Priyanshi Kharwade

“If he wanted to, he would.” A line we are all too familiar with. Some say it like a joke, some serious, it is usually seen next to screenshots of flower deliveries and surprise getaways. It’s meant to be funny but it also does a lot of ideological work. And somewhere along the line, love stops being a feeling and becomes a service tier. Valentine’s Week and the era of proof You’ll notice this prominently during Valentine’s Day (or a week now, thanks to capitalism), our entire feed is flooded with proof, not affection, not love, proof. A big bouquet of roses, dim lighting in diners especially calibrated for instagram and captions that sound almost like a product review. “Grateful.” “Spoiled.” “He understood the assignment.” So your love was an assignment? Okay. Wanting nice things, then getting judged by the invisible rubric See it’s not that people are shallow for wanting nicer things, no. I want nice things too. I like big gestures. I love effort. But I also feel my shoulders tense every February, like I’m being silently evaluated by a rubric no one admits exists but everyone seems to know by heart. “Bare minimum” as a norm pretending to be a joke You can feel the anxiety leaking through the posts. People online say it outright. “If he doesn’t post you, that’s a red flag.” “If there’s no reservation, don’t even bother.” “Bare minimum behavior.” These aren’t jokes. They’re norms pretending to be humor. Capitalism’s favorite trick: expectations as vibes, pressure as aesthetics: Capitalism loves that move. Turn expectations into vibes. Turn pressure into aesthetics. The real problem is not spending, it’s scripting What bothers me isn’t the spending. It’s the scripting. Valentine’s marketing doesn’t ask whether you love someone. It asks whether you can show that you do. There’s a right scale, a right timeline, a right visual language. Romance becomes legible only when it passes through brands, platforms, and public validation. If it can’t be seen, it starts to feel suspect. Co-conspirators in the attention economy We are all co-conspirators. We too measure movements by how shareable they’re, wondering if something “counts” if no one else knows about it. A lot of us do feel weirdly underwhelmed by perfectly good experiences if they didn’t translate aesthetically on Instagram. And that is a part no one wants to admit. It’s not just about big bad corporations manipulating us, it is also us. Participating, comparing and internalizing. Dating apps made love browsable and commitment feel like “settling” Dating apps have made love browsable. Desire is sortable. Everyone is one swipe away from someone theoretically better. When abundance is engineered, commitment starts to feel like settling, unless it’s constantly justified with upgrades and displays. So love gets louder. Bigger. More cinematic. Not because that’s what intimacy requires, but because that’s what attention rewards. Why stable love does not “do numbers” Stable, boring, unremarkable love does not do numbers. No one goes viral for mutual respect or quiet loyalty. There’s no algorithmic incentive for emotional consistency. So those forms of love slowly disappear from the cultural imagination, replaced by spectacle and urgency. “Just opt out” is a fantasy, and you know it At the same time, I don’t buy the clean critique that says “just opt out.” That’s a fantasy. We live inside this system. Symbols matter. Gifts can be sincere. Performance and feeling are not always opposites. Sometimes they overlap. Sometimes buying flowers is exactly what love looks like at that moment. That’s the tension I can’t resolve neatly. I resent how commercialized love has become. I also resent the smugness of pretending I’m immune to it. Both things are true. Love as a recurring expense and the threat of emotional overdraft What feels dangerous is not Valentine’s Day itself, but how easily love becomes a recurring expense. Something you have to keep paying into or risk emotional overdraft. Miss one moment and you’re behind. Skip one gesture and it means something about your worth. Capitalism does not mock love, it professionalizes it Capitalism doesn’t destroy love by mocking it. It destroys love by professionalizing it. By making people doubt their actions and outsource meaning to external signals. By convincing us that intimacy needs constant visible reinforcement or it starts to depreciate. What gets lost first is the quiet, unphotogenic stuff The quiet stuff gets lost first. The unphotogenic parts. Showing up when no one’s watching. Staying when it’s boring. Choosing someone again without announcing it. Those don’t sell. So they don’t circulate. And eventually they start to feel less real. A cultural failure, plus the honest admission that we are compromised If love today feels expensive, performative, and oddly exhausting, that’s not a personal failure. It’s a cultural one. But pretending we’re above it doesn’t help either. Maybe the most honest position is to admit we’re compromised. Online, influenced, aware, still wanting connection anyway. Trying to care without turning care into content. Trying to feel without constantly proving that we feel. Not rejecting the system. Just refusing to let it fully narrate our relationships. That’s not a solution. It’s a tension. But it feels closer to the truth than another heart-shaped ad telling me how love is supposed to look this year.

