Well I read a lot, so I thought I might share some series

Hey all,

I read a lot. I mean a lot, a lot. I average 3 books a day and 15-21 books a week. Seriously. I've been a reader since I was a kid, and yes I do fit the bookworm stereotype (but I like to think that I am a cool nerd). I thought I might share some of the series that I have read and will continue to read as they are released. Though I love Black authors, I do also read paranormal romances (vamps, weres, ghouls, and fae, and otherworldly creatures) and historical romances (British nobility and the old west), and I thought I might share. Below you will find a list of some authors and series that you can read by visiting your local library or snagging them from your local bookstore. No, I rarely lend my books, and only those who share books in return, so you have to get your own. I will only do a few, and post more authors later! There are links to their websites through their names, so check them out!

J. R. Ward
This lady writes a series that I have read and currently waiting on the release of the next book on 03/29/11 called the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Trust me, these aren't your average sparkly vamps (Sorry to my Twilight fans out there, because after all, I do enjoy the movies). My favorites vamps in the series are Vishous and Zsadist, (I freaking love them) and all the vamps stories are positively action packed, lust and love filled, and contains humor and danger. In short, I love it!

She also writes the Fallen Angel series, which is also distantly connected to the BDB, and I love that series as well.

Christine Feehan
She writes four series that I absolutely love in paranormals. Yes one is about Vamps who are called the Carpathians, another is about Were-Jaguars, one is about super government soliders called the Ghosthunters, and the final one is about magical sisters called the Drakes. I highly recommend you read them. The Carpathians series has A LOT of books, so you should get started soon! I would go into detail about them, but all you have to do is google the authors to find out more!

Lora Leigh
This lady writes about ultra sexy Were-creatures who are called the Breeds, and uber sexy soldiers who are renegades called the Elite-OPS, and as well as the sexually adventurous Nauti Boys and their friends and families. If you are looking for a steamy read, look no further than this diva!

Gena Showalter
A friend of mine introduced me to this author, and I have to say, she writes the most wonderful of paranormal books! She has several series (and I am into mostly all of them). Lords of the Underworld, Alien Huntress Series, the Atlantis Series, and the Intertwined Series are all wonderful reads! I suggest you buy them all!

Larissa Ione
Now, I am only aware of one series by this author, and I must say, if I am posting this, it is well worth the read. It's called the Demonica Series, and I suggest you read all of them!


That is it for now, and I will share more authors with you guys later (hopefully tomorrow or Monday).

Peace and Blessings
Bumble

Merry Christmas Baby!

I would first and foremost like to say Merry Christmas to all, and I hope you are enjoying your holiday. May God continue to bless you and yours.

My sister cooked today, and the meal was awesome. We are doing the traditional thing and listening to old music, and she's dipped to spend time with her other family.

Now for the original reason for posting.

I am posting to remind people of the other blog, which I neglected for a year, which can be found by clicking here. It was the first time I'd updated in almost a year (I know serious neglect, I should go to jail for blog abuse, lol). Read it if you wish, I will most definitely try and post more frequently, on both, but there are no promises, because after all there are books to read and sleep to be had.

I have been working my new job for about two months, but only have three days in the actual system, and a lot of questions are rolling around in my mind, but I'm sure I will make it or find another job. But I will post about that later.


Merry Christmas!
Peace and Blessings
Bumble

Be Black or Be White, No More Shades of Gray

I'm struggling at the moment. I'm trying to understand. God made me a music lover, but recently, I've been questioning whether or not Christians should listen to secular music. I'm struggling so hard. There are people who believe that you can, and people who believe that you can't. I don't know anymore. I know I believe in Christ, but I don't know if I am a Christian anymore. I talk to God, I get no response. As much as I believe that I am a Christian, I want to be able to walk in the spirit, and have open communication with God. But I am failing to do so. I believe I am opening myself up to God, but I must be doing something wrong. Like all people, I don't believe that I'm a bad person. But I don't know if something is wrong with me. I'm just struggling to find me and God. Anybody out there know how that feels?

