Armed propaganda.

I am running out of ways to write love poems and not be cliche.

2011-01-26T21:37:00.000-06:00

I haven't been dedicated to writing.

I can't stop thinking about it so I know it's what I should be doing.

But I also can't seem to bring myself to a place where I can do it consistently.

I am one who wastes my talents more than I use them.

And I can't find the root of the problem.

Most days, I blame my stifling environment. But really, it is no one's fault but mine. If I am not dedicated now, I can't expect dedication to magically appear.

I surround myself with people who are very serious about their work and their art, but I can't seem to pick up one shred of that inspiration.

I think the truth of the whole thing is that while I love my words and trust my ability, I am mortally afraid of how good I may be. Or how bad I may be.

I want to write an amazing novel.

I have been inspired by Toni Morrison and Zora Neale Hurston and Lucille Clifton and Ru and Monique and Amber and my mother and these generations of women who have created these big giant lives that I just cannot live up to.

I know that the most amazing works are those created without concern for whether or not they are any good or how the world will receive them, but the fear of putting my blood onto paper and having it be rejected is more that I am currently ready to handle.

Reverb 10.

2010-12-01T11:05:00.001-06:00

I'll be participating in Reverb 10 this year. One writing prompt per day from 12/1 to 12/31.

Today's prompt:
One word to describe what 2010 has been. One word to describe what 2011 will be.

2010: Full.
2011: Forward.
C. Noelle

I am thankful for...

2010-11-24T20:04:00.000-06:00

My life.

One year ago I was dreading Black Friday in a job I hated. I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I felt...awful.

But this year, I'm in a totally different place. That mistake came back to bite me, but I was not left unprotected. I left the job in favor of something else, and that opened the door for me to do a lot more.

I'm taking steps toward establishing an actual career rather than just...changing jobs. That's a big deal to me.

I could be happier, but anything worth having is worth waiting for.

I am living through an exercise in patience. Maybe not patience. Maybe a lesson in listening to my first mind instead of my impulse. Until now, impulse has always won. Even when my mind was slowing me down, my impulse pressed my foot harder on the gas pedal.

As I look down the road toward my next birthday, I am learning to temper my impulse.

Good thing my birthday is after the holidays, cuz I just KNOW I'm gonna make some irresponsible choices on December 26th. Black Friday be damned. The day after Christmas is when the REAL sales get popping.

One year from now, I will be having this same reflective moment. I will be missing home badly, but I will be ready to visit for Christmas. I will have taken my next big step. I will be on the down side of my 20s, speeding rapidly to 30, and loving every moment of my life up to that point.

Trust?! What the fuck is trust?! [/Dave Chappelle]

2010-11-07T23:08:00.001-06:00

While I was at work on Friday night, an ooooold friend came into my store. He is the ex-boyfriend of my best friend. They dated when we were maybe 15. I hadn't seen him since then, and he looked great. He quit smoking and looked 180 degrees different. [Yes, he was quite the smoker at age 15. Cigarettes and weed. And kept his Henny in a Pepsi bottle in the cupholder of his Jeep.]

He gave me his number to pass on to my friend. I gave her the number yesterday. A few hours later I called her mother and said I was coming over. As soon as I hung up the phone, she was calling me to ask me to come get her. Why?

Her son's father had just come to pick her up, but she sent him home. Her mother found out she was talking to her ex and invited him over. Well of course she had to stay and see him, right? Of course. No problem, because I was already on my way.

I got to the house a few minutes before ex-boyfriend. We all sat up playing dominoes and talking shit until about 1am. Ex-boyfriend was headed in the direction of her house, which is the opposite direction of my house. So why the hell couldn't he take her home?

Because she couldn't risk her baby's father seeing her getting out of the car with this ex.

He had seen him once and she mentioned "Oh there's so and so." I guess she didn't lie when he asked who the guy was. Good. Don't lie. Lying is stupid.

But you dated this boy when you were FIFTEEN. We are now TWENTY-FOUR. Yes it was a deep and intense relationship, but they ALL are when you're fifteen and a sophomore in high school. Why the fuck would he be mad that you got a ride home from him? Oh. Because he's an insecure ass so-and-so who doesn't trust you.

Of course she hit me with the "Well I wouldn't want him hanging out with an ex either." Girl. Girl. It was high school. The shit no longer counts. If you're with him now, why does it matter that you ran into someone you dated nine years ago and caught a ride home? It doesn't, and it shouldn't, and if your man has a problem with you speaking to a friend from high school, he's a bitch and you need to leave his ass alone ASAP.

She tried to defend his insecurity by saying "Well I have cheated on him before so I understand."

NO. FUCK THAT.

We are now adults.

If your "man" doesn't trust you to speak to another man (whether you cheated or not), y'all need to not be together. For real. Because you're wasting each other's time. If you don't trust him to speak to another woman, stay single until you get some security in your relationship.

I'll be doggoned if my partner is going to dictate my friendships to me. And if he thinks he is, he is not my partner.

A lot of women will tell you that they don't have female friends, although as I get older I think I hear that a bit less. However, I have not had more than five female friends at once ever in my life. I have always been drawn to men. That being said, I had these male friends when I met you. For a long time. And I'm not going to stop just because you feel some type of way. That's your problem.

The moral of this story:

If you do not trust each other, leave each other alone.

And if you think you want to cheat on your partner, leave them. You obviously don't love that person enough to keep your pants on and walk away from the situation. Your love for that person should override your momentary sexual desire. The math is simple. "I love my partner. I don't want to lose them. If I do this, I could lose them. Let me not."

But if you go through all those steps and STILL can step out, you need to stay single.

She said to me "But that may be someone you really could see yourself with!"

