One Hundred Thirty-Second Entry

This, ladies and gentlemen, will be my last blog for a long while. I have grown tired of having to journal in at least once or twice a week. The enjoyment and therapy that blogging offers has worn off, and I think I am doing it more for you guys. It became a question of "How can I entertain my readers for the five minutes I have their attention?" And that's not why I started blogging in the first place.

I wanted it to be a way for me to vent. I wanted to be able to say what I felt about anything and everything. I can't do that. I can't be as open as I want to be on my blog. I find myself pulling semi-Lisa's left and right by overusing pronouns instead of a name, in the way she uses initials. I have become overcautious in what I write because a lot of the thoughts I have could hurt quite a few people. But how am I supposed to vent if I can't write about my thoughts?

My co-worker Jane today made the comment that our generation is much more open than hers. She refers to my blog and our bosses daughters' blog saying that she and anyone in her generation would never have done that. I think that is a very interesting point. Our generation tends to wear our hearts on our sleeves. We are more touchy-feely than previous generations. Jane's generation tends to be a lot more wary of telling people anything and everything for fear of becoming vulnerable or hurting someone. I must say that I feel the same. I know I would get a severe adverse reaction if I made a negative comment about a friend.

So, in short, I don't want to blog for a while. I can't write what I really feel, so there is no purpose. I suppose I could start a secret blog that noone would know about, but the reason you blog is so others can read it, so that wouldn't work. I could just start a journal in a notepad and keep it under my pillow, but that would last all of three days.

Goodbye nice, kind world. I'll bitch at you another day.