I like this girl a lot, did I screw up?

Had the following gmail chat conversation with this girl I like a lot. Wondering if I screwed things up with her or not...

Her:
Hey there, do you know what pages to do for Mr. Fedlman?
Me:
Hey! Hold on lemme check.
172-175
Her:
Sweet thanks <3
Me:
No problem, shit sucks though I still haven't done it
Her:
Hahah, yeah. Hey I think this is the most you've ever talked to me. lol
Me:
hehe yeah
Her:
Why you always so quiet at school?
Me:
heh, guess i'm just asleep in that class most of the time
Her:
hahahah year
you should sit at me and doms table with us next tomorrow! you can sleeep with us, lol
Me:
!!!!
you jus tinvite me to sleep with you?
Her:
lol in class you perv!
....your cute though :D
Me:
heh well ok
glad i could help you
Her:
:(
so thats how it is?
Me:
what? what u mean, whats wrong?
Her:
i just said your cute and your all like, "oh ok, bye!"
Me:
shit sorry!
i mean, thanks for saying it
:) thanks
Her:
...that's it? lol, nm, it's cool
:D
Me:
omg sorry. i mean i like you too, your cute
Her:
yay! thats what i like to hear.
i always thought you seem cool your just so quiet, we should do something sometime
Me:
woah seriously? you mean like fool around or what are you talking about? i want to, seriously though!
Her:
lol, wow are you serious?
Me:
shit, sorry, what do you mean?
like having sex? i have condoms
Her:
wtf lol why are you talking about condoms.
i said we should do something like hang out
holy shit your a perv
Me:
omg im so sorry
YES, i do want to hang out seriously
Her:
yeah i'll be you do.
with condoms "just in case", right?
Me:
no sorry, we don't have to fuck or anything.
we can just hang out, i won't bring them.
we just start like friends or w/e
Her:
we don't have to fuck?
seriously, we don't have to?
Me:
no, sorry. i mean no, if you don't want
unless you want to.
or i can eat you out or w/e you want, it's cool
Her:
omg dude, are you just joking?
like laughing your ass off over there at me?
this is a joke right?
Me:
no, i'm not i swear, just whatever you want to do is cool
i mean yea i was jokin about the sex stuff
Her:
allright bye.

My Imaginary Friend.

At age five I had an imaginary friend. Looking back now it had a lot to do with our neighborhood having no kids my age to relate to and me just feeling generally peer-lonely. He took the shape of a cat humanoid, weird thing and I called him Charta. We did a lot together. One time in particular he crawled along the walls around the house while I chased him with one of those spider web remover poles.

My parents knew something was up. From their perspective I spent a lot of time talking to myself. At first it wasn't a big deal, but as I grew comfortable with them knowing about Charta I began to bring him into their lives as well. Sitting at the dinner table with him, going to the grocery store and asking him what kind of cereal to buy (he loved Fruity Pebbles), sleeping at night and scaring me with ghost stories. Things like that.

I heard my parents fighting one night. Charta worried and spent the night scared. In the morning my mom took me to see a therapist, though she called it a "feelings doctor".

The feelings doctor's name was Cogrip. My mom stayed in the waiting room while he took me into a backroom where there were lots of toys and I played for hours. Cogrip watched me from the corner of the room during our session and kept asking me if I was hot and wanted to take my shirt off.

On the way home my mom asked what day I wanted to go back. I liked the toys a lot, but Cogrip gave me the creeps. I couldn't directly process this at the time, but instinctively I knew it. The toys weren't so important to me because I had Charta. I told my mom never. She said I had to go back sometime this week. I told her Charta's name was actually Jesus.

I never saw Cogrip or Charta again.

Bootstraps.

One day at age six or seven I sat in the backseat of my Dad's car while we drove somewhere. I don't remember where, but we didn't drive to the movies, for ice cream, or to go shopping. We were poor, and our car symbolized that with its balding tires, chipped paint, and colors of the interior dull and faded.

I do remember coming up to a red light and a young business man stopped next to us in his nice car all silver, sleek, fast. My Dad pointed at him while saying, "You see that man right there? That's what happens if you work hard, start your own business. You get nice things, nice cars, a nice house. That can be you if you do that too." Using the kind of intuition and creative thinking that I still had because years and years of television hadn't sucked it out of me yet I responded, "Well then what happened to you Dad? If it's that easy and simple... why are you not him?"