To which I replied, "Then you need to put shit on the table out gate. 'I like you. I want to be with you. However, I like to fuck a variety of people. I think we could be great together and I would like to keep you around, but it is unfair for me to make you be in a relationship while I still play single. That being said, let's keep each other company and fuck other people until we both can agree that we want to settle down.'"

Shit is simple. It gets complicated when grown ass people start to act like kids with the games and shit.

Say what you mean. Mean what you say. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to.

2010-11-04T23:37:00.000-05:00

I am sitting on my bed wide awake. Not because I can't sleep. I am tired. I will work about twelve hours tomorrow. I should be getting into bed.

But my mind, being itself, is going.

I am very tired.

I feel like everything in the world is on my shoulders and it will soon prove overwhelming.

I would really like to just...quit.

I'm ready to just give up.

I don't know exactly what that entails, but I would very much like to try.

I have too many things to do. Too much responsibility. I'm tired of wearing my big girl pants all the damn time.

If this could just be...six months ago.

I am going through a very long period of transition. I am tired of evolution. I want things to just...stop. For once. Stop. I don't want to grow anymore right now. I need a break.

I feel like the world is closing in on me and I know that it won't fall on top of me and when it gets here it will only elevate me but I have a touch of claustrophobia and I can't deal with this closeness.

I'm almost twenty five years old. People tell me how young I am all the time, but 25 is almost 30 and I'm not even sure I'm on the trajectory to get where I want to be when I'm 30.

Dear whoever is in charge of all this,
Can this please be over by next March? I'm not even sure I have it in me to last through November just yet but I can't imagine what it will be like. And I know pressure makes diamonds and I know how long it takes but just...I'll settle for being something else. Or a small imperfect diamond. I'm trying really hard to live one day at a time and see the blessings in each day and think about the lilies of the field but this shit BLOWS.

Vacation.

2010-11-01T13:54:00.001-05:00

I took a vacation last month. As I was reading some previous blogs I came across the one in which I spoke of it. Reminded me that I have not blogged since.

So...here goes...

Today is Monday, the day after Sunday. Two Mondays have passed since the last time I felt you near me. Every Tuesday and Wednesday and other day since then have left me physically feeling like something is missing. Like the day you forget to wear your watch. I think that maybe 7 days was too long. I got attached. But really, I'm not sure I don't like it.

I'm actually not sure of anything right now. Everything is open. Everything is "maybe". And I hate maybe. Perhaps, on this Monday, I am being taught to wait. To be patient. To breathe and be present, even if I am not where I want to be. I must still be here.

But regardless of it all, I had a beautiful time with a beautiful person. I was loved on and attended to in a way that is new to me. And as I sit here writing this, on a Monday afternoon, Crown Royal begins to play. If there is one song I have become quite fond of in these weeks that have passed, it's that one. I've also developed a deep attachment to The Foreign Exchange. I loved them before I left, but now they have become ingrained in the memories of that time. If we had a soundtrack, it would be Jill Scott's third album and all of FE's.

The stomach ache has returned, although I hardly felt it when I was with you. The heart palpitations and short breathing stopped, too. I took seven days to unwind. To be cute and get comfortable in the [not Milwaukee] sun. Fell in love that week. Can't focus on being here because I want to get back there. It's warmer. Even the sun seemed happier to be shining.

I was thinking that maybe I would go and I would find out that everything I thought I was wanting was completely wrong. But I was proved right. His hands felt like I knew they would. His kiss was just as wonderful. His voice was twice as soothing when being whispered into my ear. He smells like all sorts of wonderment. And he's sexy as hell. There are no words, really.

I was quiet because I was getting comfortable. I was settling in, I guess. And taking in all the moments, and in awe. Suddenly it was really happening. Just like it had happened in my daydreams. Thinking about it now, it still blows me away that that happened. One of those things you really can never explain, I guess. And if you can, it doesn't seem like it should be such a big deal. But feelings and words are not interchangeable.

It has been over a month...

2010-11-01T12:59:00.000-05:00

...since my last blog post.

And while I am not necessarily proud of that fact, it's better than eight or nine months.

I am writing this post for the sake of writing it. Because I have not written more than tweets in those months, and I'm not sure Tumblr posts count.

So here I am, an ineffective writer.

But writing mad posts about how I'm not a writer just...kinda...is ridiculous.

Welcome to Today.

2010-09-30T23:00:00.000-05:00

Today is Thursday. The day before Friday. The day before payday. I have missed the Goodwill Sale at the department store, but I have found the thing I so diligently sought. One of the things. After weeks of searching, I have found it on a Thursday. In Milwaukee, WI. The Thursday before the most important Wednesday I can remember to date. I have polished my fingers and toes in preparation for the event, although the polish will be done over before I go. Every day between now and then will be filled with electric air and anticipation of what your hands feel like when they grasp my waist.

But today is only Thursday. One day closer.

My stomach is aching as I sit here, and ideally I would ask a doctor about these sudden and often severe pains. That will be on the same day I ask about my short breathing and heart palpitations. And why my hip has started popping.

As I sit here, I think sweetly of more pleasant things although First 48 is on the TV.

I daydream, or just let my mind wander (as it is now night time and a night dream is just...a dream), about the things I could be doing and the things I should have done. What may happen in the future and how I or we may grow next year. If I don't continue forward from this jogging in place I've been doing, I will burn substantially less calories and still tire myself out. And I will have accomplished nothing.

But today, right now, I will check my mentions and play on Tumblr and re-polish the ruined nails.

Welcome to my daydream. Welcome to my future. Welcome to today.

My life, the mess.

2010-09-01T02:07:00.000-05:00

Last night I mentioned some mess in my life, but I honestly don't want to talk about it anymore.

I'll shorten it I think.

My ex is buggin' out majorly. He had the nerve to tell me that I don't know what love and friendship are because I won't take care of him anymore.

