The Sum of One

I can’t believe that this is already the third month in the New Year, 2015.  And as I was reading over some of my previous entries, something caught my attention.  I noticed that I wrote a total of ZERO entries for 2014.  I was a little shocked about this, and I was a whole lot of DISAPPOINTED in myself for letting a whole year pass me by without me writing in my blog.  I mean, how could this be?  How could I remain silent for a year?  Surely, there was something to write about.  Right???

This blog was started so my voice could be heard.  My blog was an extension of me.  It was a way for me to share my thoughts, my feelings, and my opinions in a constructive way.  Hell, it was in the top ten of my Bucket List. So, why would I stop something that was good for me?  Something that I wanted to do for so long?  The answer(s) is simple; my passion for my blog wore off.  My inspiration got lost, and I couldn’t find it.  I just could not make myself write.  And trying to force it was like trying to get my husband to listen to me—it’s just not happening.

So what changed, you ask.  Very good question.  Rereading some of my previous blog entries, and talking with my second mom helped me realize that—even if I reach one person, my voice is being heard.  I’m not going to lie.  I was concerned about the number of followers my blog had.  Honestly, who wouldn’t be?  But, it never was about the numbers.  It was about helping me and getting back to what I love to do—write.

My blog isn’t just a blog.  It’s a reflection of me.  It’s therapeutic for me.  It’s the Sum of Me.  And you know what, I’m totally okay with that.  Just like Rupaul said, “if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell can you love somebody else.”

Just Saying,

Niesey

I Don't Know Nothing 'Bout Birthing No Babies

While talking amongst my sister-girlfriends, at work, the other day….wait, let me rephrase that….While having a very insightful discussion with my fellow colleagues, the other day, the subject “Pregnancy” was brought up (trust me on this one, it was very work related but that’s a whole ‘nother story to be told at a later date). 

As you may know, I am 39 years young. I will be 40 in April.  She (meaning me) DOES NOT have any children unless you count the furry four-legged kind.  And in that case, I have three beautiful girls.  When asked when I’m going to have kids, my answer is always “between not today and never-thirty.”  I mean, who wants to be 50 and living the golden years (when the kiddos should be out of the house and not living in the basement) birthing babies?  Those are the years you are supposed to enjoy, in an EMPTY house, with your significant other instead of chasing behind some crumb snatchers.  Picture me, 50, chasing behind kids.  NOT GONNA HAPPEN CAPTAIN.

Don’t get me wrong.  I hate it when people make the assumption that I have some type of deep dislike for kids. That is not the case at all.  I love kids.  I just love them a little bit more when I can get them sugar wasted, and then send them home.  Honestly, I thought I would have at least one child by now.  Apparently, that wasn’t in the plans.  I kept pushing my age limit from 30 to 35 to 38, and now that I’m almost 40, getting pregnant and having kids are the furthest things on my mind right now.  I’ve gotten to the point where I like my space, my time.  Why would I want to give that up?  Ain’t nobody got time for that…..or do I?

I know children are God’s greatest gift He can give to a woman.  They truly are blessings to behold.  And it’s an honor to be a mother—to hold that title (notice I said MOTHER and not EGG DONOR—there is a difference).  I take my hat off and hold my BIG glass of wine up to all the mothers out there being mothers.  Lord knows not every woman is qualified for the job.  Just because a woman/girl can get knocked up, does not automatically qualify her as a mother.  Yes, I said it.  And yes, you can quote me on that one.

Do you want to know the whole truth of the matter?  I AM TERRIFIED OF BECOMING A MOTHER.  You read it right.  The very thought of it scares me to the bones.  To be responsible for this little life and raise him/her to be a productive member of society (and pray that you are not raising the next Dexter), just blows my mind.  What if I screw up? What if I am the worst parent ever? And most of all-- what if I pass some sort of mental defect to my child? You see, Depression is a part of me, and it is friends with some members of my family.  I don’t want to pass that burden down to my children.  I don’t want to be the cause of my child’s mental anguish.  AND THAT’S WHAT TERRIFIES ME THE MOST. So, I ask myself “Niesey, do you really want to take that chance?”  Ninety-five percent of me says “no”.  BUT it’s the five percent that is speaking the loudest.