So I'm Writing

Currently, I'm writing two stories (although I am working on one more than the other), one is a paranormal romance (or the romance of the other world i.e. vamps, werecreatures, people/cyborgs/humanoids from the future, etc), and a Christian fiction novel. Yes, I realize that these two are on complete opposites of the spectrum (well they are far apart, but not necessarily complete opposites), but I happen to enjoy writing both. One of the stories kinda cuts me to the quick, so I'm trying to prepare myself as I write.

Hopefully, I will get this job soon. A job with benefits would do me a lot of good. Seriously. I haven't had a dental cleaning since I was in the 10th grade....7 years ago. Before then, I'd never had one. It's amazing what you take for granted, after all, who wants to go see a dentist besides me?

That's it for now,

Peace and Blessings,
Bumble

It has been a while

So I am back! A few updates: First, I am a grad student in an Ethnomusicology program. What is Ethnomusicology? Glad you asked! First, in short, it is the anthropology of music. What that means is, ethnomusicologists study music, culture, and is contents. I have completely put aside medical school ambitions, as it made me more than unhappy. I would be lying if I said that I didn't want to be a medical doctor, but it just isn't for me, at this time. Eventually, if God permits, it may happen. At the moment, however, I am currently focusing on being the best ethnomusicology grad student I can possibly be.

Still trying to find a professional career, however, because even grad students have bills. And for those of us who botched our undergrad career, we have to work harder to support ourselves. I know I can manage it. After all, if I can work 4 part-time jobs, and still manage to graduate from a university, one professional job and grad school is possible.

Working on me. Learning to understand just who Bea is. After 23 years, it's appalling how much that I don't know about her, and she changes for the better everyday, so it makes a little bit harder to find out exactly who she is. But it's okay though. She's isn't lost, she's just waiting on her time to shine!

Well, that is pretty much it. I will post as soon as something more interesting happens in my life besides discovering books. Until then,

Peace and Blessings,

Bumble.

Repost

This is an older post from my other blog that I neglected...

There are days like today when I question my moral fiber. My threads, at best, are frayed and discolored. Sometimes, they are transient and unconnected. Rarely, are those threads completely collective and definite. But how often is it that we examine ourselves? Is it only when the presence of alcohol is clouding our mind? Or is it when we are wounded by life? How often do we examine ourselves microscopically?

Fiber, more than the dietary supplement we need daily to survive—it is essentially, what makes us tick—who we are. Fiber is the difference between a thief and a judge—realistically, only one thread separates them.

One thread can make the difference between Jordan and unknown, MJJ and nobody. What separates us is how we bind our threads. So when the threads become frayed—cut them off. It sounds much easier than it is—cutting off damaged pieces of yourself is often painful; they are apart of you—but it is essential step in the process called growth.

That's it for now.

Peace and Blessings
BUMBLE!!!

Forgotten Lessons from Hymns

Remember when you were a child what was the very first hymn you learned?

When I was a child, it was This Little Light of Mine. Unconsciously, I learned a very important lesson that day that would not remember until 15 years later....That's right...today, as a 23 year old, this important lesson just dawned on me as I was thinking about my future (hopefully I will be able to reveal that tidbit later).

What is that lesson? Think on the lyrics: 'This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine/ This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine/This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine/ let it shine, let it shine, let it shine/Everywhere I go....

Got it yet? Well have no fear, just patience, it will be revealed soon.

There is a familiar quote that everyone knows, maybe not word for word, but enough to know the severity of it's meaning:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, georgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually who are we not to be? You are the child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Marianne Williamson.

Today, I realized we were given this tool for our own very souls. I was thinking about the importance of spirituals and hymns today, actually worrying that we are losing the meanings and lessons that they taught. We were taught at an early age "This Little Light of Mine" for a reason. It was a contract; it was a proclamation to that we would be the best people that we can be. Furthermore, it was a declaration that we recognized that we each have gifts, even if we did not know what those gifts were. How often do we think on that contract? You signed it. Yes you did. I know I did, because after I learned it, I wouldn't stop singing it. Even when I physically stopped singing it, my mind and soul kept singing that song.

Think about your contract. Are the terms met in full? Are they still being negotiated? Or has it come up null and void?

Think about other hymns that you have learned. One that comes to mind is "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" 'What a Friend we have in Jesus/ all our sins and griefs to bear!/What a privilege to carry/ everything to God in prayer!/O what peace we often forfeit/O what needless grief we bear/All because we do not carry/everything to God in prayer.'