First he was trying to snap on me and cuss and accuse me of...all sorts of shit. Just throwing a tantrum whenever he could.

Then he asked me to still blow him.

Mind you, he has a girlfriend. I told him that was off the table and not under the umbrella of "I'd do what I could for you."

I said "I'll give you a ride. I'll run an errand. I won't take care of your basic every day needs. That is no longer my responsibility."

I'm spoiled, but that sense of entitlement shit is something I won't ever understand. I need to figure out what my father did to keep it from growing in me. Maybe because he had no fear about punishing me when I fucked up. There were plenty of times when I went without as a child. I actually started working when I was twelve or thirteen and had my first legal job at 14.

I have no confusion about how to get what I want, I've just been fortunate enough to have people in my life that sowed into my life and will do for me. I never expect that treatment. As much as I appreciate my father, I know he doesn't have to do what he does for me.

But some people don't get that shit.

While all of this mess is going on, this other gentleman (which he really is) is all over my interwebs and BlackBerry just wooing my heart away.

We've been talking for a long time, and the whole time we have flirted and joked about all sorts of things. But all of a sudden it took a strong turn for the serious.

And it's fun. It feels ok. It feels...good.

And it's making me happy.

AND while I'm dealing with all of that, I start to rebound HARD.

I start checking old traps.

Which was...not my best idea.

Homeboy and I used to have amaaaazing sex. So amazing that he would text and call me several times a year after I told him to go jump in the lake three years ago.

Turns out he's a personal trainer now, which is pretty good for me.

Except that he's sweating me to damn DEATH. Constant texts and calls and "watchu doin" and all that shit. I'm like...I appreciate it, but get a life ASAP.

I thought I was sweating my sugar dumpling too hard but he saaaaid he liked my morning texts.

Plus dude was big before and he got skinny. I really...only liked his size and his oral abilities anyway. Since he's not big, the allure is gone.

Rebound thoughts in action, getting me into trouble.

Plus one of my best friends told me I'm gorgeous the other day, and then I got all flirtatious and told him I think he's cute too. Which I do. I think he's soooo fly.

And I knew this might happen, so I started to tell him "Please spurn my advances for the next three weeks!" but I didn't. Not to mention that he actually started it. I didn't.

Since I didn't start it, I think it might me ok to let it play out and just see. When we saw each other the other night, it wasn't the usual "Oh hai!" gaze, it was the "Oh...hey..." gaze. Then he didn't go for the handshake. He went for the hug. And the hug was extra tight. And I let my hand linger.

My interest is piqued at this point.

And now y'all know about my messy life.

Mess and foolishness.

And fun.

Late night poetry.

2010-08-31T01:56:00.000-05:00

I've been so busy the last week or so I damn near forgot I had a blog.

I remembered tonight, though.

So here I am, writing again.

I told someone I would write them a poem a while ago, but the poem wasn't ready to be written then. However, I wrote a few tweets last weekend that were the beginning of this poem.

As I'm writing this post, let me say something...

My rebound vibes must be PUMPING because I was offered a gym membership, some "more private" pix, and asked if I would still suck his dick even though we're broken up and he has a girlfriend.

Clearly THAT is the post I need to be writing.

Anyway, read the text and/or watch the video.

Leave a comment.

Serious business.

2010-08-19T23:55:00.001-05:00

I almost can't even write this from my Blackberry.

The emotions are too big for the tiny keys.

My heart is filled to bursting with excitement and joy and love.

It's a dope feeling.

Emotions on eleven
head swimming the back stroke.
Funny timing life has.

The voice on the phone
repeated my sentiments
Made me think so much more of you, love.
Made me think not less of him.
Maybe more frequently.

Yet…all I want is you.
I almost wish I didn't
and I feel crazy sometimes.
but I know I'm not alone in my insanity.
There are others there with me.
And we all roam the halls
from daylight into dusk
Singing to ourselves about distant love.

And yes, I break into poetry. Sometimes I break into song. But at this moment the only thing that made my life communicatable was a poem. Explaining everything that just happened was tooooo much.

Crazy how life overlaps.
I wonder if it isn't repeating itself on purpose.
It has a lot to say
but it can't teach new lessons
until old ones are truly learned.
And here I am, bumping my head and determined
to beat life
to beat experience
to do things my own way and win.
I was always taught
that what I want to do cannot be done
but I don't intend to ever stop trying.

I'd ask you to forgive me if what I'm saying doesn't make sense, but if I may paraphrase Ru, "I'm searching in my purse for a fuck to give."
C. Noelle

Tuesday.

2010-08-10T20:41:00.001-05:00

Today is Tuesday.

I don't know if I have much to say.

I am writing because I love my words. I'm tired of letting time eat them. Even if I haven't written a grand piece of work, I have written something and once again kicked sloth in the ass.

The real truth is that my life is bursting with events right now. My heart is brimming with emotions of every sort. I'm sad, elated, anxious, stressed, apathetic, hopeful… And they're on an hourly rotation. Everything has happened. Everything has changed.

Welcome, change. Hello. Have a drink and settle in. I've been waiting for you.

It took some time for me to be ready. When you got here I was still in my robe.

But I'm ready now, and I was worth the wait.
C. Noelle

Why, hello.

2010-08-09T08:59:00.000-05:00

I was supposed to have resumed blog posting last Sunday.

I got sleepy and forgot. Clearly I wasn't serious.

For me, that reveals a bigger issue than this blog.

I spend every waking moment considering things I should be writing about and the wonderful ways I could assemble the words to paint the pictures of the scenery of my life and I think about all the time I've wasted not doing that.

I call myself a writer. Not "aspiring", but a writer.

At my core, my essence, that's who I am. I can't escape it. If I could, it would have left me on grounds of spousal neglect by now.

But if I do not write, blogs or stories or essays or poems, I am not a writer, I am a dreamer.

