I cut the tag out of my hat because it was infuriating me.

It's still not really better.

I am wasting time on Pinterest, eating chocolate cake as though I'll never have another slice, and thinking that I should be writing something worthwhile.

Really though, anything is better than nothing.

I did not want to come here. I did not want to re-start this blog for the 10th time. I did not want to write, really, but as I get older I am developing a sense of obligation to my art. To the parts of myself that I can only touch through the looking glass of self-reflective memoirs and shit. Otherwise, they're too hot. Too electrified to get close to. Too delicate to hold without leaving them covered in fingerprints.

In 11 days, I will be 30.

I suppose it is time to honor my gifts.

Daytime Despair.

For the last few days I have not felt "good."  

I know this feeling, and I know what comes after.

Depression, crying, frustration, indifference, confusion, anger.  Weakness.

Last semester I was so overcome with my wayward emotions that I was unable to complete my coursework.

I have been without a steady job since August of 2012, and not for lack of trying.

For the first few weeks, everything was fine.

I would bounce back in a month or two.  School would keep me busy, right?

By the time one month became three, I started to panic.

By five, I was a wreck.

I've had interviews.  I've had a few short-term situations.  But permanent work that is also fulfilling has yet to present itself.

Of course I could take to the call center environment or sell things to make someone else rich, but when I work in spaces that confine or frustrate me, I do not succeed.

And of course I've considered freelance writing or trying to make my blog a more profitable space, but all of those things require time and right now I have rent that is due.

My family thinks I should just leave my apartment and move home, not realizing that moving home would not only not really help, the stress of living in a house with two other adults who think they have a maid might result in someone dying or at least some very hurtful exchanges.

I try to rely on what I know.

It's all about networking.

It's not what you know, it's who you know.

God will provide.

He never puts more on us than we can bear.

If I can be faithful over a few things I'll be ruler over many.

But right now, I just want to pay my rent.

Reverb 12.

I tried this in 2010 and it went nowhere. Here we are on December 8th, 2012 and I'm going to try again.

Day 8.

Prompt for December 8th: Art: What was the most moving piece of art that you saw/experienced this year?  This could mean a painting or a sculpture, or a performance you took in, or even a book that you read – tell us about the kind of art you encountered, and the way that it moved you.

My first thought was "Seeing Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick on stage together."

But suddenly I remembered watching Casey Benjamin perform A Love Supreme on a motherfucking VOCODER with the Robert Glasper Experiment.

Those moments, in that club, with my eyes closed just taking it all in...there are no words.

I can still hear it, and feel the stillness of a room full of people in awe at their experience.

That was an amazing night.

Clarity.

I just came across a tweet attributed to Lao-Tzu that read "Muddy water, let stand, becomes clear."

What I read was "Chill."

In the moments where life is most hectic, it becomes imperative that we just be still.

Waters can never become calm if we are too busy trying to calm them.  We can't possibly manage everything all the time, so it becomes our job to just relax.

In the middle of tumultuous times that we cannot control, the only thing left is our selves.

While being still, then, we must take care of ourselves.

Start skin brushing or drinking green smoothies.
Meditation. Yoga. Prayer.

The situation starts to look drastically different when we attain and maintain clarity of mind.

love.

I'm up to my eyes in it.

Since I was fifteen I've sought this one thing, and it crept up on me.

I was not looking. I had damn near given up for the time being and returned to reclusive life I once lived.

And yet, it has arrived, in the most inconspicuous package.

Inconspicuous...in the obvious way.

Like an unmarked box outside the White House.

Ain't no telling what's in it or where it's from, but I opened that bitch and got the surprise of a lifetime.

I am loved.

And sweet cream on an ice cream sandwich do I love back.

The joy in my day and the calm in my night. Hearing "I love you" is more soothing than chamomile

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

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.

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