There was a lesson in this as well--we might have ignored it, and might even feel a bit silly when we recognize that lesson there. We carry things that we need not because God is our refuge and our strong tower, and we should give it all to him, but do we? (Go ahead and shake your head no, you know that you've carried things that you shouldn't have because you were too stubborn to give it to God.) And if you aren't waving your hand in testimony at this point, I am waving my own hand at this one...

Peace and Blessings,

Bumble.

Magnolias Pt. 1

I originally wrote this in 2009.

I believe that it's appropriate to post now because of something I saw posted about me on Twitter.

I am bitter, becoming more and more callous, more and more masculine, while attempting to hold to on to my femininity. I’ve have become sir instead of ma’am because I look like my daddy and don’t possess a feminine voice. Deep inside, I wish that I was beautiful, but being who I am, it’s not possible, and the fact that possess a deep voice and my daddy’s face doesn’t help much. I want to dress like a girl, but I can’t afford it. Hell, have you seen the price of jeans in Lane Bryant? And to listen to other females say, well can’t you shop somewhere else?

No, the clothes don’t fit. Would you rather my behind be out too?

Well you could at least stop buying boy clothes, that’s why they think you are a man.

Well, boy clothes are cheaper, and what do you want me to wear a muumuu? Really? fuel the fire?

And contrary to those who are thinking well maybe you should just push yourself away from the table, believe it or not I’ve starved myself, tried sports, and darn near killed myself with the every pill imaginable, even though evidence before you looks to the contrary.

Up until I was twenty, I prayed every night that I would fit in, that I wouldn’t be this big, praying that the Lord would hear my cries and take pity on me, because I didn’t know what else to do.
Walking around, praying that nobody noticed the moving house that was traveling around to the places that they were. Even though both prayers were impossible, I continued them.

Lord, please, if you love one ounce of me, please let me be able to walk past people without them staring or hearing them go 'Damn, what they hell has she been eating, other people?'
And Lord, please, I don’t know what else to do, can you please just take some of this off me?

When that didn’t work, I resorted to trying to drown myself, and when that didn’t work, the day before my college graduation at 22, I sat with my stepfather’s pistol and contemplated suicide, almost pulled the trigger, but because we lived in a hotel, the housekeeper saved my life, and to this day, she still doesn’t know it.

I figured death was a simple alternative to the obvious stares and whispers and gawking.

Hell my life was tough enough without people judging me every second of the day.

Now, today, see I fancy myself like a magnolia—the seed that produces the flower that blooms isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever saw, in fact, it’s quite hideous. But what comes out of it is pure and represents the beauty of God—even though the shell is that great, but still it grows into a beautiful flower even though what it comes from doesn’t look like much.

Naw, I am not over all my hang ups, but darnit, since I can’t change anything, I will have fun with it.

When people call me sir, I won’t correct them, instead, I’ll sashay away from them and let them form their own thoughts,

When people point and whisper, I will hold my head high, and hope that they can see me walking, instead of trying to hide.

Who was I kidding tiptoeing around areas and trying to hide like no one would notice me? And since I am hard to miss, I’ll go out of my way and make sure people notice me so that they can bask in my glow, or when I recognize them from previous gawking encounters, stare and them and help them to understand how uncomfortable they made me, and them maybe, we can stop the discrimination of people’s lives….hell do you think I jumped up and decided one day that I wanted to be as big as I am?

Magnolias, Pt. 2

Magnolias Part 2
For Tia, Jovon, Stephanie, Tomika, Jihan, and Shantal

We stood and watched, as our family’s hopes and dreams rested heavily on our shoulders,

We bared burdens so great that even we didn’t fathom the affect it would have on us

We had to go to college.

See for some of y’all, this isn’t anything great—it’s something you do after high school, no need to worry about your future, because somehow it’s going to all work out

While we struggled and worked two and three jobs just to feed ourselves, waking up early, going to sleep late at night—really no time to study, but somehow through the grace of God, making decent enough grades—not the grades we are capable of, but they ones that show that we are actually smarter than most, because we are making these grades off of pure talent, because like I said we don’t have time to study

We began to wonder why on earth did he choose us?