Dreamers who do not act will never get paid.
C. Noelle

The ceiling is leaking.

2010-06-06T20:01:00.000-05:00

There are cracks in the ceiling of my house.
I fear the whole thing will come down on me.
Too many years of hiding the little things and now…
the ceiling is leaking, too.

I place pots on the floor.
They catch the water as it comes.
Too many pots on the floor makes an awful racket.
Now there is not a clear path in the house.

I must plot my steps carefully now.
The bare floor is precious.
I cannot afford a spill.
There is no time to clean up the mess.

/Words/

2009-12-16T14:59:00.003-06:00

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.

2009-05-28T12:40:00.003-05:00

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!

2009-05-06T23:01:00.000-05:00

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

2009-04-11T22:32:00.001-05:00

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.

2009-02-19T23:00:00.001-06:00

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

Hate.

2009-02-16T08:49:00.001-06:00

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

2009-02-12T23:30:00.001-06:00

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
Flop
The other side
Or the next life time
Cuz that
Shit
Is for the birds.
C. Noelle

Sometimes...

2009-02-10T22:39:00.001-06:00

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.

Sometimes.

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.

Sometimes.
C. Noelle

I said no.

2009-02-10T13:34:00.002-06:00

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.

PHONE BILL!!!

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...

2009-02-09T22:49:00.003-06:00

...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.

Singing.

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

Ants On a Log.

2009-02-08T13:34:00.001-06:00

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...

2009-02-04T11:42:00.003-06:00

...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

2009-02-03T22:31:00.002-06:00

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...

2009-02-03T22:25:00.001-06:00

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

On the death of myself.

2008-11-17T23:35:00.005-06:00

I haven't blogged here in almost a year.

A few on MySpace, but not here.

In that almost year, I have sort of graduated college. If not college then that phase of my life.

I have allowed myself to love for real, and let go of the thing I held on to for three very long years. I finally let that love be free, and I finally let it die. One can only nurture the pain for so long before she just outgrows it.

I met a man who has changed my life. In the beginning, for the better. Right now, because of him, I cannot stop crying. I know that in the end, he will have changed me for the best.

At first, I cried a few small tears. They carried the pain of (just one more) man that will break my eagerly given heart. It wasn't that bad. But as I continuted, they grew. Now they are huge and pregnant with years of pain that I can't seem to get rid of. They say crying is cleansing, but after a few weeks of periodic bawling and almost constantly fighting back tears (even when I'm laughing), I have to ask the gods "When will the cleansing be over? How is it that I am not clean YET?!"

"I know that fire purifies, but I feel pure enough now so can we please just let this shit die?"

But they disagree, and the tears keep coming.

Amid them though, I am seeing something new. The world looks very different when clouded with saline. Shapes change a bit.

Through these tears, I am seeing the death of myself.

There was just one moment where I finally stopped dabbing at my tears with Puffs and just let myself heave and bawl into my pillow. I reverted to my childhood just long enough to feel the tears change from the pain in my heart to being able to actually feel the cleansing that comes.

I had to cry now, because I was shedding. I had done enough crying after him, and now it was time for me.

Though I am not done, tears have slowed. Here in my room, I have held a funeral for the death of my old self. She is almost twenty-three now, and though the age itself means nothing in particular, the addition of one year's experiences is invaluable.

But now I have mourned, and I must release. Put away the sackcloth and ashes, and begin to rejoice in the freedom.

Man Of My Dreams.

2007-12-08T00:11:00.000-06:00

That's the picture of me that people will associate with my poetry.

I've got amazing eyes.

Right now I'm sitting here eating strawberry ice cream and listening to music.

LastFM is my shit.

I should be cleaning my room or writing my paper, but it's like I've been using these last few weeks to make up for a semester's worth of self-neglect. It's about me as much as I can make it right now.

I live my life for appearance's sake. I'm also fine with that. The important thing is that I'm fine with the appearance itself. I'd rather not exert my energy to create an image that I don't even value.

But now, I am shaping myself apart from my roots. Every image I play into is one that I must love for my new singular self.

So about the title of this blog...

Meshell Ndegeocello has a new album out. The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams.

Powerful phrase, I say.

Sounds like something I've said a lot. "I'm totally fine with being my own boyfriend if niggas don't wanna act right."

And I am.

I discovered that I am
a beautiful woman
who can't find a man
to match her wits.
So I learned to match my own.
Laugh at my own jokes
and love my own body.
It's much more pleasurable
to know what I likes
by myself
and understand what I need
to live
and to function
alone
than to be dependent
and catering to whims
snottin' and cryin' and shit
over some...cat
whose sex
was wack
ANYWAY.
Singularity
has surely
shown me
that to be two
I must first become one.
But I think I like one better.
One does what she wants
all the time.
And she does what I ask her to
on the first try.
She doesn't hog the covers
or snore
or sweat when she's on top.
As a matter of fact,
One may be
the man of my dreams.

And besides all that, One likes my bald head and tells me I'm beautiful every day.
Truest words ever spoken: "You gon' have to build you a man from the ground up girl."

So I did.

And I Said...

2007-11-17T00:26:00.001-06:00

I didn't want to write poetry tonight.

But that phrase "Shit on my mind..."

Let's see where it takes us, shall we?

Baby I've got
some shit on my mind.
I'm aloof
far off
not talking much.
Because I've got shit on my mind.
Not a reflection on you
of you
of us.
Just me.
I remember saying that
none of this was personal but
it is.
Just not for you.
So chill.
I've just got some shit on my mind.

Hm...that was ok.

Sestina?

Perhaps.

Shit. Mind. You. Can. Would. Talk.