So, what’s a girl to do? If it is God’s will to bless me with a child, then so be it. I know I won’t go through it by myself.  I have my sister-girlfriends and my family that will support me 100%.  And most of all, I have my husband.  And since we are working on rebuilding our marriage (in more ways than one), I know he will be there for me cheering me on…..So, who knows what tomorrow holds and maybe—just maybe—I will be holding a beautiful, healthy bundle of joy (this time, one of the two-legged kind)….

Just Saying,

Niesey 

Nothing, but my BAY BAY

And now for that feel good story…….

I can’t believe that my little Booby Bear, my nephew, will be two years old tomorrow.  Or, as that age is called, “the terrible twos.”   It seems like it was just yesterday, I was rocking him in my arms, watching him as he was falling asleep. Time surely does fly…….And yes, I did call him “Booby Bear” in case you were wondering if that was a typo or something.  I know-- I will cross that bridge when he is twenty and he has a complex behind me calling him that…..but for now, he will always be my little “Booby Bear.” I also have pet names for my nieces. So let me take a minute and give a shout out to my—“Tina Beana” and my—“Courtney Smortney aka Courtney Wee.”

I have to admit, when my brother told me he was going to be a daddy, I was very negative.  I mean, he just barely met this girl and then WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA’AM---she’s pregnant.  So yes, I did tell him to make sure the baby was his because females can be trifling (especially when they see a good guy trying to take care of his business).  I also told him, “I will believe it when I see it.”-----I know, I was a Grade A B**** (rhymes with witch).  And I can admit that.  The Sister in me didn’t want my brother to get hurt.  And the Woman in me was like “BEEP-- BEEP---BACK AWAY FROM THE OKEY DOKE—DON’T FALL FOR IT!!!!”  What can I say; SKEPTICAL is my middle name…..

Well, as you figured out, my brother was the baby daddy.  He posted pictures of my nephew on his Facebook page, and yes that baby had “Becknell” written all over him…And what could have been a sad ending, turned out to be a joyous one because all was  forgiven and I fell head over heels in love with my nephew….

He makes a bad mood go away when he looks at me with those big brown eyes and smiles at me or gives me “sugars”.  He makes my heart melt.  He makes me feel all “mushy” inside.  As you can tell, I love this little boy with all my heart and soul.  And I will do anything in my power to protect him…. (However, that feeling will go away once he hits puberty because then I probably will want to choke him.) 

So here’s to wishing him a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY with many more to come.  And I thank God for blessing me with such a crazy little nephew AND crazy grown nieces—plus one little niece that I’m still waiting to meet (Hi James!!!)…Auntie loves YOU ALL!!!

Just Saying,

Niesey

Where Were You?

Twelve years ago.  It seems as if it was just yesterday.  Twelve years ago, the world as we knew it—ENDED…

The morning of September 11, 2001 was an ordinary one for me.  I had just relocated to Houston, TX back in June, and I was actively searching for full time employment.  I was in the middle of a real life horror film, called HOUSTON TRAFFIC, on my way to an appointment I had with one of the numerous employment agencies Houston has to offer.  I was listening to one of my favorite radio stations, singing along like my name was Whitney Houston, when the music was interrupted by an emergency news broadcast.  I heard the announcer say that we were under attack by terrorists.  I heard him go on to say that the North and South towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed.  I admit that my mind drifted for a moment because I could not wrap my head around what was being said.  I thought that it was some sick joke that was being played over the radio (for it wouldn’t be the first time creating mass hysteria).  Then I thought, “What kind of sicko would joke about something so serious?”  Really?  And then, it dawned on me that it wasn’t a joke……

I made it to my destination in awe.  I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how to feel.  So many things were going through my mind.  The lady that I was scheduled to meet with had friends in New York that worked in that area (if not in the World Trade Center itself).  We all sat in silence listening to the news wondering what else would happen…..My appointment was cancelled, and truthfully, I don’t know how I made it back to my car because I was still in shock.  Once I made it back home, I was glued to the television.  I think I went through all kinds of emotions.  At first, I was in shock.  Then, I was sad and hurt.  Finally, I was angry.  I was angry because I couldn’t believe that these so called terrorists had the audacity to do that mess here, in the United States of America.  I was angry because these “men” were cowards dying for a cause that they probably didn’t understand.  I was angry for all the people who lost loved ones because of some “stupid sh**.”  And I was angry because I didn’t understand how the powers that be let that happen on our soil.   I learned a cruel lesson that day—WE ARE NOT IMMUNE.

