Reporting Your Weather Since 2007.

I had been thinking about this for awhile. Thinking it's time to do it. To end it. Something always holds me back- maybe it's the fact that I'm starved for attention and I love talking about myself. Isn't that so about us all? There is a lot of life here, there is a lot of death. When I read Mayim's blog yesterday, she posted something along the lines of what I'm going to say. I knew exactly what she meant.

I've had the Weather Reports since 2007; a few band members and relationships and bad mistakes later, here I am. Five years of a blog. Pack of Cloves and packs of Camel Lights or Turkish Silvers. Empty bottles. Empty feelings. Lost friends. Five years of junk to some, nothing to others, and something to me. On my drive back to my empty apartment, I thought about a lot as the dense fog hovered over the highway. I cannot delete my blog, I could say I would but I wouldn't. I could hide it, but where would I post pictures? Although, if you (one of the few readers) realize some day that you can no longer see the blog, don't worry, that means no one can. No one will be an invited reader, except myself. I've considered starting a new one- highly considered. I just would feel heartbroken. This is, in fact, the longest relationship I have ever had; me and my blog. And what would I name it? I love this name. I love this song.

See, I'm just sick of social networking. I want to delete Facebook- I know I can't or won't. I want to be more private. I used to spill my heart out on here as if no one were watching. I still don't bite my tongue often, but intimate details are something I'd just rather keep to myself lately. I have a journal, I write in it almost every day. There is a lot going on that the Weather Reports knows nothing about. That makes me sad. It's almost as if I have created this whole other person, one just specifically for listening to me complain, impress, vent. But these things, I don't want anyone to know about them either.

I'm tired of blog worlds. I'm tired of media. I'm sick of seeing weight loss advertisements, weight loss blogs, weight loss commercials, weight loss articles. I just want to take a hiatus. But I know I won't. I'm just sick of the shit being shoved in my face. Posting blogs, and reading blogs isn't really doing much for me. I'm tired of feeling inferior, and maybe I feel like I need to boost myself up with little notes to the world about how well I'm doing. Maybe I should stop. I probably won't. Sometimes I'm not honest on here at all, and people get all offended and think I'm talking about them. My irony is mistaken for honesty. My honesty for irony. My words have gotten me in trouble so many times.

There are only a few people I feel as though I can be honest with anymore. Sometimes, I feel like I'm not even honest with myself. Well, for certain I know I am not. I feel like if my feelings are written and posted there is just someone waiting to judge me, criticize, pick me apart. Why give people a reason to do that? Sure, sometimes I want the world to see my pictures or listen to good music- but I don't really want the Weather Reports to be a journal anymore.

I have feelings, frustrations, difficulties, sorrows, joys, reliefs, rebellions- that I just don't want the entire world capable of knowing.

I'm frustrated, and angry- I guess, that this isn't the outlet it used to be. At the same time I need to remember I'm not a seventeen year old girl anymore- falling in love with every musician who looks my way or gives me a second of his attention. I'm not a seventeen year old girl who gets teary eyed when my boyfriend doesn't text me back after five minutes. I'm not a seventeen year girl who's priorities are boys, musicians, beer, and marijuana use. I'm not the happy seventeen year old girl who used to play outside in the leaves with her brother, and come inside and blog about it.

We're all growing up, I guess I just don't want to face it somedays. Somedays, this place is my temporary (even if for five minutes) escape. It'd be so hard to say goodbye, or even hide.

I just know that it won't ever be like it used to be; which is why sometimes I just want to start all over again.

Oh well, I have a salad waiting to be eaten before I head to work. A paper to be typed, as well.

xoxo