I'm about to be sick of your shit.
I swear to God I'm on the path to losing my mind.
Too early in the morning for this nonsense. Can
you just chill? I know we need to talk
and I would
if it wasn't for you

and the way you're always talking
increasing amounts of shit.
Maybe instead of me yelling at you
we could get somewhere. Anywhere would
be better than here. Get back to me when you can.
I've got some shit on my mind.

I can't take
no more of this arguing shit.
We're supposed to be adults but we can't
even sit down together. You said you would
try to fix this mess but your
schedule does not permit. But I don't mind.

Just know though, that I've got other shit
going on. My world cannot
afford to revolve around what could
have been the one real. But I know you don't mind.
Heard about you taking
that yellow bitch to lunch. She can have you.

No, really. I don't mind.
Even take your time.
I've already had my talk
with you. You can
get your shit
on Thursday. I won't
be there but...
my new man will.

*pats self on back*

Interesting concept. Needs work.

But then again...who doesn't?

Me with...

2007-11-16T23:30:00.000-06:00

shit on my mind.

Right now, I've got Jill Scott in my ears. I'm channeling her hard.

Singing and
thinking.

Writing.

I've got a whole lot of shit on my mind.

Grad school. Decided to push it back just one semester.

Was that shit smart?

I mean...in the grand scheme of things
it could only be better to wait right?
Wait until my test scores are better.
Until I feel more confident.
Until I really become the artist I say I am.
Right?

Yeah, I think so.

I thought I was in love again. Finally.

Key word: thought.

Or maybe I knew, and that's where the fear set in.

I knew all too well the feelings of anticipation and longing that he set into motion. I'm familiar with how it feels to be infatuated and to know it full well, but to love and raise it until it's become some full on crazy shit.

Conversely, I knew with the same wonderful familiarity the way it hurts when my infatuation is not his love. My infatuation is mine, and his like is his. Each doesn't know of the other's existence. Ultimately, the like goes away and the infatuation is revealed for what it is: smoke and what? Mirrors.

With the knowledge of the rapture that I caught myself in came the heaviest feeling of dread. Because my head, who thinks much more rationally than my heart, would not let me go. She only let me swim if I would wear the life preserver and the big orange vest full of foam padding to keep me afloat.

Thank God for her, and the life preservers.

For experience, wisdom, hurt, pain, aches, laughter, perception, love, infatuation, crushes, lies and truths and the shades of both.

I didn't feel like writing poetry tonight. I felt like writing prose.

Is that prose?

Yeah, I think so.

And all this happened in the span of...5 days.

I Wrote A Sestina.

2007-11-11T22:38:00.001-06:00

I didn't want blue font today.

Anyway, I wrote a sestina. I love it.
It gave me yet another outlet for these bottled up feelings.
I could be completely honest with myself and with him about the whole thing, and when he asks me I can act like I don't know what he's talking about. It could have been anyone, right?
Yup.
Could have been anyone.
And with that, I give you "A Chance With Love."

Every day I wake up and I want
to be in love.
I’ve spent so many years harboring hurt
though, that I’m deathly afraid to take this chance.
I find myself tearing
up at the realization of this nagging necessity.

The last time I thought I found love
it turned out to be the part of me that’s the neediest
rearing her ugly head. She was hurt
too when my life of wants
went unanswered. It was only chance
that she made me shed a tear.

After all these years, I’ve let the pain
create for me a personality. I would love
to be wanted.
But chances
taken in my past life made the idea of need
a very subjective thing.

You say you need
me but I don’t think I want
to be needed right now. My heart
can’t take any more chances.
Please don’t take it personal, love.
It’s not personal. I’m just fresh out of tears.

I’ve been torn
in these directions for a while. My fear of love
stems from my fear of drowning and the chance
that you won’t catch me if I fall. I just want
to be the one you need
but I know I’m inept at this and I couldn’t stand for you to be hurt.

Maybe we should just take this chance
together. We could dry each others’ tears
and put band-aids where it hurts.
If I’m to be honest with myself I must admit that I need
to be loved
by you. But my stubborn mind doesn’t want to.

For this chance at love,
I would sacrifice my wants for what I know I need.
Maybe even let you heal me where it hurts, and fix the tears in my heart.

Just some shit...

2007-11-07T22:01:00.001-06:00

At the moment I feel like "I got looooooove...on my miiiiind..."

Every morning I wake up expecting someone else to be there.

All I can think about is what he feels like and if it's as good as I think it should be.

These feelings are the reason I avoided taking these steps for so long.

The energy it takes is insane.

I might even feel better if I wasn't wondering but had concrete answers instead.

Every time I talk to him I want to say "Hey baby. How was your day? I missed you today."

But I don't feel released to say it.

It's still much to soon.

I always want to just say "I love you!"

I wish I could tell him.

I want him to know that he's my one thing and I want to be his.

When everything else is falling apart I need him to be the one thing I cleave to, and I just wish that I had the strength and time and energy to be that thing for him.

Damn.

This is cliche as fuck.

Blog Wars.

2007-11-03T12:59:00.000-05:00

I was gonna say some shit, but it would have been SO self-centered.

Things are kind of insane at the moment.

My big mouth ass can't find the right words to convey what I want to say.

I feel like I'm getting the same speech again though.

You're not any of those cats, so you say.

Then you follow that with "those cats" type behavior.

How do you expect me to take that shit?

I can't take it for shit but face value, and face value is bull shit.

Granted, you aren't the one that created face value so maybe I should give you some credit but like... niggas have bad credit around here.

Up until now you haven't done shit to earn more.

It's been a lot of talk and shit, and I gave credence to that, but what the fuck was I supposed to say?

I knew from the beginning though, that we are too strong for one another.

We can't both be hellbent on our own correctness, can we?

The shit becomes explosive.

Too much energy here.

Too much for both of us.

Two people that know how great we are individually.

We know what we want, and we have very high expectations of a mate.

