I haven't blogged in ages. I don't even know what to say anymore. I'm almost out of words except that they are some of my favorite things. I always have them, even when I can only cry. I find the words to comfort myself or make it feel better, or to explain to other people what the problem is or isn't.

The curvature of the letters is like art to me. Sometimes I practice my penmanship over and over again just so I can see how things have changed. When I was young I could take up two lines with one letter, and there was no difference between upper and lower case. I don't like lined paper too much because it limits how free I can be with them. At my best times and my worst times, I always have words and letters and there seems to be an endless number of them.

The dictionary is huge. The font is tiny. And every year there's at least one new word added.

One of these days I'll write a piece for them. I'm not in the mood to write love poems now, but once I get my appetite back...


Things that are very odd.

Things that are very odd...

I am in love.

Yes, again.

But this time it is different.

This time it is the one thing I have been praying for since I was old enough to understand that I should have a prince charming.

This time, I don't love anyone else.

I only love him. I only want him. And he loves me back. He wants me back.

We lie in the bed at night and whisper our secrets to one another. We exchange ideas and thoughts on walks through the neighborhood. We passed an old married couple and greeted them; I'm almost certain we both were thinking "fifty years from now..."

I can be every thing that I am with him. I can be a bitch and a silly goose and a child and a woman. A lover, a fighter, a friend, a mother, a daughter...

and he loves every part of me.

When I look at him music starts playing...

you love me...especially...different...

And for me, it's amazing.

I started writing a piece last night in my head for him. May perform it tonight if I can get it together.

I can tell this is going to be a challenge.

Perhaps it is not time for me to write for him.

But I think it is.

And perhaps none of this is odd to anyone else, but to me it is.

But not the bad way.

As a matter of fact, in a new and wonderful way.

Odd and excellent and amazing and every superlative that exists.


Adult Content. I ain't line!

I'm in a bar right now. "Look Back At Me" is playing. As I'm sitting here bobbing my head, I start to listen to the lyrics (http://www.metrolyrics.com/look-back-at-me-lyrics-trina.html). Everything she's saying is like…hurting my heart. Not for it's offensive nature (if you haven't heard it, it's mega X-rated), but because I was in all those situations.

He had me begging for the dick. Saying all types of shit no lady should ever say. But when the lights went off I was no lady. I was his bitch. He called me "Black queen" but he treated me like his ho. My blindness to him was such that I started to like the way it made me feel. I did shit I never thought I would do. Probably the only thing I ever said "never" to. Other people watched. There might be a tape somewhere. But every time I did something he wanted me to without him having to choke me first (yeah it was like that), I felt a little less like myself. I was one step further into what I thought he wanted, and did not even realize that I could never really be that.

And I still can't believe I did that shit. That he would do that to me. It still hurts me that I loved him with all of my heart; some days I still do. In three years he could never say it back. But I gave and I gave and I hoped that he would start to put something back into the gaping black hole that loving him was leaving.

I guess he was leaving me with something, now that I really think about it. An understanding of things. Not things between him and me, but an understanding of the nature of things.

To be continued…
C. Noelle


The Nature of Love

I love hella easily.

It doesn't take much before I'm accidentally adding it to the end of my texts.

I have dated two men, both of whom have interesting situations.

Because of who I am and how I love, I feel like their situations are also mine. To me, it's nothing. Whatever the shit is, you and I are going through it together.

Most recently, he has a daughter. She's adorable. He could not deny her if he had God himself testifying on his behalf. She looks just like him.

A recent Tweet of mine read "How do you say 'I love you and I want to be a part of your life. Because of the nature of true love, I want to be a part of her life too.'"

Because that's what love means, and what real love does.

Ultimately, that is not what's poppin. I end up hurt because I could not restrain my willing and wanting heart.

But someone else calls, and I love him too.

And how do you say then "I still love him, but I love you too. And I want to be a part of the intimate details of the makings of you, like I did him."

I am an uncontrolled and unrestrained…

serial lover.

And I believe that that is the nature of love. Continuous giving.
C. Noelle


Stupid arguments.

We had one today.

