pouring alcohol on blisters

It is scorching out. This is weather that will make even the most skeptical believe in global warming. It's the kind of hot that feels like you're trapped in a box with no holes for air. Not quite humid, thank god, but stifling. It is SO hot, that I don't even feel like eating. My hair, my hair, is even feeling the effects. Usually, it's immune to the sun's displays of overly enthusiastic display of affection towards the upper East coast.
But today?

Yeah.

On the other hand, we are currently in the first of three days of the last three days of classes. This is a time that I thought, back in September, would never arrive. Just as I thought the track season would never end, or that cross country way back in fall, or the AP exams, or the SAT IIs, well, it's all come and gone, and another year has almost run its course. But not quite. There are still finals to take, all of which I have no intention of studying for, if only for the sole reason that I am so goddamn bored with school.

I met with my SAT tutor yesterday, after deciding that the last one was decidedly too patronizing, and thus, ineffective. The one yesterday, however, proved to be quite promising. As a tutor myself, I long ago realized that the way to get through to a child is praise. You do not, should not, can not, start off the session reprimanding their idiocy. Rather, you compliment their strengths, putting them on a pedestal. Then, you swiftly, carefully chip away at said pedestal until they are level with you. To them, however, they have already been lifted above mere mortals, and thus have such an idea stuck with them forever.

My love life is as dry as dirt in today's weather. It is insatiable, and ravenous. It is not being fed by anything more than a dim hope. I hope it rains soon.