Halloween’s great… until it’s suddenly tonight, and you’re still in your pajamas wondering how everyone else became vampires overnight. But breathe. You don’t need a sewing machine, you don’t need Amazon Prime, and you definitely don’t need panic. You just need your closet, a little tape, and the confidence to commit to chaos. Here’s your “oh-no-it’s-Halloween” survival guide to DIY costumes you can throw together in under an hour. 1. The Cereal Killer Grab a few mini cereal boxes, some plastic spoons, and a touch of fake blood (or ketchup if that’s all you’ve got). Tape the boxes to your shirt like crime scenes, smudge on the “blood,” and walk around like breakfast gone bad. Time: 20 minutes Vibe: Chaotic morning energy, with murder. 2. Static Cling Throw on a T-shirt, tape socks and dryer sheets all over, and ruffle your hair like you just lost a fight with static. Time: 10 minutes Vibe: Low effort, high humor. 3. Error 404: Costume Not Found White T-shirt. Black marker. That’s it. Write “Error 404: Costume Not Found.” Boom. You’re a tech joke and a minimalist masterpiece. Time: 5 minutes Vibe: Peak laziness disguised as irony. 4. Tourist on Vacation Button-up shirt (the louder, the better). Sunglasses. Socks with sandals. Add a camera or water bottle, and maybe throw in some sunscreen on your nose. Time: 15 minutes Vibe: Vacationing uncle who thinks he’s blending in. 5. The Ghost Who Tried Classic sheet ghost, but make it funny. Cut the eye holes uneven, add sunglasses or a party hat, and own your “Pinterest fail” moment. Time: 10 minutes Vibe: Boo, but socially awkward. 6. Social Butterfly Print out social media logos, tape them to your outfit, and make some quick cardboard wings. You’re officially a social butterfly. Punny, cute, and everyone gets it. Time: 25 minutes Vibe: Influencer meets arts and crafts. 7. Rain Cloud Wear all gray, glue or pin cotton balls to your hoodie, and spritz people with a spray bottle every few minutes. You’re the human forecast of mild emotional damage. Time: 30 minutes Vibe: Drizzle with a chance of drama. 8. Identity Thief Write random names on sticky tags and slap them all over your shirt. Carry a pair of sunglasses or a mask if you want to commit to the bit. Time: 10 minutes Vibe: Mysterious stranger, but with office supplies. 9. Emoji Face Cut a cardboard circle, paint your favorite emoji, and tape it to a yellow shirt. Laughing, crying, or dead inside — the choice is yours. Time: 20 minutes Vibe: Internet core. 10. Ceiling Fan Write “Go Ceilings!” on a T-shirt and carry pom-poms. Cheer obnoxiously. You’re a ceiling fan. Time: 10 minutes Vibe: Dad joke gold. Quick Costume Rules of Survival If you can’t make it, fake it. Confidence sells. Tape and markers fix almost everything. The messier it looks, the more “intentional” it seems. Own the pun. Even the terrible ones. Wrap It Up (Literally, if You’re a Mummy) Halloween’s not about perfection. It’s about commitment. So grab a sheet, a Sharpie, or a cereal box and roll with it. The best costumes are the ones that make people laugh — not the ones that took all week to make. Now stop scrolling, drop the glue gun, and role-play like you’ve been planning this for months.

