March 17th, 2010

Today was a good day. I'm on vacation, I had an entire day at home alone to do absolutely nothing. Because my stagnant mind always floats to you, I let it. I saw a funny quote you posted that showed up on my feed this morning that got you into my head in the first place. As you know by now, once you're in my head, you're rarely out of it. It's become fairly normal at this point, to the extent that I don't really notice it anymore, I just kind of accept the fact that everything I do relates to you in some way, shape, or form.

I designed a fitness routine for myself, since I am a failure at spring sports (especially lacrosse, which everyone says I like hockey. It's not. It's really not). I may have said this several times to you, somewhat annoyingly whiny-like, but you should realize that I am, by nature, a complete and total fat-ass. I would rather not do five laps of lunges in the hallway, or sixty sit-ups. I'd rather not go bike six miles only to come home and do sixty pushups. It's tiring, I hate that I can't always complete my goals, and I hate that I still don't have a six pack (not that I've been doing this for very long, or that I ever expect to have a legitimate six pack. I have what urban dictionary would call "stealth abs," ones hidden under a promiscuous layer of fat). I'm not overweight, "big-boned," "hefty," or even particularly muscular. I'm just self-deprecating occasionally. I try not to let myself believe that I'm attractive, even though occasionally I can be extremely vain. My fitness regiment is designed to keep my muscles in shape for upcoming hockey tryouts and perhaps continue into the summer so I can keep up with Lauren. Would you notice if I had nicely defined muscle in my legs and arms? A sweet set of abs (maybe a four-pack…) to go with my new bikini? While my goal short-term is to stay in shape for tryouts, my motivation is you. How could you resist a curvy, muscles girl? I wouldn't have to be the one always two steps behind because I'm running out of breath. This morning, I woke up and did my workout routine for you.

I had a $25 iTunes card and used it to buy more "Andrew music" (I love your name. It's so… perfect? It's a good name of someone to have a crush on. Much more loveable than, say, a Mark or an Edward. And not too cutesy, like a Joey). But it's music that I like and probably would have downloaded anyways.

I practiced my guitar, really drilling that B minor chord that's screwing me over. I kind of like the song because it's my most impressive to play (not that I could impress you on guitar, you guitar genius), but also so I can stay comfortably near the top in my class. I excel in the class because I really enjoy it and I hope you realize that even though I always obsessively talk about to you. I'm not forcing myself to play because I want to be like you and I want to slap you in the face to show you how similar we could be. Not at all. Even if you loved to sing, and singing was your favoritist thing ever ever ever, I don't believe I would join Chorale so I could sing and be just like you. I have limits.

I wrote in my story book, a fictional romance (my favorite genre of literature. What kinds of books do you read?) involving a boy and a girl who've known each other all their lives, experimenting with relationships. It's not about us. I've made that mistake before, basing a story off my own crush… even though this soap-opera story/diary about you is worthy of a trashy romance novel. Is there such a thing as a nonfiction trashy romance, or would I have to call it an autobiography? Either way, I doubt many people would read it. Just another one of those stories, you know. It's always the same, isn't it?

I'm actually bored enough that I'm reading the dictionary. Yep. Do you like me a little bit nerdy? I'm a pretty big nerd, believe it or not. You kind of have to be to go to my school. I like it, though. I want to be an engineer and get a master's degree like my dad. I don't think he'd be very supportive of me if he know I was also aspiring to be the girlfriend of a musician studying law. Professional musicians and lawyers are pretty high up on his list of things he doesn't like. My dad's quite a character. He'll never come out west with me over the summer, though.

I remember last year you asked if any of my family would be coming to Orcas eventually. Do you want to meet them? Are you curious about my sister? Am I more mysterious this way? I liked how you remembered the name of my sister's hobby… LARPing (live action role playing, for those of you who don't know) and you asked about that as we were headed around the lake to go jump off the bridge.

I'm too excited to see you again, which must mean something's going to happen. I'll break a bone or twist my ankle and have to sit out from all the fun stuff (would you sit with me?). You'll hurt yourself and just not come. Plans will change. Something's going to get screwed up, like it always does when I get really really excited about something, and then it doesn't happen. I'm hoping I still see you, since I'm not sure if I could handle another 365 days without your face right in front of me and your witty voice. Don't do anything that might result in you getting hurt, okay?