We watched and listened as rich kids complained about the quality of education that they were receiving or how their mom and dad didn’t get them the car they wanted

Meanwhile, me and my crew were struggling for gas, just so that we could make it to class—we couldn’t afford to live on campus, and couldn’t afford to life off campus, and homelessness wasn’t an option, so we moved into apartments we couldn’t afford, because we have to have a place to lay our heads right?

Some days we entered class so tired, we could barely hold our heads up, yet we managed to participate in lecture—even though our stomachs were growling from hunger.

Struggling for food was an understatement. For some of us, there were times that we couldn’t even afford a pack of Ramen noodles because that bill, that has to be paid, is due

For others of us, familial obligations often interfered with what we were trying to accomplish—for some family included the ones they’d birthed, for others it was the family they were born into

For the rest of us, some combination…funny, some of the same people who we thought we encouraging us, secretly hoped we’d fail, so when we called out for help, the ignored our call and left us hanging, only to find that they would soon need us more than we needed them

Our destinies were chosen for us—we had to be better than those who came before us, because future generations depended on us to break the curses that lied on each of our individual families, even though they’d fed us to the wolves with no tools, we had to come up with something, from nothing

Hope. One simple world that launched each of us into cataclysmic shock—reaching for what was just out of reach for the others that came before us

Reality. Hope leads to faith. But faith without works is dead, and we damn near killed ourselves for your and our dreams.

Questioning Destiny-Yet Again

How often do we stop and think about how a simple action can change our lives? I was reading a book, and it reminded me, once again, how something microscopic can result in a change so large that we can't discover it's origins.

It's one of the most humbling thoughts I've ever had...

Every time I think of destiny, I'm reminded of this image--Dropping a rock in a pond.

Destiny is of our own choosing. The complex thing is, for Christians, we have to live and recognize that even though we have destiny, God's will overrides our destiny.

Confused? How do you think I feel?

What if there is a question that goes unasked that could change the world?

What if there is an action that is not followed?

Am I a defeatist? I'm just examining my mind.

There are times when I am completely aware that my choice of action (there is no such thing as non action, because if you chose not to act, you are actively not acting) will affect the rest of my life, but what of those times that seem so minor to us?

That is all for now,

Peace and Blessings
Bumble

Old Poem

I wrote this for a class, Advanced poetry. I learned that I wasn't as talented as I thought I was, because it was extremely difficult for me to retain form. I suspect it's because I either am a rebel or I suck.

But here it is:

Arctic Queen

Cold as ice—frozen for eternity—caught in a land of despair,
I am lost in emotion, senseless, a deadened quaking occurs—
I’m shattered like glass. Weighted with jaded memories of you
bound to you — my soul tied to you by a rope of ceaseless love.

Where am I? How did I get here? How much time has passed?
Icicles hang where my heart used to be. It pumps ice fire.
Someone take a torch to my heart and sear it like steak.
Set a blaze inside my veins, pump, and clog my core. Make

Sure it’s hot enough to unthaw my heart— make my blood boil.
Troubles burden my mind—insanity arises like heat in July.
It triggers my body to quiver, vibrate, thunder, then explode—
black snowflakes swim in a blue current—my arteries die.

The next breath is ragged as a rusted piece of broken steel.
Severed from the world, eternally, with no ability to feel.

Excerpt From Controlling Destiny

I've just started writing this. I knew it was meant to be, because it came directly from my soul--and some boredom. Well anyway, here it is. Tell me what you think.

Her body was tone from the hell she put it through. She worked hard to fight the fat that once plagued her body. She had managed to lose 150 of the pounds that used to harass her body. It wasn’t enough. She fought daily to fight the remaining 50 she would have to lose. The doctors told her she should be 180 pounds to be healthy, but the last 50 were hell to melt off. She would give her right arm for some pistachio ice cream, but then she would feel guilty and add another hour to her already intense work out. Never again would she be known as a big girl. He loved that about you. She suppressed the thought by working hard. He nearly destroyed her; he took her heart, put it into a meat grinder, and laughed at the ground meat that once loved him faithfully. He destroyed the hopeless romantic, and left a cold, heartless witch. Twenty more minutes left. She punished her body for her thought of him.

