I am superman. I feel like superman. Only not nearly as strong or cool or manly. And I don’t use a phonebooth but instead a bathroom housing a ferocious black toilet built by evil himself. But I am blue. And there’s more red at home. Given the new rules regarding dress code, I pay more attention to the threads. We rode in today. I wore cutoff shorts, a tank and some Converse All Star sneaks. In my bag I packed a skirt Toby once said reminded him of a Jon Waters’ film, and a the new shoes some folks despise. It’s a predominantly blue outfit. I am predominantly girl-like, it’s predominantly believable that I do indeed know what I’m doing. Faster than a bolt of lightening I am changed to fit code, ready to fight this losing battle called work. I am superman and I can’t do anything.