Straight No Chaser

Yes Lawd

this is exhaustion. this, not being able to keep my eyes trained on the computer, pining for my bed when it's only a few feet away, et cetera. i'm going to have fabulous dreams tonight. melony sleeps like a log. i'm going to follow her example.

tonight, a security guard saw my bare chest, and, quite possibly, certain corresponding pieces of marcus. if i weren't so tired that might be ridiculously embarrassing. i swear to god, it doesn't make sense. we are intelligent, well-behaved, talented and motivated young adults; between us we have a 7.6 grade point average and made about a 2900 on the scholastic aptitude test, all those years ago; neither of us has ever been in trouble with the law, and we intend to raise our children in functional households. also, we aren't thirteen. it's kind of stupid for us to be fogging up cars under any circumstances, much less the kind that lead to getting caught by security guards. it's been like an hour since the encounter, and i'm still mortified.

shit.

in other news, there was some slight drama with my schedule today. i have space for one, not two, creative writing electives, and i really want to capitalize on that one space, but i can't decide which direction is the right one: professor strange's intro to creative writing class, which features surface visits to each of the major genres of creative writing, or professor spencer's, which takes a more in-depth look at the craft of fiction writing? i am many things, the very least of which is a poet. i don't pretend to really care that i can't write plays. and i HATE creative nonfiction, not the reading of it but the writing, even though, sure, i can do it when it's required. fiction is my thing. it's what i do. if i'm going to be a starving author someday (i'm not, or at least that's not the plan), i'm going to starve to death in front of a computer crammed with my attempts at long and short fiction. i doubt i'll write two more decent poems over the remainder of my natural life.

still, spencer's class is two and a half hours long, on wednesdays. that's brutal.

melony and i have the exact same taste in music, the first time that's ever happened, ever. typically i meet jazz buffs who turn up their noses at classical, "the white man's sedative," or rock fans who "don't get" jazz, or people who claim to like "everything" but then express blanket disapproval of, like, pop/country fusion. or whatever. melony likes it all. the four walls of our room have yet to hear a song that wasn't okayed by us both. she keeps her ear buds nearby just in case i issue an unexpected aural attack, but it hasn't happened yet.

it's possible that this will be a good semester. although the jury's very much still out on that one. if nothing else, i get to see charlie one last time this weekend, with krystle, who is my last hope for finding someone who appreciates it the way i do.

also, oops, i squeezed too hard. sorry, baby.