It’s cold here.

It’s cold here.
witch's tit
I know that sounds ridiculous, to complain about the weather in Dallas, but it was just in the eighties, which felt comfortable, because that’s what we had been experiencing.

That’s when the fall begins, when I can’t wear my shorts and I can’t sleep without the heat. I try to stretch it as long as possible, you’ll catch me in my short pants in November, but usually I’ve got to crank the thermostat by the third week of October, but not this unseasonably warm year.

And then it started getting dark an hour early.

I thought I loved winter, now I can’t wait for summer to return.

How depressing. That’s what I like about getting older, the lack of depression. Being young sucks. Your body works, but you’re confronted with so many questions, life is a blank slate, for all the winners we read about in the press there’s a plethora of losers, or lost.

And there’s nothing worse than graduating from college. Everybody’s in your business and then suddenly they’re not. That’s when you become an adult, when you no longer go to school, when you no longer are beholden to the administration, never mind your parents.

But before that…

College is weird. There are infrequent tests. Very little classroom time. Your schedule is your own. You’re champing at the bit to get out and start your life, but you’re revving in neutral, it’s so depressing.

Then again, I went to college in the dark ages. Literally, with no TV, never mind internet or Netflix. Campuses did not compete on facilities, there was no exotic food, never mind StairMasters. Hell, we didn’t even have telephones in our rooms!

All we had was each other. If you weren’t a conversationalist you’d have to drop out, there were no diversions, just the four walls. You had to come out of your shell.


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