Well I applied for another job, we'll see.

Most of my day was taken up reading Colors Insulting to Nature. It pretty much sucks. The narrator breaks the fourth wall all the time to go, "Culture is crappy, we all want to live our life like the formula of some happy movie where everything turns out right yada yada yada) and takes thrills in pointing out in asides each time when the formula's "breached" in the story. But... *spoiler*

everything DOES end up all happy and she DOES in a roundabout way get the two things she's wanted all her life. But just so it doesn't "adhere" to the formula, the author makes everything until the end a ginormous depressing pain. You kind of sympathize with the main character while she's a teenager still being screwed over by her mom and all, but after awhile you're like, "she's STILL that selfish and stupid?" And you're dragged into her downward spiral and the drug use, etc.

Drug use is the most boring subject, honestly. Because the author's like, "And so and so started to use drugs..." and you don't even have to read the next 10 chapters of the book because you know that basically the drugs are going to reduce them to rock bottom, and there's no suspense to it, because you basically KNOW it's going to happen.

The only character I found very interesting was the main character's brother, he *spoiler* ends up this tortured gay agoraphobic artist, but everything involving him is just spit out in these abrupt little bits that aren't elaborated on too much because the author is in a hurry to get back to the main narrative of the annoying, drugged-up sister.