After the workout, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and drank slow. After she finished, she headed toward the shower. Her body ached with satisfaction as she walked toward her room. She removed her workout clothes, folded them, and placed them in her dirty clothes bin. Her room was pristine; she kept it tidy, because it was one of the things she could control in her life. There wasn’t a spec of dust to be found anywhere, yet she new she would begin to clean the room again when she got out of the shower. She walked to her linen closet, removed a towel and two washcloths, a white one for her face and a brown one for her body. She walked over to the full-length mirror and inspected her body, as she always did right before the shower. She mentally picked the places that she needed to work on, as she made a list of exercises that she would need to focus on to make them better. She walked toward the shower; she turned on the hot water, full blast, and added a little cold water. As the steam rose, she felt relief. The shower was her space. It was one space where she and God could connect. The water seemingly melted her pains and troubles away as she talked with God. She lathered the soap and began to wash her body, and as the soap slithered off her body, the pains and troubles she felt in her body, mind, and soul washed off as the soap gathered around the drain.

Her body was completely at peace. She waited. She never left the shower until she had her talk with God. Hello daughter. Are you ready to face what you are running from? It was the beginning of every conversation she had with God. She knew she couldn’t make excuses, and what was the point of lying to the one who knew the count of every hair on your head? She knew she didn’t know herself that well. So she answered honestly. No. I don’t think I will ever be ready Lord. I keep telling myself that I am turning over to you, but I can’t let go. And I’m tired of lying to myself. I keep holding on, and I can’t figure out why. Lord, I don’t want to hurt anymore, but I don’t want to face the brunt of what I feel either. So I deny that I feel anything. And I attempt to self-control it by taking it out on my body. But I know that you already know that. I’m trying to control what I can’t control. I’m insane right? She sighed. Here in the shower, she could be weak. She could cry, she could scream, and she could be whatever she needed to be. She waited for her response. She continued to wash meticulously. She needed to make sure she got every spec of dirt to be found on her body. You know, it’s not that hard to turn it over to me. Why is it so hard for you to just let go and let me take care of it? She sighed again. How many times had she asked herself that same question? Furthermore, he already knew that, and he knew that she knew. And he knew the answer to the question that she didn’t. I wish I knew. I don’t know how to let go. She paused. She did a mental checklist—what parts hadn’t she washed well? She couldn’t recall. She began again. Daughter, you would do well to remember that you can only heal when you turn it over to me. After you finish washing, reread Proverbs 3:5-6. She sighed again. It wasn’t a disrespectful sigh, but a knowing sigh. Everyday for the past ten years, those scriptures had been the end of their conversation. She had memorized it. But apparently didn’t understand it.

Peace and Blessings,

Bumble

More Random Thoughts

One thing I am constantly learning--genius is relative to a person's experiences to life. To a hustler, a genius is a person who can make the most money, in the quickest time, and without consequence. To a photographer, genius is seeing beauty through a lens, and being able to catch that genius at the perfect time, in the perfect light. To a musician, genius can be one chord that sticks out in the music or even a phrasing performed; a complicated melody or a simple riff. Point is, calling something or someone genius is relative--it's usually not universally accepted concept.

Most people think of genius as something that is accomplished, but rarely is it seen as the gift you were born with. On one level, I believe that each person is born with a gift that makes him or her a genius in their own right. However, we don't see it as such. We may even admit that the person is gifted, but we choose not to see it as genius that it is. Can we do what the "gifted" person does?--certainly. Can we do it as well?--probably not.

How can this feeling Be Real?

I am trying so hard to push past this hollow feeling...give it all up and trust in God. I've been reading for the past two days non stop because I don't want to think about my situation. I have always been a take charge kinda gal, and it is one of the hardest thing I've ever done.

The problem is, the moment I start reading, my situation pops in my mind. I get scared, and I feel like the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. I begin to hurt so badly.

Sometimes I have a hard time believing that a God who loves me could put me through this kind of pain.

I don't understand what I did to deserve this.

I am aware that uncomfortable situations are a significant part of growth, but it seems to me that my life has been a rollercoaster of pain, sorrow, fear, tension, self-doubt, self-pity, self-loathing, and no self confidence with few fleeting moments of joy.

