BOOKS: How many of us have them.....and how many is too many?

As I prepare to check one more thing (relocation) off of my 40 in 40 List, I am faced with a dilemma - to bring or not to bring?


I've been wanting to move out-of-state for the past few years and have even set a few moving dates. But, it never seemed to be the 'right' time....until now. Baby girl has finally left the nest and Mom has moved in to care for Grandma so there is nothing to stop me from making moves. The last date I set was April 28th so I started packing my things in February. I think I did a pretty good job of weeding out the unnecessary and managed to box up everything, except for my clothing & personal use items and my books. Ahhhhhh, my book collection!

If you didn't know, I love Love LOVE to read....and I have many books and magazines to prove it. I have no idea just how many books I own (maybe I'll put 'count books' on my to-do list) but I own quite a few. I finally took them off of their shelves and put them into boxes last weekend. Then, I thought to myself, 'Do I really need to take all of these books with me?' I mean, I've read most of them; out of, say 150, I've read at least 140. Over the years, in response to various people remarking that I need to give my books away, I've said, 'I just might want to read them again.' Yet, I can't think of a time I've actually re-read any of my books. I liked the thought of having them there, though, just in case. Now, I'm rethinking that thought.

I have three boxes of heavy, already read (and truthfully, out of my head) books: small ones, large ones, thin ones, extra-thick ones, sad, happy, glad-to-be-nappy ones, paper back, hardcover and even audio-taped ones. How many of these books do I really need to keep? It's one thing to carry them, locally, from residence to residence but, do I love them that much to ship them across state lines??? I don't know about that. As much as I opposed them, when they first came out, feeling much like Amanda Talar (read her, she's awesome!), I've come to appreciate my Kindle. Not only do I love the convenience & lightness of it (just throw in purse & go), I've also come to like the feel of it in my hand....almost as much as I like the feel of an actual book. I have enough books in my Kindle 'unread' collection to keep me busy for the next month or two, so why can't I say 'bye-bye' to my hardcopies and move on with my e-copies?

I mean, as much as I'd like to believe I will, I probably won't ever go back and read any of the books I have sitting in boxes taking up space, waiting to be shipped to and stored in another state. The more I think about it, the more I think, 'Nahhhhhh....don't do it.' Not only will it save me a few dollars in shipping costs, but it will also save me time and energy that I will use to organize them in a new place. So, I think I will go through them, take out the few that I really love (my favorites, that I juuuuuuuust might peek at again...or give away) and the ones I haven't read yet and get rid of the rest. I would never just throw out a book, of course, but I will donate some and sell some at the garage sale I will be participating in, in the near future. I feel a sense of relief already, with that being said, so I can just imagaine how I'll feel when I actually do it. Yup, sounds like a plan!

See what writing down your thoughts and feelings can do for you?


P.S. Now my O Magazine collection? That's a whole 'nother story/post! ;-)

Love and Loss (at the same damn time)!

I had never given it much thought in the past, whether or not I agreed with the notion that 'It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all' but, for this post and situation, I have to say it's true....and here's why...........

Due to mental health reasons, I took a much-needed leave of absence from work, earlier this year. I had been doing my best to hold it together (mentally & emotionally), following the death of my baby brother, in addition to the stress and strains of daily life and work environment. However, being a Mom, grandmom, caretaking granddaughter and 'saint-like' supervisor (according to my coworkers who bear witness to what I endure on the job) took its toll on me and the threads that held me together for so long eventually unraveled. I had, what I believed to have been, a small-scale 'breakdown.' I say, 'breakdown' instead of simply a bad day because, I've had days where I felt upset, moody, sad, mad and plain ole fed-up but I was able to get over/through it by taking a walk, having a talk or going on an extended bathroom break. On that day, it was different.

Baby bro was on my mind (as he is every single day) and I saw a pic of him on FB that brought tears to my eyes (as usual). I felt the emotion welling up in me and before I could stand up, tears began to fall. Ok....that was fine. This happens at least once a week, since my brother passed away. I went into the bathroom, cried my eyes out (to the dismay of a coworker who was in the stall next to me), pulled myself together (or so I thought) and returned to my desk. As soon as I sat down, the tears and emotion came rushing back, up and out and I could not stop it. I let out a low scream? squeal? and I cried and cried and cried and cried. I could barely catch my breath. My supervisor and other employees came rushing to my side and eventually, I did calm down enough to finish my work day. But I knew this time, ish was serious, so I made an appointment to see my doctor ASAP. Knowing my history and family dynamic, my doctor agreed that I needed to take a break from work and family. Although I couldn't find a suitable way to break away from my family, I started my 30 day leave from work a few days after seeing my doctor.