Halloween decorations come in two types: the ones that look like you spent hours crafting them, and the ones that actually took you ten minutes and a glue stick. We’re here for the second kind. If you’ve been waiting until the last week to turn your front yard into a horror movie, it’s not too late. Grab some old boxes, paint, and anything black or glow-in-the-dark, because we’re clocking in for the Graveyard Shift. Here’s how to make your lawn look like it’s haunted by a decorator with great taste and no time. 1) Cardboard Tombstones That Fool Everyone Cut, paint gray with black/white streaks, and stake into the ground. You don’t need granite when you’ve got cardboard and gray paint. Cut tombstone shapes out of old boxes, brush them with black and white streaks, and write names like “Barry D. Alive” or “Al B. Back.” Stick them into the ground using wooden skewers or old coat hangers. Tip: Light them from below with a flashlight or LED candle for that cemetery at midnight vibe.  Time: 25 minutes Scare Level: “Are those real?” 2) Ghosts on a Budget White bags or sheets + newspaper heads + string. Fishing line = floaty. Grab some white trash bags or old sheets, stuff the heads with newspaper, and tie them with string. Hang them from trees or your porch so they sway in the wind. Bonus points if you use fishing wire; it makes them float eerily. Time: 15 minutes Scare Level: Classic spooky without trying too hard. 3) Skeletons on Strike Pose with a mug/newspaper; pool noodles can fake limbs. Got an old mannequin, toy bones, or even pool noodles? Pose them like they’re taking a coffee break in your yard. Have one reading a newspaper, another sipping from a cup, maybe one lying flat like it’s had a long day of haunting. Time: 30 minutes Scare Level: Funny enough to make people stop, creepy enough to make them leave fast. 4) Bloody Handprints That Don’t Stain Thin red paint with water; writes “HELP ME” then washes off. Mix red paint with a little water and go to town on your windows or garage door. Add handprints, streaks, or a fake “HELP ME” for good measure. It’ll look horrifying, but washes off easily later. Time: 10 minutes Scare Level: Your mail carrier might reconsider approaching. 5) Yard Hands Rising from the Dead Old gloves + newspaper filler; paint pale/gray for undead effect. Cut holes in old gloves, fill them with newspaper, and stick them halfway out of the ground or flower pots. Paint them pale or gray for an undead finish. You’ll look like you’ve got a full zombie uprising happening in your mulch. Time: 20 minutes Scare Level: Suburban apocalypse. 6) Pumpkin Grave Watchers Angry/sleepy faces; stack minis to create “Frankie.” Carve a few pumpkins with angry or sleepy faces and place them near the tombstones. Add small candles or LED lights inside for that flickering graveyard glow. Even better; stack smaller pumpkins on top of each other and call it “Frankie.” Time: 30 minutes Scare Level: Wholesome chaos. 7) DIY Fog with a Twist Dry ice in a bowl makes movie-set mist—handle with gloves. If you’ve got a bowl and a little dry ice, you’ve got instant cemetery mist. Just handle it carefully (gloves on) and place it near your props. The smoke crawls across the ground like it’s got unfinished business. Time: 5 minutes Scare Level: Movie set worthy. 8) The Unexpected Soundtrack Hide a speaker; choose creaks, whispers, and distant laughs. Hide a Bluetooth speaker behind your decorations and play soft creaks, whispers, or distant laughs. Don’t go for jump scares; go for subtle chills that make people question if they actually heard something. Time: 5 minutes Scare Level: Goosebumps guaranteed. Final Touch: Lighting Is Everything A cheap string of orange lights or a couple of green bulbs can change your whole scene. Skip bright white light; go dim, go moody, go mysterious. When night falls, step back, admire your haunted handiwork, and enjoy that moment when someone slows down to stare at your yard. You didn’t just decorate. You started your own neighbourhood ghost story. © Valasys Media — Halloween DIY Guide