Heyo, this is a writing sample for something I have been thinking about doing.  Please ream it... from grammar, to content, to style (not in that order), and share general thoughts, curiosities, questions et al.

"So, you wanna go to prom with me?"
"uh..."

I think it was Ryan Fox who either chose to go up, or was the puller of the short straw among the group of his cohorts who stood 8 feet away. It was definitely him, that is the only name that comes to mind.  Perhaps Zack W(hatever) was standing a couple feet, or Ryan H(who?), or both.  The mormon men at my school were handsome pricks.  I wonder if they were as asexual as I was at that age, at least in practice.

I am confused. Distrusting of things that break pattern.  I take everything as truth, yet people don't talk to me at school.  I do not detect sincerity (as if I could detect any non-verbal gesture at that age).  I challenge everything.  Anyone talking to me is a deviation.  I am called things.  I forget what, besides ogre.  But even then I understood being talked at vs. being talked to... sometimes.  So, why is this person talking to me? What are their motivations?  I want to understand this deviation from the norm.

"why do you ask?" I slowly say...
"Well... I like you."

I wont pretend to remember if the friends kept straight faces or not, or if Ryan did.  I don't look at people when I talk to them now. Back then I used to look out a window at birds, rain sliding down the glass, construction workers... or just anything beside the person I was interacting with.  At least now I am pretty good at keeping my face less than 180 degrees away-face from the conversation partner.

"Uh... huh."

Chortling wafts out of my long-unused mental storage unit, hyperbole-moths indicate just how long a drawer has been empty for.  I didn't trust this deviation. It was not intuition, it never is. It is just cognition.  Eventually Fox tired of my guarded questioning, answering my want for things to make sense was probably too much effort.  He said he had to go, and that he -really- wanted to go with me.  The sad part is I did not actively disbelieve him at that time.


I read over my old internet blogs, from when I was what some call a "camwhore."  I see now how crudely I imitated what I thought it was to be human, to maybe be attractive.  Really I just wanted a response.  I attempted to be provocative in a tragically ham-fisted manner.  Once I wrote "These pictures display me being an exhibitionist more than any shot of me in vinyl pants with my bottom pushed up, as I look slyly over my shoulder just asking for you to stick it anywhere."  It is undated, but archive.org and some detective work told me that I wrote that before I was twenty-one, and after I was nineteen.

My picture is bait I chose, to get anyone to interact with me virtually.  I am young, attractive, skinnier than I thought I was at the time.  I had no real reinforcement to make me think my self attractive in my "real life," and a lot of enforcement to let me know that my lack of attractiveness was the least of my problems.