I do my best to hold on to those moments, the moments where God showed up and showed out in a mighty way.

But its hard to keep those moments in mind when life continuously refuses to offer you solace.

I am so tired.

I mean beyond tired.

I'm struggling more and more to hold on.

I'm trying so hard to trust him.

Peace and Blessings
Bumble.

ONE OF THEM DAYS....

...Where nothing seems to work out right. I swear, I want to slap everybody! And the worst part of it all is that I'm still in the midst of my trial. I am so flustered right now, all I can do is pray that I don't do anything stupid.

I'm hurting so bad right now. I feel like if I drove off a cliff, I would be in less pain. I'm hurting so bad right now that it hurts to cry. You know how hard it is to be in pain and can't cry? And to think there are people in this world going through much worse than I. I can't understand how they deal with it outside of God.

Right now, dark thoughts are rising in my mind, and I am so close to acting them out, it's not even funny. I am completely broken now. Nothing much else I can do but get it over with.

I'm so ready give up. I'm tired of hurting. Tired of pain. Tired of people treating me like excrement. I'm so sick of living I don't know what to do....

Well I got some ideas, but they aren't good.

I'm being honest.

Peace and Blessings,

Bumble.

Hi: I'm Bumble, and I May Be...

...a hot mess. Today when I was sitting in Chemistry, the strangest thing occurred. My "emotions" went uber crazy.

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I admit to being celibate. But it has been one of the greatest struggles of my Christian walk.

Lord knows, I do not want to go to hell because I couldn't control my urges.

I'm thinking about seeing a counselor, because prayer hasn't been very effective for me, at least in this area... and each time, I feel that I am a step closer than I was to falling back into old habits--the "friends" routine.

Don't get it twisted. I wasn't promiscous having multiple random "friends".

But something is very wrong with me.

I'm honestly thinking of talking to a counselor....

WHAT DO I DO?

So I haven't Drawn Anything In A While

Little known fact about me: I used to take art. But at my school, at least when I moved to Columbia, SC, you had to choose one elective (e.g. Band, Orchestra, Art, etc), because there was no room in anyone's schedule to take more than one. I don't profess to be a Van Gogh or anything, but I did wish to share my drawing. I'm not saying that it's the best thing since sliced bread or anything, just felt like being a kid for a moment. After this I am going to go study genetics, but sometimes you need to escape.


Hope you Enjoy this pic as much as I enjoyed drawing it.
Peace and Blessings
Bumble

Last Repost (I Swear)

From Bumble, Busy, Honey, Killer--It's Still Just Bea

Scribe's Spell

I scribble sections of my soul
on pieces of plain paper--
I entertain eagerly--
Legibly, learning, and lapping
Lovers of language lavishly and liquidly.
Surely scribes script sums sized
plus--more pleasingly plump than this
easily words exonerate the enchanted
linguists, leaving them
longing for lingual lullabies.

By Beatrice Pate bka BUMBLE!!!

Yet Again, Another Repost

From Bumble, Busy, Honey, Killer--It's Still Just Bea

Insomniac Thoughts

It's official. I am an insomniac. I don't sleep regularly anymore.

So I decided to write. Well type, but you get the gist.

Lately, I have been thinking about a lot of things.

But mostly, not being productive... Well not personal productivity, or things that would benefit me.

What I want to accomplish is bigger than me. It's become who I am. Accomplishment. The process of going after what you plan and want in life.

Outside of my career goals, however, I have done little planning.

Most girls my age know when, where, and why they want to get married. They know how many kids they want. What style house. How everyone will dress. What activities they will participate in...

I'm still hung up on the marriage part.

As a Christian, I believe that you are only supposed to get married once. If you divorce, you cause you and your partner to commit adultery--whether or not you get remarried.

I do enough of my own sinning to know that I can't be responsible for someone else's sins, especially, if they were the ones who decided that they wanted to walk out. Furthermore, with the divorce rate being 50%, I know I want to know who my partner is completely before taking that step.

Marriage is a vow to God. And it is better for you not to make that vow if you know you might not keep it. God, in the bible, compares it to a dog licking up its own vomit.

