Ok- my blog is being a little slut. My life in general is being a little slut. My day sucked. It wasn't mediocre, it wasn't horrendously tragic, it just sucked. And to me, that is the worst type of day. Other than the fact that I had to close tonight and I sat my servers terribly, nothing happened. Elisse and her absolutely adorable grandpa came to dine at OSF, so I chatted with them for a couple of minutes. She really cheered me up, even though the fact that she knew more people in the OSF establishment than I did was slightly depressing. Tomorrow I'm going to go meet her at the main library to set off and see her apartment. It's probably amazingly adorable, and I'll probably be sick with envy. At least I know what to expect from myself.

My life is such a little slut right now. It's not even on one side of the spectrum like my experiences usually are, due to the fact that I'm somewhat manic depressive. There isn't an extreme to feed off of; there is no emotion to sustain me. I can't delight in the purity of the black or white before me because the walls rising above my vision are gray. The dullest, thoughtless gray. This feeling swirls about me, enrapturing me, neither smooth like marble nor coarse like rough-cut granite. There's no word to define this, there aren't any distinctive characteristics or connotations to explain this, it's just present.

Such a little slut. Right now I just can't be happy with anything. After raising my pay, my manager sees that I don't care. What am I going to do with more money? It will all go towards college in the end. While trying to hit on me at work, two guys see that my apathy is not to be trifled with. I remain un-flattered, yet not disgusted. Do what you want. I'm going to bed in half an hour, and that's pretty much all I care about, because this world is a whore; A bleach-blonde tease, with a heaving inflated chest, so despicable and openly undesirable, yet craved by anyone belonging to this society.

And then I get home to see that, after spending all that freaking time on this stupid blog, it is being a little slut. If I have nothing, however, at least I have consistency.

Oh well. I comforted by that fact that I don't have to stop complaining. I don't have to cease my pathetic whining, because this is my blog and my thoughts are my thoughts. I plan to utilize this is every way possible.

I really think I need a shrink; not because I'm worried that I might just be seriously messed, although this might very well be the case, but because I think everybody needs professional help. A therapist is not for the insane alone, but for those refusing to settle with mental mediocrity.

Wow. I'm listening to a song by Sneaker Pimps, and it's pretty twisted. "spin spin sugar", said in a very odd tone, is repeated again and again to a retro beat. Why not? I finally got the song I wanted- sneaker pimps, 6 underground. This made me happy, considering how long I've tried to get a hold of that song. Now all I have to do is find out what was playing at Dior's spring/summer 2004 RTW and I'll be set. The last song of the show was totally post, I have to get a hold of it. I've researched this, but I can't seem to find it. Frustrating, to say the least.

I'm kind of worried. My little brother, Ricky, is turning into a punk. He's hanging out with these idiots that I don't trust. They stole some kid's scooter at school on Wed, and I'm getting pissed off. He's not going to turn into some mindless, impudent, scooter-stealing delinquent. He's too much of a sweetheart. He's having a big slumber party right now and him and his band of miscreants just snuck out to go toilet-papering. As if I don't know. Grow up Ricky, just grow up. The process of maturing is over rated, just get it over with.

I'm in a repulsive mood. I'm going to go eat toast.