The quiet continues.

The good news is that I’ve crawled out of April’s rubble, a little bruised, but still in tact. The word of the moment is Reconsider. I’ve had to take all of my lids off. Unpack myself. Determine what’s worth keeping and what needs to be tossed. Unlike my previous times of growth, where I went through the motions in writing, this instance demands silence. Perhaps it’s because I’ve learned the power of words and I don’t want to give my jumbled thoughts any permanence. Most of what I thought about myself during the last month didn’t need to stick.

Also, I’ve allowed myself to outsource some of this change. My internal was such a mess that I required some assistance in sorting it out. I’ve spent some time perusing some inspirational blogs and in the beginning I thought I’d do one of those “Change Your Life in [X] Amount of Days” type deals, but I realized those just aren’t my style anymore. I want this to stick. It’s got to be gradual. I have found ideas and practices that resonate with me and incorporated them into my thinking, at my own pace. So far, so good.

I’ve narrowed down a few things that I want and I let myself be clear and open to the Universe. God. Creator. Myself. Whatever spirit or energy that’s out there. He/She/It and I know what I want. Oddly enough, that clarity was inspired by a damn Drake line of all things: “So ain’t shit that Imma wait for. I’m the type to say a prayer and then go get what I just prayed for.”

People swear that song is blasphemous, but it confirms my belief that God will find you where you are.

For the first time, I’m not framing my wants around what I wish to gain, but what I wish to give. Not what I want to have, but how I want to feel. This articulates why I’m against grandiose dreaming in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a douchebag. My intentions are feelings and not so much status or things.

So that’s it. A brief update on where my head is at the moment. Not heady, but not down in the dumps, though I do feel some mo-jo once again pumping through my veins. I’m glad. I missed it.

One of my favorite Jadakiss lines states “Listening is like livin’/when you talkin’ is death.” I guess this is why I haven’t had much to say lately. With my life in transition, shutting the hell up and listening is good for me.

I’ve had days where I wanted to sit in the middle of my living room floor with a glass of wine and not move until October. I’ve had days where I didn’t want to get out of bed. I’ve had days where I come home from a long day of school and work and spent twenty minutes sitting in my car, terrified to go in my apartment and be alone with my thoughts.

I’ve asked myself several times this week if I need to bite the bullet and go back to therapy. I haven’t been since 2008.

Maybe I needed to do something different? Like make-up. I wanted to start with something “new” that didn’t scare me so much. I ran back and forth to Target and Walgreens and spent endless confused minutes in the make-up aisle. The labels were written in Latin.

And I spent some time on natural hair websites. Changing my hair, that would help. Another something different. I tried a bun. It was sloppy, but cute, I suppose.

I had pots and pans that sat in my sink for two weeks. My refrigerator was empty, save for water, juice, Bolthouse Berry Smoothie, and Canada Dry that I’ve been mixing with the Maker’s Mark in my freezer.

Oh yeah, I tried whiskey. It was my most successful experiment of the last two weeks. God bless Jameson.

On Tuesday, I told my theory professor that my term paper on Invisible Man left me feeling much like the story’s protagonist: I had no answers for anything and wanted to retreat into a basement and hide there for…ever.

This made him laugh. Another accomplishment for the week.

A half hour later, I freaked the fuck out when I walked into class and noticed that the row of desks where I usually sit wasn’t there. How the fuck did an entire ROW of seats disappear? Did any gotdamn thing stay the same? I pulled a desk into the empty space and sat there. No full row. Just one desk.

As I walked to my car from class last night, I asked myself: What do you do when your life stops working for you?

God answered: You get a new one.

I came home and threw away the nasty pots and pans. I will buy new ones.

A good friend recently said via Twitter: “If you never contradict yourself, you’re not growing.”

Welp. Here grows nothin’.

Wait.

For the last two weeks, I’ve been bitching about how much I hate periods of change. This morning, I found some clarity. Figured out that change doesn’t have to be sweeping and immediate. You know, Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that cliche stuff. There are areas where I need to be still; some others where I need to prepare to move. More than anything else, I see the need to think strategically about my present. None of that “big dreams” and “goal setting” stuff, but not taking the “I’ll deal with that fire when it catches” approach either. The point is to prevent the fire in the first place. (I know, I’m hella late with that epiphany, but I TOLD YA’LL I’M HARD-HEADED!)

Opening my mind is part of the process as well. Not seeking advice but paying attention when wisdom presents itself and embracing my right to change my mind. Like my girl Keila once said, “We do what the hell we want until we don’t wanna do it anymore. Then we do something else.”

But I should’ve known my life would erupt into chaos when the Colts released Peyton Manning. It was an omen.

Letting go of things that no longer work is paramount. For example, being a Miami Heat fan. Not even Dwyane Wade’s chocolate-coated, perfectly sculpted body can override my disdain for their uninspired style of play. I stuck out this “Big Three” clusterfuck for as long as I could and if they were just losing, I’d be okay. I can’t deal with soul-less primadonnas, though. Where’s the spirit? Alonzo Mourning didn’t survive that 17-letter kidney disease for dudes to play with no heart. Championship or not, I’m over it.

But hey. We’ll always have 2006.

And Wade still fine.

“Cuz you my baby, I be stuntin’ like my daddy.” My dating life is incomplete until I can say this to a man.

I bit the bullet and am giving Instagram for Android another try. I try not to be  too swayed by public opinion, but it does feel a weeeeee bit pretentious. And I don’t love its picture size restrictions, either.

I said I wouldn’t write one of these this week. Glad the words found me.

Don’t slow down, cuz she ain’t got time. To be complainin’. Shorty gon’ shine.

Fin.