That is not to say that people who are divorced aren't Christians. That also isn't to say that all people who are married are Christian.

There are some instances that require divorce (abuse, incest, etc) but even then, the sin is still committed. But for me, the sin is outweighed by the content of the actions...

To say that I am confused my marriage is an understatement. (I didn't want to make this blog all about marriage, but that is where my fingers are taking me.) Love, apparently, is confusing enough, but marriage---is another whole issue.

I believe that there is one Adam for every Eve.

But what if something happens to that Adam? (i.e. Meets someone else of another background, becomes homosexual, becomes asexual, becomes non sexual (like a priest)) Then what?

What if life beats Adam down so badly that he doesn't want to search for his Eve? Where does that leave Eve?

Then there is the whole "the man is the head of household " thing. Honestly, I wouldn't have a problem with that, if Black men weren't so afraid of Black women. If a man were willing to step up to the plate, show me that he deserves to be followed, that he is a man of God, and loves me genuinely, I will move mountains and moon to ensure that his dreams and mine would come true.

I would spend my days aiding him to make him the best man he wants to be. I would spend my nights, being the best lover for him that I could be. I would soothe all of his wounds with my tears, and demolish those who cause him to hurt. I would take care of him, if he made sure my every need was supplied (as much as humanly possible).

If he loved me and never cheated, I would give him all of me, with the exception of what belongs to God--(my soul), but even a piece of that would be his, because if he is truly a Christian, that will be something that him and God would share, because he would reserve it for God too. And if he took the time to love me the way that God instructed him (As Christ loved the church), I would sacrifice me for him and treat him like the King he is.

But in today's world, Black men feel that that is asking too much. I weep for our former kings.

http://livesteez.com/livestyle/read/90/The-Blessing-The-Apparent-Curse-Of-a-Strong-Black-Woman


That article pretty much sums it up.
Here is another interesting one, that is also related (distantly) to this blog:

http://www.thenewblackmagazine.com/view.aspx?index=50

Thanks to @Shesouldeep {on Twitter, you should follow her} for providing them on June 8th..

I am at the point where I believe that Adam has given up on looking for me. I don't go looking for him. (See Proverbs 18:22)

One of my best friend's mom says that that shouldn't stop me from making myself available, because after all, God isn't going to drop him in the living room...

Well I think that is it for know. I know that I could type forever about this. It's an ongoing mental debate.

That's it for now.

Peace and Blessings
BUMBLE!!!

Another Repost

Yet another post from Bumble, Busy, Honey, Killer--It's Still Just Bea, before it became the undesirable...

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Thoughts from Bumble (Redundant right?)

There are days like today when I question my moral fiber. My threads, at best, are frayed and discolored. Sometimes, they are transient and unconnected. Rarely, are those threads completely collective and definite. But how often is it that we examine ourselves? Is it only when the presence of alcohol is clouding our mind? Or is it when we are wounded by life? How often do we examine ourselves microscopically?

Fiber, more than the dietary supplement we need daily to survive—it is essentially, what makes us tick—who we are. Fiber is the difference between a thief and a judge—realistically, only one thread separates them.

One thread can make the difference between Jordan and unknown, MJJ and nobody. What separates us is how we bind our threads. So when the threads become frayed—cut them off. It sounds much easier than it is—cutting off damaged pieces of yourself is often painful; they are apart of you—but it is essential step in the process called growth.

That's it for now.

Peace and Blessings
BUMBLE!!!

Repost From Other Blog

I decided to repost this blog entry, because I thought it was a pretty good one from my other blog that I turned into a music blog that I don't really keep up with Bumble, Busy, Honey, Killer--It's Still Just Bea. I thought it was rather good.....

Monday, August 10, 2009

Sometimes Vacations Aren't What They Seem

Hello all,

It has been a while since I have suffered from insomnia. Oddly enough, it decided to resurface when I am supposed to be relaxing...That's right on vacation. Maybe it's because I am uberexcited to see one of my best friends that I haven't seen in a year.

I have been thinking more than usual, and I haven't had time to type because summer classes are extremely consuming. But they will erupt in an extremely long post. Hope that you can go the distance :).

I believe that there are times in our lives when we question our very existence. We go through and question our purpose, our next breath, even our next blink. Through these methods do we determine who we are going to be?