"I'd like to see you before I leave tomorrow."

I was mad I didn't see him before I left. I meant today. He thought I meant yesterday.

I'm kinda sad because I really miss him.

Point being, you never really know what the other person heard.

We had a spat and that shit left me feeling bad. What if something happens while I'm gone?

I should say I'm sorry. I miss you. If I get into an accident and go into a coma just know that I went being in love with you.

That's what I should say.

Maybe I will.

This shit goes a good amount deeper than just me and B. It's really about B and other women.

About me feeling slightly inadequate and acting in that, but also being the type of chick that would give you her last just because.

Even when I'm mad and want to say whatever I'm thinking and get shit off my chest and maybe roll my neck a little, I've gone back into "just don't say shit" mode. At least partially.

Today, I didn't. And I snapped prematurely. Now I have to apologize, because it's driving me crazy.

But I wouldn't want to be with a man that I didn't want to apologize to. If I don't want to apologize, he's a soft ass and will take my shit. What woman wants that?

That or I've been dicked into submission.
C. Noelle



I would just like to say that "I hate you" has become code for "I love you more than anything."

Also, pressure applied at just the right moment can make a man whimper.
C. Noelle


On The Flip

Another poem. Off the dome. Needs some editing, though. Maybe later.

I thought he was
a realer kinda dude
but in reality he was
really kinda full of shit
just like these other kinda dudes
Which was cool too
But for some other kinda bitch
Cuz this kind don't have the time
For his kinda bull shit.
Not today anyway.
Maybe catch me on the flip
The other side
Or the next life time
Cuz that
Is for the birds.
C. Noelle



He came to see me at work today.

I wasn't there.

He was five minutes early.

I miss him. Just saw him yesterday. Big difference between seeing and seeing though.

I need some of those kisses.

When he does stuff like that, I wanna drop the "L" word.

At the end of every day when I text him goodnight, I want to say "Good night baby. I **** you. Sweet dreams."

And in the morning, when I wish him a beautiful day: Good morning snugglemuffin. Have a great day. I **** you. Kiss the kids for me.

All that.


Other times I snap out of my non-reality before the clouds cover my dream world. I know I can't say it. The best I can do is offer first to cook for him, second to bring something. If he's not hungry, I offer my presence and my kisses that he's come to expect.

But I can't say the realest thing on my mind.

Donny Hathaway can. And Stevie can. But C. Noelle is at a loss for words.

What if I do say it and he didn't even expect it (even after six months) and it freaks him out and he won't answer my calls? Then what?

Then nothing.

And nothing hurts.

C. Noelle

I said no.

There was a time when I had zero interest in teaching.

But I always wanted to give back in some way.

I figured I'd just work at a non-profit.

Everyone thinks English majors should teach.

Nevermind what we actually wanted to do with that degree; the only option is to teach school.

I didn't want to.

Every time someone asked I said "Oh heeeeell no!"

Until he mentioned it.

He said "Babe...I know you didn't get that degree to work at *******"

He was right, of course, but for me this job is a pit stop.

There's insurance and a nice discount, but it's getting to the point where the money isn't enough. I'm ready to move out and not have my phone bill be a strain on me.


I want to take a trip next week. $130. I don't have phone bill money, money to pay for that, eat, spend, and pay my Gap bill.

Not a whole lot, actually, but I don't have it.

So...why not teach? Something to do. A way to give back. And I can get my certs in far less time than it would have taken to get an education degree. The sub course is...$150 max.

Sounds like a plan, stan.

It's always good to be with someone who makes you want to do more. Better.

Sounds good..."More. Better. Love."

Be lookin' out for that...


I started this blog...

...from my Blackberry.

Then I changed my mind.

I had another revelation today about why I love him.

Aside from the fact that he's so damn good looking and his smile just makes my day every time.

And Seven jeans.

And the passion he has for those kids.

After all that.

He cares about me.

He opens all the doors and he makes sure I have simple shit.

Like something to eat before I go to work.

And his last two dollars.

But sometimes I wonder...

He makes me happy though.

