Refer to Day 1

Remember when I said that this blog was "more for my benefit than yours"? I'd just like to remind you of that as you go into reading this completely nonsensical, idiotic post.

Now you can't hate me. Er, well I guess you can...by all means, you can. But you have no excuse to blame me for it. Go on hatin', haters.

You know what I like? I like mail. Not the silly 'E' kind, though that's nice and all. I mean the hard copy, hold-it-in-your-hands, smell the stamp kind. No, I don't smell stamps when I get mail but I suppose they smell nice. They taste nice now...most of the time. Mail is the perfect example of feeling worth something. Somebody took time out of their day, their lives (takes more than a day of effort to send a letter -- I would know) to write down a bunch of words ON PAPER, all old school-like, brave the gaggy taste of licking an envelope and stuffing it in the mailbox with the rest of their bills and such. Finding that envelope with your name printed on the front and an actual return address is like finding a signed note from God "You are loved".

That may or may not be a tad of an exaggeration...depending on how pathetic and desperate you are.

I also like productivity. Even the smallest of achievements gives me a smile-boost for at least a day or two.

And dirt! Dirt is nice. Specially if it got a bit wet and now sticks to your toes in brown goopy glops. I like knowing the earth is there and still kickin'.

I love water. The sound, the feel, the look, it's all beautiful. I love floating halfway down in the deep end of a pool, like I'm a hummingbird hovering in air. To fly would be the best realization of any dream. Water's about as close to that as I'll ever come.

I love food. Too much. End of story.

Sometimes I forget about the things I love in the face of the things I love not-so-much.

Like tests. And sick. And unemployment. And being left alone. And filling up my car at the gas station but turns out they stop you at $50...I don't like getting to $50 for my cute little car.

But I love people. Many, many people. I love the sun, and light. I love night and the moon. I love breezes, and treezes (the pretty green ones for climbing) and clouds that look like Nemo. I love movies, I love pillows, I love puppies, kittens, otters and platypus' (...platypi?). I love laughing, I love eyes, I love listening.

There's so much to love! Why would I waste time fretting over the lesser-liking stuff? It is good to dislike now and again, because then loving feels so much better after that. Woot juxtaposition.

Today I proved myself to be a real girl. I mean that in a not-so-great way.

Confession: I empathize with the male population. Girls are way too complicated, obnoxious and confusing for the human brain to handle and unfortunately, mine tends to function more like a guys' than not so I probably understand myself much less than anyone else....though I have a slight suspicion that's how the entire world is. Funny how the people you spend the most time with have the greatest potential to surprise you.

And so, today, when I was expecting to have boyfriend all to myself before I wouldn't see him the rest of the weekend and then he drops this bomb on me, "Oh. I think I might just go hang out with _______, since we don't have any plans...if that's okay with you."

I turned into those girls I hate.

The possessive, bossy, monopolizing girls who crush their boyfriends spirit and manhood with their pinky. Their pinky of selfishness.

It was ridiculous and stupid and I knew it, but that just made me all the more frustrated and of course, I took it out on him.

Stress + hormones + a-ridiculous-amount-of-estrogen = crazy girlfriend Hope. I am proud to say however, I did not cry. If it had been that week, however, that would be a completely different story.

No, this story is just pathetic, dumb and embarrassing. I pouted. I whined. I made myself into a real fool. Though I did have a good point at the time. It's completely unfair for him to say "if that's okay with you" because then I really only have 2 choices:

• Let him do whatever he wants and be a miserable closet loner
• Be the bad guy and endure self-generated visions of bad mouthing by boyfriend's peeved buddies

Neither of which sound particularly enjoyable. I ended up picking a terrible combination of the 2, by beginning to be the bad guy but not having the guts to stick to my guns, ending up making a horrid mess of confusion and ill-will but having the best intentions at heart, trying to see what would make him happy, understand it and go with it.

If I can't sacrifice for him, how can I expect it from him and what kind of relationship would that be? Awful! That's what!

Turned out ________ was busy and we spent the rest of the day together anyway and it was lovely. Minus the awkward, "Oh-no. Hope's mad at me. Better shutup." phase from boyfriend in which I was convinced he was annoyed with me and I shutup as well which only furthered his belief that I was angry. This continued until we were perusing the Fry's for some pork and beef in stony silence, when he mentioned that his face was tired from swimming (whatever the heck that means) and I sighed in relief, "Oh so then you aren't mad at me?" and he stops dead by the cheese aisle and cries, "I thought you were mad at me!" and we proceeded to revert back to holding hands, laughing and going about life as normal.

Communication. LOVE IT.