I refer to that period of time as 'The Darkness.' In the beginning, I did little more than lay on the couch, watch TV, eat, browse internet and play a word game on my phone.  Less than 2 weeks into my leave, during one of the games I played with a male childhood friend of mine (who I will refer to, from now on, as 'Che'), I received a message from him, out of the blue; a message that sparked a change in my life. Che sent me a message, expressing his interest in me, we began having conversations (through the game's chat feature) and eventually, exchanged phone numbers. He called me immediately and, from there, it was on. We talked on the phone for hours, every day, (without seeing each other) for a few weeks. Then, Che and I began spending a lot of time together; and of course, in the beginning, things were great. We had an instant & very strong romantic connection and both remarked that we felt like teenagers again. Like Mary J. sang, 'chemistry was crazy from the get-go, neither one of us knew whyyy....' . Showering me with compliments and filling my days with laughter and good conversation, Che had shed beautiful light upon my 'darkness' and I felt like I couldn't be happier with anyone else. My family and friends remarked on how happy I seemed and how great I looked. I was often told that I was 'glowing'.....and that's exactly how I felt. Having Che in my life not only brought me happiness but my strength and resolve were replenished. I felt better, I looked better and I wanted to be better.....with him.  I really thought I (was finally) found (by) 'The One.' I returned to work, a renewed and refreshed woman....mentally/emotionally and physically (I had also lost about 10lbs. during my 'break.'). I was on Cloud Nine.

But, things between me and Che changed....(seemingly) suddenly and pretty drastically. Without going into detail, I started to see and experience things that were not good (and that I knew I couldn't tolerate for long)). When I saw the first red flag, I ignored it with the justification that there was no way God would bring someone into my life who made me feel so wonderful then take him away from me, justlikethat. But, more red flags popped up....a small one here.....a big one there....a peek of one back there....one laying on its side over there....yet, I continued to play blind. Until an incident occured where I could no longer deny the obvious and had to face the fact that Che was not 'the one' for me. It took another month for me to turn my denial and disappointment into acceptance. I could no longer ignore the fact that Che's time in my life was coming to an end and that I really needed to move on. I also needed to forgive myself for going against my instincts and making choices I shouldn't have made. Even so, I have no regrets nor hard feelings. Today, I am stronger, wiser, better and (still) happy and I'm not so sure I'd be in this space if not for my experience with Che. As the saying goes, some people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I realize what Che's reason was and I'm good with that. Lesson learned. I can still see the sunshine through the rain and I do believe it was better for me to have (been) loved and lost (by) Che than to have never (been)loved (by) him at all.

I'm Baaacccckkkk (again)!

It has been 10 months since my last post....WOW. I've had plenty to write about since August 8, 2012....and I thought about posting many times....but, for some reason, I just haven't been able (willing?) to collect my thoughts, feelings & opinions and share them. As I type, I have no idea what I will talk about in this post. Really, I just wanted to take a peek at the blog and refresh my memory of what I had last written. Once I started reading, I couldn't stop at just one post. I kept reading and slowly but surely, an energy rose up in me that made me realize....THIS is what makes me feel (good, sad, refreshed, renewed, redundant, alive...and much more)....this is what I need to do more often.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me. Depending on my mood & experience, spontaneously, a poem will flow through me or I'll get bursts of short stories, whispers of book titles, streams of novel ideas (as in book, not new....well, new too but, you get what I mean)...and I feel relief....a  release. Just like the flow of energy.....ideas come to me and almost as quickly, they go. I need to devote more time to documenting these things as often as they occur. I know I've missed out on the next, Oprah's Book Club pick great american novel simply because I felt too busy....lazy....tired....defeated to put pen to paper (or finger to tablet). However, when I do jot down my poetry, stories, thoughts, etc, I find that I am 'in my zone.' I feel more like 'me.'

I've been doing that a great deal lately, too.....feeling (more like) myself. Alot has happened in my life, since my last post: I helped send my nephew (who I refer to as my sonneph) to college, I turned 40 and celebrated in a big way with some of the most special people in my life, I fell into (and victoriously got up out of) a deep depression, I let go of an old (depressing) 'love' and (was) found (by) a new love....then lost that love (*huge sigh*), began then quickly quit (but still had to pay for) a great semi-personal training program (*wtf Bfly?!*), dropped a size (but not really that much more weight....go figure), moved (well, directed the move....haha) my daughter and grandiva into their own place.....and so much more. Most importantly, during the past 10 months....especially, within the past 4 months....I found peace within. I am more loving towards myself, I smile more and I can say that I am genuinely generally a happy person.

I am ready to get busy in what I refer to as my 'second act' or 'showtime phase' of life. Ready to make (more) significant life changes and experience more joy, love and fulfillment than ever before. And I am ready to share more of me and my journey (with you, my readership), on a regular basis. Please check back soon....or better yet, subscribe to get automatic update notifications....for love, laughter and life inspiring posts.  Thanks for stopping by!

