a series of strategically placed notes to lure his lady-love up to the roof for a romantic dinner, with desert served by the Hallmark chocolates bear – which is only, gasp! $45 with the purchase of 13 Hallmark cards. Awwww. In the commercials, the neighbors (always portrayed as kindly little-old-lady types) beam at the lucky gal as she makes the climb to the roof. In the real world, the cards wouldn’t still be in the halls, they would have been stolen. The guy wouldn’t have made it to the roof, because what apartment building has a roof like that? I get the impression the entire commercial is geared toward creating an alternative universe of unobtainable romance which can only be achieved by purchasing Hallmark merchandise, and I know the good people at Hallmark wouldn’t toy with us like that!

Instead of continuing to buy into a Hallmark-ized version of this holiday, we should all make an effort to decommercialize love and try to find it in our everyday lives. Romance is the car not hitting you as you jaywalk through the intersection of Lucinda and Annie Glidden. True affection is the bus driver waving as he pulls away from the bus stop you reached 10 seconds too late. Caring is someone glancing back after they’ve knocked you over in a crowded stairwell. These little signs, to me, reveal the true essence of Valentine’s Day. Now please pass the super-size fries.

Columns reflect the opinion of the author and not necessarily that of the Northern Star staff.