Twelve years later, and it still haunts every one of us.  I often wonder what the passengers of the planes felt knowing they were going to die.  I wonder are their souls truly at rest because of the violent way they left this Earth.  I wonder how the surviving members of all of their families are coping.  Have they gotten some type of peace? Have their minds and hearts been comforted?  And I wonder how anyone can justify that acts of suicide missions are right when the causalities are people that have nothing to do with “the cause.”   

September 11, 2001, the world ended as we knew it.  That day left a scar on all of us that is still healing.  My heart goes out to all the victims of this senseless crime.  And for the terrorists, NO—the heroes were not the ones that succeeded in their mission—the HEROES were those that sat on that plane and lost their lives so WE can live—so WE can be better people.

Twelve years ago, and I remember it like it happened yesterday….Where were you????

Just Saying,

Niesey

Liar, Liar--Pants on Fire!!!

*Inspired by the event(s) that took place (at work) last week…..

You lie

As if it was TRUTH defined

To hide what you did or didn’t do

Using lies as alibis

Even the Devil would be ashamed of you.

You lie

To hide the ugliness within your heart

Using lies as if they were HOLY

How they easily roll off your tongue

Causing confusion and illusions

Tearing people apart.

You lie

Because you can

Fools only question your authenticity

Thinking you are “The Man”

I thought TRUTH was supposed to set you free

Not you

Your lies have become your Prison

And TRUTH has become your Enemy.  (An Angela D Becknell orignal poem)
          

I would be lying if I sat here and said that I never told a lie.  No, I’m not perfect and neither is the rest of the world.  We all have told a lie whether it was to protect someone, hide something from someone, or just because.  After all, we are only human and yes, we all fall down.  It is not my job to judge anyone, and I’m not trying to say that I’m a saint.  I am just relating a story that happened to me last week, and yes, it still bothers me.  It bothers me because I don’t go around making a habit out of lying.  And for someone to just take that away from me, in a blink of an eye, kind of pisses me off (okay, it pisses me off a lot)…..especially when I know I’m telling the TRUTH.

As you can guess, I was called a liar.  I wasn’t called that name directly.  More or less, it was implied.  You know the story—some he said/she said s**t.  BUT in this case, she (meaning me) was not the one telling a lie.  I had no reason to lie.  There was nothing to gain (or lose) by lying.  However, the “powers that be” had something to lose by telling the TRUTH.  So by calling me a liar, they had the false security of thinking that TRUTH would not prevail.  They thought that they could get away with it.   THEY WERE SO WRONG……It just escalated into a big mess, that in the end, went in my favor.

Point is, why tell a lie when the TRUTH will be revealed?  In the end, the one telling the lie looks stupid and ridiculous.  And what does it say about that person when the Top Boss doesn’t even believe the bull?  All I can do is shake my head while holding my head up high.  You didn’t hurt me boo.  After all, you just ended up hurting yourself.  So, keep on walking by and sticking to your lie(s).  And I will continue laughing at you and doing me.  And I will keep standing hand in hand with the TRUTH while you forget what the TRUTH looks like….SMOOCHES!!!!!

Just Saying,

Niesey

You Are My Obsession: A Red Light Warning

I really wanted to start this month off with a “feel good” story, BUT my Mind led me in another direction.  So, for now, that entry will be postponed (sorry my little Booby Bear.)….