It forces us to perform at this new altitude together, but it's wonderful up there.

Something's gotta give.

Not enough oxygen there, regardless of the beauty.

I guess I'll just go upstairs and make out with my new stilettos.

Green patent leather w/ a natural heel cup and a wood grain heel.

My grown girl shoes.

That's half the reason I spend all my money on material shit.

Clothes and shoes never hurt you, and if they do it's your own fault.

3 months later...

2007-11-02T00:46:00.000-05:00

Sitting here thinking...
3 months away from my blog that I said
I was going to do every day.
Here I am growing and changing and not leaving a long enough trail behind me.

I just wrote a personal poem
for the first time since September.

School has had me so consumed that I haven't been able to get away into my words like I used to. But here I am now.

I just cried again.
Too many emotions running rampant at once.
But I don't know what to do with them.
I never get to really talk to anyone, and when I do I'm on the verge of tears already.
I have let life make me crazy.
At least I've let it try.
And now
it thinks it can.

I have a taste for some dressing and cranberry sauce.
I miss home.
My grown ass is homesick.

I miss myself.
Haven't really seen her around in a while.
She knows she's loved though.
I tell her every day when I
go to class and
read shit and
study and

deprive her of sleep for the betterment of our future.

What else is there?

How can one be so
deathly afraid of the one thing
she craves?
I recoil at the thought of
your touch
because I know it will reach
clear deep down into my
soul where
I don't even let myself go too often.
I hide from it and
pretend it's not what it is but in
reality I just
want to be in love and
love on you and
be loved on and then
live in that space
that I've been hiding from
with you and
show you everything that she's been keeping
in there.
And I want to tell you
all these things
every time I hear your voice.
I want to tell you
I love you.

Ha.

2007-08-03T21:19:00.000-05:00

You wanna know if I love you?

Yeah I do.

Ha.

That's funny though.

You never said it, but I know you wanna know.

You drop some big ass hints.

If you ever ask me, I'm going to say no.

How Do I Tell You...

2007-08-01T13:08:00.000-05:00

How do I tell you that I love you?

When you said you needed something my first thought was "Say the word and you've got it."

I'd do anything in the world for you, but I can't tell you.

I think about you every time the wind blows.

I worry about you.

Always want to call and make sure you're ok.

Can't stand to see you not feeling right and me not being able to help you.

I can't believe that I want to be there for you like that.

Lie up under you and love on you all night long.

I want to cover your skin with my kisses and soothe your restless soul with my tears and massage away the stresses of your life with my hands.

But I can't really tell you that.

Because if I did I'd fall in love for real.

Enraged.

2007-07-26T10:56:00.000-05:00

I can't drive when I'm angry.

I get the urge to drive over medians.

I go blind...get tunnel vision.

I do it anyway, but I don't even feel safe with myself.

Think I have an anger problem?

Maybe.

I mean...

it's not all the time and

it's not every time I get mad but...

it's dangerous.

Seems to me that
my anger has learned to control me.
I used to be the stronger person but lately
the stresses of life have rendered me useless
against this force.
Takes all my energy
to keep me sober
and alive
and not screaming.
Trying to fight the same passions that fuel love
with nothing more than
the inability to move
has rendered me helpless
almost hopeless
dependent on
the little bit of sense
I have left
to keep me alive
my
anger has learned to control me
and I don't think I'll fight anymore.

I'm Proud of Myself.

2007-06-09T01:51:00.000-05:00

I'm proud of myself.

I went to get dessert with a friend of mine after work, and nothing happened.

While that's not 100% on me, I did a damn good job of keeping my pants on and my hands to myself.

When I left there, I went to see an old fuddy of mine.

He's gained a few pounds and he looks so damn sexy.

He touched me and tickled me and had I stayed there he would have fucked me and I'd be asleep in his bed rather than writing this blog.

However, I knew how he was making me feel so I had to take my exit.

But damn...he just looks so good!

I have to pat myself on the back for having willpower for once.

Go me and shit.

So I was sitting here and shit...

2007-06-06T00:05:00.001-05:00

That's my thinking face.

Yes.

I fucking said it.

Nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger.

Niggerish, niggardly (which is, in fact, a word), niggaholic.

Anyway, I was thinkin' about the word "nigger".

So the fuck what?

However, this is not the point.

I'm mad and shit.

Who the fuck told these fools out here that "nigger" means ignorant?

I bothered to look the shit up online, and three different sites all related it back to its original and derogatory roots in the Black and racist communities.

That shit does not now, nor has it ever, meant "ignorant".

It means Black.

Plain and fuckin' simple.

What concerns me about this, however, is that the connotation of the word is changing and people are forgetting what they're truly saying.

No way in hell is calling someone your "nigga" calling them a friend or comrade.

I wish people would just take a minute to remember what they're saying, and just think before they speak.

How much sense does it make for someone to say "Well I can say that shit because it means he's my friend, but if you say it I'll bust you in the mouth."

If white people said that about any word in the English language we'd be hollering language based racism or some other dumb ass shit.

I just read an article about the word in relation to that Michael Richards incident. (Here it is, as a matter of fact.)

The author contends that no one should use it, and everyone needs to think hard before they speak.

I agree.

Stop saying that shit, but never forget it.

To forget it is to invite slavery back and let them take our rights to voting and land.

That shit was only 40 years ago, by the way.

Frame it and make a relic of it. Put it up in a museum for all to see.

Inside a slave ship.

And around it place shackles and chains and whips and cotton.

Put that shit up next to it too.

People Keep Asking Me...

2007-05-29T12:27:00.001-05:00

People keep asking me why I chose to become celibate.
No one can understand how somebody can just give up sex and still be alive I guess.
But I haven't been able to really talk about it to anyone.
They ask, and I answer. But not honestly.
So what better than to tell a bunch of strangers who probably will never read this?

