it is my opinion that no outdoor inanimate object in houston should be black. this includes parking lots, vehicles, buildings, t-shirts, and especially tennis shoes. walking to class from my illegal yet distant parking space this morning, i felt like i was gonna melt into an orangey grey puddle on the pavement. it was so hot i couldn’t even think about anything other than how hot it was, and how if everything outdoors in houston was a shiny reflective white, we’d all be blind and you could see us from space, but dammit, we wouldn’t be so hot. damn.

tony, shaun, rob, and erin were all in this morning’s contemporary american fiction class with me. dr. westervelt had everyone in the class write down the usual introductory information on pieces of paper, which she collected individually. as she went around the room and took up the papers, she wrote each person’s hair color on theirs so she could remember their names, and said, “nobody change their hair color in the next few days.” four people turned around and pointed at me, and with good reason. after class, i walked up to rob and tony and shaun, and tony said, “i like your skirt! i’ve never seen you in a skirt before. that’s wonderful!” rob said, “whoa, you are wearing a skirt!” shaun smirked, and said, “you’re a real girl now.” arseholes.

school’s all right so far, i guess. my senior-level fiction forms class is huge, and most people in it don’t have the prerequisites for it, which makes me mad. because of unqualified non-majors, i’m going to have to sit in a crowded classroom and listen as the basics of fiction are reviewed for the benifit of the cheap seats. bastards.

of late i’ve had plenty to talk about, but not much to say. it’s all pretty standard, really. so, i’m going to go swimming. fuck yeah.