Much Love,
BFly

PROGRESS REPORT #2

If you've been Keeping Up With BFly (which is not hard to do, since my posts have been few and far between), you know that I've been battling the bulge and telling all my business  documenting my progress, or lack thereof.  Since my last progress report, I've had to deal with some heartbreaking and life-shattering events, including the death of my beloved baby brother. After my brother's death, I stopped going to the gym and I ceased following the Weight Watchers program. I just didn't have the energy nor the desire to participate in much. However, I did keep in mind that I am on a journey to change my lifestyle and in life, tragedies happen, changes occur and courses abruptly change without warning. So, I constantly reminded myself, I must be able to navigate those things and not be thrown too far off my path. So, while there were definitely times I turned to food for comfort, I had some good days and some not-that-bad days. Despite me not following a rigid exercise/eating regimen, I'm glad to report that I have not gained weight as a result. In fact, in my last report, I was looking forward to getting out of the 220s and, guess what?  I DID IT!  I am now 219 lbs.

I recently started working out again and actually enjoyed the kickboxing class I took last night. It was tough, being one of the few big girls in the room, but it only made me want to work harder and keep going. I was sweating, feeling the burn and even had to skip while they jumped take it down a notch a few times but it only let me know that I wasn't just going through the motions, but actually putting in work. My body and mind are getting stronger; that, coupled with the recognition I get about my changing look (I get at least one compliment a day), inspires me to continue working hard and making the changes I need for a healthier, slimmer body.

Now all I need is a savings account set up for me to shop from when I reach my goal size/weight....do I have any sponsors???

LOVE or HATE?

There’s been a lot of talk about our golden girl, Olympic gold medal-winning gymnast, Gabby Douglas, who, at just 16 years old, not only led the U.S. women to Olympic gold in gymnastics but she has also landed magazine and cereal box covers. So why are people – black people, mainly – talking about Gabby’s unkempt hair instead of her achievements? Some would argue that ‘that’s our problem now’, we are always focused on the ‘wrong’ things. We would rather talk about hair and other superficial matters than important stuff like, a young black girl accomplishing her dream of becoming an Olympian instead of somebody’s baby momma or the fact that dedication and hard work paid off in Olympian gold for Gabby not celebrity-inspired gold bought by a drug-dealing boyfriend or the fact that Gabby is more concerned with keeping her body fit and healthy in order to perfect her gymnastic moves and not ‘drop, stop and poppin’ moves. While I agree that sometimes, we (black people) do get caught up in appearances, material things and glitz & glamour, we're not the only ones (hey, fellow Americans!) and I think there’s another perspective to this hairstory.
First of all, we are taught, from an early age, that one must put forth their best appearance as first impressions are critical and appearance does matter. A person who is neatly dressed and coiffed will have the edge over someone who isn’t. A person who is fashionably dressed is received better than, say, a plain jane. Not that any of that has a darn thing to do with the skill it takes to become an Olympian, but I’m just saying (our obsession with appearance didn't just come out of nowhere). Secondly, I am a woman and mother of a daughter. Throughout my life, if ever I had some place to go (or not), my mother kept my hair done. If there was a special occasion or an extra-special destination I was going to (say, London for the Olympics as an Olympian), my hair would be extra-tight. Not extra tight in a painful way but extra tight in a way that every hair would be perfectly in place and shining like the sun. I was taught that you should always try to put your best face forward and when out in public, you are representing not only yourself but your family, too. So, when people started saying, ‘Why wasn’t Gabby’s hair done?!’ I thought it came more from a familial, loving and protective place than a place of misplaced focus, unordered priorities or hateration.

I’m not gonna lie. When I saw her on the Olympic floor, I said, ‘Now why is her hair like that?!’ This was while beaming with pride from seeing a black teenaged girl doing her thing on the Olympic floor, instead of somebody’s club floor. I know nothing about the Olympics, their schedule, if/who was responsible for getting Gabby’s hair done – maybe she missed her appointment, maybe the stylist didn’t show up – but what I do know is that, in her most glorious moment, she should’ve been coiffed to perfection – just like all the other girls were. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say ‘all’ because I haven’t actually seen them all but all the ones I did see had their damn hair done. I’m not suggesting she should’ve had a long, wavy weave, 40 inch ponytail or bone straight tresses blowing in the wind. But I do know that the ‘do she was sporting could’ve been done much better than it was. A little bit of gel and a few – okay, maybe more than a few – jewel-adorned bobby pins could’ve turned that ‘who didn’t do it’ into a pretty, perfectly pinned pony. Hopefully, instead of taking the complaints as just a bunch of grumbling black folk, Gabby and her parents/team will take something positive from the backlash and put more effort into the golden girl’s future appearances. In the meantime, we are proud of you, you done great and we look forward to you doing, being and looking even greater. Keep going for the gold GABBY! We do love you!