Plans Made To Smash Window

Yesterday, a group of black clad anarchists gathered together under the cover of night to make plans of breaking a window, or a whole bunch of them. The targets planned to be hit included Chase Bank, Wells Fargo, every police station, the IMF, Noam Chomsky's house, and a Pizza Hut. The projected damages would have ranged anywhere between $20 to $50,000,000,000 if the attacks had actually occurred. Several cigarettes (valued at a cost of approximately 3 dollars) were also torched in the discussions, against their collective house's “no smoking inside, unless it's weed” rule. The attack was nearly identical to hundreds of others imagined, proposed, bottomlined and forgotten in the same vicinity over the last few years. This was also the same gang of insurgents whose fierce passionate discussions had forced Merrill Lynch into bankruptcy and scared President George W. Bush into fleeing the capitol in early However this discussion escalated the recent string of imaginary retributions, because Blockbuster Video was added to the drawing board of potential spots to make social war on and because the cell was able to use nonverbal signals to indicate that they should take the batteries out of their cell phone, giving the pigs no chance to see this incendiary conversation coming. [OMG I was at that meeting!!!]

The plans fell through when the affinity group ran out of coffee and someone saw a police car on the bike ride to the store to get more coffee. Though the full force of their blow was restrained by this brutal state repression, this imaginary action was a lot more rad than every action that has actually occurred (outside of Greece) in years. The cadre celebrated how awesome they are at making up badass ideas over a Doctor Who marathon on SyFy over 40s and fell asleep to a CD playing NWA's “Fuck Tha Police” on repeat, letting the whole night echo with raw anti-state rage.

A pair of glasses were actually broken a few hours later when one of our comrades rolled over in their sleep, crushing them and making a tangible blow against one of the most alienating manifestations of the totality. We all made it away from the discussion safe and uncaptured, free to talk about fighting another day. The state whimpered away to nurse its wounds, we talked about maybe dumpster diving upon waking up at 2 PM, and in our imaginations we will smash even more windows tonight... or maybe even draw some circle A's in sidewalk chalk, in the real world. To the pacifists, snitches, cops, boring leftists and other collective houses that have been reading our minds: GTFO, cause we're down as fuck around here and we're planning to burn it all down. Till all pictures of prisons have flames drawn on them, we'll only rest eight hours a day. And then we'll dream of burning more shit down. We are the birds of the coming storm, and we promise it's coming sometime in the next few decades

Solidarity with the Asheville 11, Conspiracy Cells of Fire, Oscar Grant, Tortuga, Eric McDavid, all the normal people that go to jail for badass shit like robbing banks and counterfitting money and everyone that drank themselves to sleep tonight.

-some imaginary insurgents

Five Parts to a Quest.

A quest has five parts to it: the questor, the stated reason for going on the quest, the holy grail, trials and challenges to face, and the real reason for going on the quest.

The questor is usually young, inexperienced, and has a lot to learn. The stated reason for going on the quest is usually tied into the Holy Grail. The trials and challenges are typically dragons, evil knights, and/or wonderful princesses. The real reason for going on the quest is almost always for self-improvement and self-knowledge.

---

I'm seventeen years old and I'm living in a small town just outside of Memphis. My mom is yelling at me that I need to go to the store and buy some bread. I don't even have a car, I have to ride my bike.

On my way to the store there is a German Shepard running wild in the street, foaming at his mouth. I stop and stare at him, watching as he runs back and fourth through peoples lawns, chewing on plants, and digging in lawns. He jerks his head towards me and growls softly. Suddenly he's sprinting full on at me. Instincts take over and I'm riding as fast as I can in the opposite direction without even thinking about it. His feet are scampering just yards behind me. I'm gaining speed and the sounds of his barking and growling grow distant, but my heart beats just as loud.

Mel is in the market parking lot with James, sitting in his new car. The new car is unknown to me, but it looks fast... and expensive. Mel is the girl of my dreams, what is she doing with him? James is from a rich family and has never had to work for anything. I hate James for it. I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing and a speed bump takes advantage of that as I fall to the ground. Mel and James saw the whole thing and are laughing at me. My wrist hurts, but I ignore it. I get up, walk over to the entrance, lean my bike against the wall, and go inside. They're still laughing at me.

Even though this market is small, it seems like there's endless aisles in it. Aisle eleven is where I need to go down to buy some bread, but I'm too busy realizing that there's nothing left for me in this small town. I'm getting out and leaving. Tomorrow.