Yet another day my life did not change.

I KNOW. Lazy blogger, thy name is Clover.

"Where have you been all summer?" you ask. "Isn't it true that you are a generally self-absorbed person who derives great satisfaction in receiving attention from complete strangers?"

Yes yes, fine interfriends. As a matter of fact, I do. I enjoy this even more than watching Megan wants a Millionaire. Kidding. I don't enjoy anything more than watching Megan wants a Millionaire.

I just kept hoping for something really exciting to talk about. You know like almost getting arrested. Oh wait. That did happen.

But see? Things are just as they've always been:

Doling out quiet judgment.

Boozy singing.

Boozing with coworkers.

I don't know how to describe this, but it's VERY typical.

Also very typical Friday night.

So that about covers it. Now that you're all up to speed, regular posting will resume immediately.

Well, then.

After the last post, I was surprised to receive the bevy of emails and texts that confused Blog Malaise with forays into self-cutting, existential despair and/or maturity. Slow your roll, friends. No need to have this overwhelming pressure to become a better person. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Really, my most accurate metaphor was that it's been like a friendship that's no longer relevant and in those situations that person gets cut, not me. (FROM MY LIFE, people. Jeez.) I just wanted to point out that sometimes you don't want to muck around in all your old bullshit from the past couple years on virtual space. And this blog feels like Clover's primo bullshit garden, you know? Can't blame a gal for wanting to throw some weed killer on it every now and again.

But clearly me feeling feelings is an awkward moment for everyone, so let's snap that blog persona back firmly in place and carry on, shall we?

Melissa Lion, famous writer, astutely observed in the comments section of that post that whenever someone says they want to burn their blog in a giant online bonfire (I paraphrase), the next week they start posting twice a day. When I first read it I thought she wrote twice a week and I was nodding my head going "Yes, twice a week. That is probably what I am going to start doing again." Then I reread it. I get her metaphor, but bitch. Don't get crazy on me.

So I'm still here. That is until I decide that what I truly want is to write without people calling or emailing me ten minutes after every post, and then I will move some to some new URL and BE ANONYMOUS. I will be the Thomas Pynchon of bloggering. It will be hard because then I can't post gratuitous pictures of myself, but I will do it for The Craft. ::cough::

So while I'm still here talking about me and my stuff and my things, I'm going to attempt to post everyday this week about the some New Changes that are going on in an attempt to 2009-ify this shizz. I give me Monday and maybe Tuesday.

But the Fun New Thing that has NOT happened is my New Look. Fraken frak. Unfortunately yesterday's reality show makeover was part of a High Concept Styling Challenge. Soooo I looked ka-razy yesterday but this morning I look like, you know, myself again. Le sigh. (I don't think the show airs still August or September, but I will let you all know when it does.)

Can someone make my hair look like this? I WANT THIS HAIR LIKE A FAT KID WANTS BACON.

It's just a mission statement.

When I started blogging I didn't know what I was getting into.

My friend Bethany told me that I should start a blog because it would force me to write consistently and publish immediately. (As opposed to the elusive longer, larger project where imaginary deadlines are never met and the final product is only in your head. What's up, everything I've ever done but this blog.)

And it did. I loved having a blog. Then, as any blogger can testify, the blog takes over your life. You become compelled to post, comment on fifty other blogs everyday, make blog friends and talk about your blog in your real life so you can annoy and alienate all your non-blogger friends. It feels important and special.

And then the malaise sets in.

I've blamed Twitter. I've blamed having nothing to talk about, but yesterday I saw this post on one of my favorite blogs and I realized this was actually what was going on:

I hate this blog.

(Of course she always says it better.)

I didn't realize I hated it, because deep down I didn't want to. I put in a lot of work and, in many ways, I'm proud of it. But I am hating this shit for real, yo, and no longer afraid to say it.

I am tired of roasting my life. I am tired of constant daily blog networking. I am tired of feeling like I should post or no one will read this anymore. I am tired of my blog persona making me feel like who I really am. And I am beyond tired of my mom calling me and telling me this blog makes her feel like she has no idea who I am.

I am filming an episode for a Reality Show this weekend. I've made it clear once or one hundred times here that I love me a show where someone gets eliminated at the end of it, so as you can imagine, I'm gleeful. It's kind of a makeover show, and while I don't need a makeover, I want one. BADLY.

I recently moved, I'm ready to begin a new phase of my career, three of my most reliable and fun friends are no longer day players (one got a serious boyfriend overnight and two disappointed and hurt me very much, together), and most of all I want a visual representation of the new person I am trying to become.

Hopefully after Saturday I can (and will want to) show photographic evidence of this new me. In my head, she is very hot.

I'm not bold enough to delete this entire blog, (in the same way I've always been too chicken to torch genuinely torchable journals), but I have needed a break to figure out why I feel so resentful of it, like a friend that is no longer relevant to my life, someone whose conversations irritate me because I am forced to speak from a place that's not me anymore.

I don't want to feel this way about this blog, and I've been avoiding it because I haven't been brave enough to say it. Not only do I need to feel fresh and clean once again about this blog, but also my life.

So cross your fingers and hope that Saturday does the trick. As a girl, sadly, it probably will.

(Also, embarrassingly, the title of this post is not the first time I've quoted Jerry Maguire in the past twenty-four hours.)