I did it because I wasn't getting any in the first place.

And in my time off, I thought. I thought a lot.

I thought about the relationship I had just come out of that was fueled by about 98% pure lust and sexual energy.

We would lock eyes and lock hands...lock lips and arms and bodies...and before I knew it I was on orgasm number 5 and cloud 9 and losing my soul bit by bit to someone that wouldn't even store it properly.

And I couldn't get him to pick up the phone all day some days.

Couldn't even get him to keep a date.

But he could call when he needed some, and my silly perceptive ass was happy to oblige.

And when that bull shit ended and I escaped back to Oz to live my life alone again, the calls stopped coming and I stopped trying to make them and I realized that I just didn't need it.

Sex brings an insane amount of stress to any relationship.

Friends that fuck are often not friends anymore.

And sex can cause two people that otherwise love each other to stop talking and never want to speak again over a misunderstanding when the understanding that they had, which was greater, may have been that which changed the world.

I didn't have time for that stress.

And as I thought, I remembered that my body is a temple. By doing what I was doing I was desecrating my temple on more than one level.

I disrespected my body and I was giving away my mind, and one day I woke up and I was tired of that. I wanted my SELF back, and I wanted my control back.

And now I've got it, and I'm happy.

If I never meet another man that can deal with having a girlfriend that won't fuck him, I'll be my own damn girlfriend.

:)

Music To Blog By

2007-05-21T00:21:00.001-05:00

I tried to add this on the side w/ the pix, but it was too wide.

Just music I love.

I'm SOOOO fucking tired.

2007-05-20T23:53:00.001-05:00

I'm tired as fuck.

And I'm irritated because I let myself get this way.

I knew what I was doing, and I saw the shit coming.

But I went with it anyway.

Note to self: next time you're so fuckin' unsure, don't jump in head first.

I keep saying I'm so through with love.

I need to just chill.

Wait for God to send my man and shit.

But then something gets dangled in front of me and before I can go forward prayerfully like I know I should, I'm like "Well maybe I'll just test the waters on this one."

And then the shit is scalding fucking hot.

You would think I'd learn.

I'm making excuses for my behavior and seeing signs. Calling little things signs and paying them too much attention.

Shit I was so excited to just have a saved man in my life I forgot his ass was human. Didn't think he would be in the same place I am.

But then he was.

And I was fucked, again.

I'm not in the mood.

2007-05-04T00:16:00.000-05:00

For anything.

I'm stressed and I'm tired.

I just had those thoughts of death again.

Just to sleep and not wake up.

I don't feel like crying right now.

Don't have time for it.

Maybe I'll feel better in the morning.

Maybe it's all in my head.

Maybe I'm not stressed or depressed.

I'm just dramatic.

Call me the drama queen.

Life is Beautiful.

2007-04-25T15:37:00.000-05:00

So here I am again.

I've been gone for a while, but I've been busy.

God has been good to me.

So in my last blog, I told you about that one job right?

I got another one too.

They essentially just handed it to me, lol.

So now when school starts in the fall I'll have 2 jobs.

I just left my advisor's office a minute ago, and found out that I'm graduating in one year.

Two more semesters and I'll have a degree.

I mean...that's pretty much it, lol.

School's getting hectic because of the time of year that it is, but other than that I'm good.

I've got this real good feeling right now.

Like being high without the smoke.

Called home, and my dad said we'll get my summer school paid for some kind of way which means one or two less classes in the spring of 08.

It's a nice day, and my little brother doesn't have any homework.

Remember how good those days felt?

:)

It's 2:29 AM.

2007-03-31T02:29:00.000-05:00

That was me at a party a few weeks ago.
I was really feelin' my outfit, so I needed everyone to know how fly I was.

Today I found out that I got a job in this program I was really hoping for.

It was a process to get in, but I'm here now and I plan to rock the shit out of this job.

I'm the only Black girl there.

I'm sleepy.

My face feels oily.

I feel a spontaneous poem forming.

Yeah...it stems from my heartburn.

My heart...burns.
Part of it is pizza.
The other part is lost love and
leftover lust that has yet to be properly treated.
I find my mind
After hours of searching
I find her wandering
Through my futures and my memories
And there you are.
She's with you.
In your arms and remembering
How that one night felt.
After sweat and passion and fighting back
the urge to whisper in your ear
Oh...my...God...
I love you...
That one night after sweating and passion and orgasmic memorizations of your presence
Those moments when
You held me and kissed me and just barely touched me and
Showed me
love
And the days yet to come
Where you and I begin the revolution
Side by side and
Locked in an embrace of love and passion and a coup d'etat to rock humanity
Back to sanity.
But alas, it is all in my mind
As I find her wandering
Through my futures and my memories
With pieces of my present in her hand.

And now, I am sad.

2007-03-07T15:05:00.000-06:00

That girl in the picture (red shirt) is one of my good friends up here in Oshkosh, where I go to school.

Well...the one in the pink was too, but she quit last spring. This year has been strange w/o her.

Anyway...

We live in the same building, two doors away from each other.

She's my only friend up here at the moment, and now I'm without her.

She wants me to keep her friends warm for her until she comes back in the fall, but this shit is currently depressing. Especially since I love her friends so much. It's gonna be pretty hard to hang out w/ them without her.

Oh my.

I guess I'm done lamenting now.

I'll be back later to whine some more though.

Hell to the Naw.

2007-03-07T00:46:00.000-06:00

So...

I called home today and shit.

It's dawned on me that there are some SUPER dizzy bitches in the world.

Like...

What the fuck.

Out of control.

15 years old and pregnant and shit.

I can't even verbalize right now.

Way too much going on.

In the morning...

In the morning...

Oh.