Rubs my head and lulls me to sleep...lets me lie on his chest even though I know his arm is going to sleep...gives me morning breath kisses even after he's brushed his teeth...

all that.

And most of the time I go to sleep smiling.


Now the skies could fall...not even if my boss should call...the world it seems so very small...


Ants On a Log.

A friend of mine recently Tweeted this statement: "As I get older, I want kindergarten food more and more."

When we're kids all we want is to drive and do whatever grown-ups to. As adults, all we want is ants on a log and nap time (which studies have shown increases productivity in the workplace).

I personally don't mind being an adult though. I can dress myself (although I do have to lay out my clothes and bathe at night), and drive a car, and go to work every day (which actually kind of sucks).

Either way, I'm alive and childless so I win right?

Except for the moments when I feel like my youth is fleeting. When I feel like 23 is really 50 and I haven't started saving for retirement. I'm not in a serious relationship (whatever that is). I'm not married or even really almost. My job suddenly feels dead-end and other people have done soooo much more with the same number of years than I have. Some with less.

What is my contribution to society? Whose life have I made better through the use of mine? Why can't I get a man to fall hopelessly in love with me like every other woman I know seems to be able to?

Those are the moments when ants on a log is better. When I'd rather have a nap and learn to use purple plastic safety scissors than do morning paperwork.

But alas, this is my lot.

And by the way, what dumbass backs into an angled space? How do you not notice that you'll be going up the down when you leave?
C. Noelle


I'm lying in bed...

...and I'm blogging.

But I seriously think I'd prefer to be doing this from my phone.

Doesn't matter. It IS a shout out to my laziness, though.

I need to eat.

And bathe.

And go to work.

Starting in the afternoon is like a mini day off for me, really. I can sit around and not do shit until I get ready. And watch Maury.

How the hell do you test three men at once and NONE of them be the father? Like...you're bold enough to bring three men on national TV but not four?

Did you forget?

Or maybe your math was wrong.

I don't even know, yo.

So...I'm dating an old man now.

Not that anyone reads this blog to care, but whatever.

Oh shit...I don't think I'm posting this link on Facebook. I forgot that who I'm dating is nobody's business.

Anyway, I love him a whole lot. He's always on my mind, and every time I do something it's with him in mind. Would he like it? Does he mind if...

And he likes me for everything about me.

Because I know he hates my shoes but it never stops me from buying them. Because no matter what I'm cooking I think about his needs and the fact that he only likes ground beef.

He said "Babe those pants are granny as hell."
And I said "So?! They're comfortable!"
"And that's why I dig you chick. You don't give a fuck what I think."

He rubs my head in bed and kisses my neck.

I think that was the third thing he did that got me wrapped up though. He talked about his kids, he gave me his last $2, and he rubbed my head.

What more can a chick ask for?


My Hip Hop

So I've been using my Berry to write shit off the top, but I forgot.

Some of it is good, some could be better.

Either way, here's one.

It wasn't Jay-Z
and it wasn't Lil Wayne
MC Such and Such
Young This and That...

It wasn't a groundbreaking young
female emcee
with the metaphors
of several grown men.

It was a live band
and shaking Black Thought's hand
and showing him my head
under that big scribbled scarf
and realizing that larger than life
is shorter than me
but thank God that height don't
determine the strength of a true emcee.

It was feeling the energy surge
behind me
cuz they know all the lyrics
and seeing lighters up
fists pumped
when their hero spit them lines.

My hip hop's president
is not Black
and cannot believe
that the one drop rule
continues to apply
but it loves him no less
because he's got a hip hop state of mind.

It was checking for some new emcee
on the strength of an e-mail
and 2 years later
almost becoming a groupie
even though that male
never came through.

But I'm glad that I've found myself
and you.
I am better for it.

I think I started that one at the Elzhi show and finished or edited it @ Prince Poe. I think.

Not my favorite, but also raw and unedited.

About This...

I am blogging from my Crackberry. Every day I find another way to attach it to my self. And now I cannot live without it. On another note, I love.

Yes, again.

This time I love thrice. All very real. Or maybe I just covet. Who's to say?
C. Noelle