I decided to update. Tonight is one of those nights that, if I wasn't who I am, you would find me at some bar downtown, sitting alone in the dim, flickering lights and drinking something heavy. This is probably a dramatized view of the melancholy drunk; nevertheless, it is appealing to my vexed and tormented mind at the moment.

Instead, because I am underage and promised to a life of health and self control in regard to mind altering substances, I threw myself into some mindless tasks like doing laundry (so that I can go to work tomorrow not looking like a bum) and sewing (because the 31st is fast approaching). There's something freeing about forcing non compliant fabric to fold and remain that way because a steel needle has been driven through it. There's something satisfying about the heavy chink of the internal gears and cogs of the machine I sat at. There's power in the ability to press the peddle down and hear whir of a motor and feel the fabric pull faster out of my fingers towards the piercing sliver of metal.

After that, I laid on the couch and opened Slaughter House Five with the determined intention of a making a serious dent in the book, which was probably a mistake, as I can't seem to keep my thoughts in one place for the small amount of time it takes me to skim over a paragraph. Frustratingly, I find myself 45 pages further into the book and unable to remember anything from the last 5.

As a result, today feels largely wasted; a jewel down the drain of lethargy, procrastination, selfishness, and the inability of modern forms of communication to relay the important and necessary parts of a message while fluidly delivering the more menial and bitter.