And I'm mad my best friend said this guy I have a) known all my life and
b) slept with in the past has slept with some UGLY ass hairy
lookin' Dominican broad.

That is some SHIT.

It's Been Awhile...

2007-03-05T21:20:00.000-06:00

I haven't blogged in several months.
I know, I'm slipping.
But I'm back now so...yaaay!

I've shaved my head since the last time I was here, and actually that's about all
that has changed in my life. The semesters changed and the weather
got bad but...nothing else interesting has happened.

Men still don't know how to act and I still limit my company with other people so...yeah.

Oh!
Here's an interesting tidbit!
Today in class, I actually didn't fall asleep and shit.
And my professor actually commented on it.
He said "No dozing (insert government name here)!"
And I said, "I know! I didn't! But...I also had a huge energy drink and a nap today."
Then he said, "Well, if you didn't contribute so positively I'd be a lot harsher on you, but you always have positive input so it's OK."
I laughed, but in general it made me feel good today.

Yay me!

Maybe tomorrow will be mas interesante.

Hmmm...

2006-11-19T21:26:00.000-06:00

Aight I had to get my real blog out of the way to make room for the nothingness.

Right now, my head is empty.

I'm ready for break, and I can't even begin to think straight anymore. Books make my head hurt.

I'm tired. I feel sick all the time. Sometimes my eyes just say "Hell with this!" and lose focus w/ no warning!

I think I feel like writing off the top of the dome...

I sit here staring at this screen
Hours out of my day...
Can't even tell you what I read or wrote or
Anything for that matter
Is my life walking by my window?
Through the grass and around trees and in snow
My life is actually somewhere far beyond
It's not under my window
Or in the grass out there
Not even @ home in my bed having dinner w/ my family
My life died the minute I picked up the first novel of my junior year of college
I had to kill it before it killed me
Academically

Yeesh!

2006-11-19T21:09:00.000-06:00

It's been a few days since I've blogged.

It's not like I have a loyal fan base, but I'm just saying.

I guess I blog to myself to help keep my life events in order. I often forget what day it is.

So the other night I went to see the fathers from Black.White.

The good thing is that I remembered to write down the point that I was so serious about.

So Brian, the Black guy said "I read all the blogs and stuff about the show, and people were saying 'Oh the Black family is just hypersensitive to race. It's not that bad.'[...]I don't have to look for racism, because it finds me. Racism knows where I am.[...]
I went to a seafood store down in LA b/c I love seafood. When I got to the register, the white guy behind the counter looks at me
and says 'You know we don't take food stamps.' Now...did I have to look for that or did it just happen?"

Valid point? I'd say so.

People always accuse the Black community as a whole to being overy sensitive and always
looking for things to come our way, but when we live in a world where people automatically
assume we need assistance to buy our food, are we looking for that? Are we looking for some
of this discrimination on jobs and in communities when it comes to buying homes?

This shit happens on the daily.

It's 100% real.

It's too late to be blogging...

2006-11-15T04:23:00.000-06:00

I'm tired as all get out.

I meant to do this earlier, but school trumps blogging.

Anyway, today was interesting.

I had one class, and I was late.

My prof was like "OK..this time you're a little too late."
(insert stern face here)

The unfortunate part was that
I don't know if I could have cared less.

Anyway, other than that mess, I saw the two fathers
from that FX show Black.White.

Great presentation.

I was really torn between that and staying in to watch House, but
the speakers beat Hugh Laurie.

The Black father made some good points which I'm going to
scribble down right now before I forget them, and blog about them when I can type and not have to fix shit constantly.

Errrmmmm...

I think that may be it for now.

I'm kinda mad that my sleeves on this waffle print hooded henley are short for no reason.
I bought 5 or 6 of these things and only one of them did this. Talk about annoying!

Oh! On the up side, my late night ramblings have allowed me to be awake
for the highlight of my evening! A tag on my Paxed page from my favorite intellectual, Jay_20782.

It' s funny...as soon as I saw that tag I perked right up.

I'm too damn old to be boy crazy. Ha!

Inside my mind...

2006-11-14T01:32:00.000-06:00

I'm one of those people that expects you to read my mind.

If you know me, you should already know what I'm thinking b/c I'm predictable.

I never really like anything or anyone, unless it's free food.

But alas, I have succumbed to the blog craze.

Now you don't have to try to read my mind, because I'll regurgitate all
my angry thoughts onto this thing.

That being said, check back often for updates.

Just some junk...

2006-11-13T23:46:00.000-06:00

I was just on another site talking about a song that has
gained mass popularity online.

"Y'all Should All Get Lynched" by NYOIL.

http://www.myspace.com/nyoil if you haven't heard it.

Some love it, some hate it.

Personally, I think that anyone who understands what he's saying
on a real level can't possibly get mad.

If you get it, you know how true that shit is.

So I said...

"There was one line in that song that really had me pissed.

Not at him or at his message (which I'm 300% in agreement with), but about what he was talking about.

I don't remember it exactly, but it was something along the lines of "White man fuckin a Black woman on a dirty bed...had her screaming heil Hitler with his foot on her head...fucked her in the ass til his face was red...then changed his mind and nutted on her face instead."

I get pissed because I'm like...Damn. Is that REALLY what we're allowing to be done to ourselves?

This shit is not about individuals anymore, it's about the collective Black community. As a whole, people don't see it as destruction. They see it as life, and THAT'S where the massive ass problem comes in.

We've stopped fighting for life and started just accepting the bull shit we're handed. In a minute, we'll be back in the back of the bus. They've already succeeded in segregating a lot of schools again, so what's next?"

So what's next?

What else are they going to get to take from us before we fight back?

They already have our money and a lot of our pride.

We hardly have a culture of our own anymore.

Have our souls been sold to the devil, or are they just on loan?

Maybe this gives a little insight into my atypical psyche.