The song “A Woman’s Worth,” by Alicia Keyes, kept playing over and over in my head.  I found myself humming the tune at work, in my car, and at home.  I had to ask myself, “Self, what are you trying to tell me?”  For those who would find it hard to believe that I talk to myself, I’m sorry to disappoint you.  Yes, I talk to myself often.  It’s the answers I get that I have to question from time to time….I’m straying from my thoughts, so let me get back on track…..My inner voice was telling me to talk about self-worth.  However, I had to disagree with that voice because I have talked about that in a previous blog.  We finally came to an agreement that led me to what this entry is about…..OBSESSION……

Before I go any further, let’s break down the word obsession:

1.       Obsess—to preoccupy the mind excessively.

2.       Obsession—compulsive, often anxious preoccupation with a fixed idea or unwanted emotion.

3.       Obsessive—excessive in nature or degree.  ( Webster’s II New College Dictionary)

There are many types of obsession (like with things, places, clothes…..) but the one that I am talking about is obsession with a particular person in or after a relationship.  See, when two people first meet, they hang out and get to know one another.  If things go well, they soon end up being a couple.  At first everything seems so sweet and innocent.  You know, things like calling to make sure you made it to your destination okay or calling to see what you are doing and to make sure you are okay—wanting to spend every minute with you—surprising you by showing up to your house unannounced with flowers or just showing up because he/she missed you…I can go on and on.  You think it’s cute because he/she just loves and cares about you so much, BUT your friends start seeing the whole picture because you are blinded by rose colored glasses…

When these “sweet” little gestures start turning into every day, every minute, or every hour---ummmm there MIGHT be something deeper going on.  When he/she tells you “I’m only happy when I’m with you.” Or “I feel incomplete without you.” Or “I just love you so much that I need to know where you are at, who you are with, and when you are coming home.”---RUN LIKE THE WIND….This person has problems because NO ONE should be the MAIN source of another person’s happiness.  You shouldn’t want someone who is incomplete without you.  I mean, who really wants an incomplete person? Not She, Me, Her (yes, another reference to Tamar Braxton.)….

Calling you ten times a day and then texting you 50 texts, is NOT NORMAL behavior.  Calling your friends or family members because you FINALLY seen the light (or as I call it, the Flashing Red Lights and Red Flags flying) and you won’t answer your phone, is NOT NORMAL behavior….and do I have to mention again the showing up at your house unannounced???

I know that I’m trying to put a little humor into this, but it’s really not funny.  People like this are OBSESSED, and they can turn out to be very dangerous.  They turn into stalkers.  Showing up where you are or phone stalking you constantly.  They confuse being obsessed for being in love.  But, it’s not LOVE at all.  If you break it off with them, they are extremely jealous of whomever you spend your time with.  Every breath they breathe is YOU.  Every thought in their head, is about YOU.  AND THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT THIS IS CONSIDERED TO BE OKAY BEHAVIOR. 

We hear about it all the time, on the news, where the obsessed person turns around and murders the object of his/her fixation because if he/she can’t have that person, no one else will.  And it’s a sad shame that someone has to lose LIFE because someone else is “damaged.”  

So, this brings me back to the word WORTH.  By definition, it means:

1.       having monetary or material value

2.       to the fullest extent of one's value or ability

3.       the value of something measured by its qualities or by the esteem in which it is held heritage of

4.       moral or personal value (Merriam Webster Dictionary Online).

Relationships with obsessive behavior are a recipe for disaster.  And anyone who stays in these types of relationships or finds that they constantly fall for people that exhibit this type of behavior, to me, haven’t realized their WORTH.  Putting up with tacky behavior and riding on an emotional rollercoaster over and over again, is not my ideal of LOVE or being LOVED.  YOU ARE WORTH MORE THAN THAT…..I’m not only talking to the females out there; I’m also talking to the males.  If you know you are a QUEEN and you carry your head up high, your KING will find you.  If you know you are a KING and you carry your head up high, your QUEEN will find you.  Stop settling for the Jokester. Because if you don’t love yourself, how the HELL can you know if someone truly LOVES you?  Like I always say, “don’t fall for the okey doke.”  Make sure it’s REAL.  Make sure it’s TRUE AND GENUINE.  And know your WORTH.

Just Saying,

Niesey