How do we decide who we are going to be?

Some say they always knew that they wanted to be such and such, but do they ever question how or why?

I decided that who I wanted to be was a doctor. I have made many errors on this journey, but I have decided that I would give it my all to make this dream become a reality, but what if my all isn't good enough? Do I make a plan B?

All my life, I have worried. Worried that I wasn't liked, or that I am not pretty enough, or not smart enough, or that I lack what it takes to make my dreams come true. I worry every second of every day, like life isn't already hard enough. I am a type A person.

When I was in the eighth grade, I read Langston Hughes most famous poem Dream Deferred. That simple poem questions what happens to those dreams that we do not pursue. But we all know what happens to those of us who lack the ability to be fit enough to survive.

Life is the cruelest teacher. The most metaphorically used statement about life. Probably because it is the undisputed truth. Life takes no prisoners, doesn't discriminate, and whips everyone. Life beats you if you are right and beats you if you are wrong. Point blank period.

Examine a broken person. Look around bus stops and near the local homeless shelters. Look when you are at a stop light. On your job. Hell look in your church. Every where there are broken people. You will know them. They are distinctive. They may live, but the piece of their soul that is missing because they couldn't survive life's pitfalls, calls out to your soul if you are searching for it. It will change you.

Recently, because of my car accident, I have been examining the souls of the broken. I looked and saw something that burned my soul. To watch someone live without a piece of themselves is utter torture--so it is almost unimaginable that these people continue carry one. If they laid down and died, I couldn't blame them. All I wanted to do is help them, give them a piece of whatever they lost back. But even if I could, the scars that they suffered and bare would still be deeper that the deepest depth I could ever create a simile for. But how is it possible to help a person find a piece of themselves that they've lost to living?

In that instance, I believe that only God could heal those wounds. Watching the broken, I saw something that disturbed me so greatly. I saw something extremely familiar....pain. I cringed when I saw through these people's eyes and saw their nakedness. The worst part of it all--I worried if they saw mine. The shell of who I am and who I am becoming. I cringed at the thought that I could end up in that kind of pain. I couldn't live with myself if I failed to become who I wanted to become. I realize God is who he is, and his will trumps mine. But God wouldn't allow me to make those dreams if there weren't anyway that I could accomplish them. That would be cruel of Him.

I couldn't walk around broken like that. Life can be a doosey sometimes. Pains can erupt any time, place, or date. But living constantly in that kind of pain would be unbearable.

So, faith, as my pastor said one sermon, is an action word. The time has come for me to proverbially put my money where my mouth is and put up or shut up.

I guess you know what that means.

Peace and Blessings
BUMBLE!!!

How do you know when to give up a dream?

Okay. I am at USC Aiken and these science classes are killing me.


Well not literally, but there is something not quite right here.

I went to my Genetics Lab, thinking that it was time to determine the sex of the flies that we are supposed to genetically be crossing so that we can understand Mendelian Genetics better.

So, I put the flies to sleep and put them under the microscope.

Then I saw it.

One of the females was getting ready to lay eggs.

I was a little disturbed, so I chose another one. I knew then I couldn't use that batch because they had been "tampered" with. But that was another female who was also getting ready to lay eggs.

As I sat there, I felt the bile rise, and it hit the back of my throat. I was utterly horrified at what I saw.

I don't particularly care for bugs, especially when they've been magnified as many times as it takes to actually see the characteristics to determine the sex of the bug, Drosophila melanogaster (If you've never seen one google image search).

The emotion I remember feeling is fear.

I've been performing horribly on the quizzes in the class. But everyone is.

But I'm not everyone.

I remember thinking, how am I to do my lab if I get sick at the thought of sexing the flies?

I don't feel like I am cut out for this, but I know it is fear. How am I to overcome this fear of failure, so that I get out of my way so that I don't fail?

Seriously?

I know I should study harder. Without question. That's what I am going to do. And get used to the abdomen images, by forcing the "sickness" away.


Peace and Blessings
Bumble

Awesome Roomates

Yesterday, the day was awful. I was insulted by my situation, and a group of gentlemen (using that term very lightly) outside of a local Wal-mart, here in Aiken.

I relapsed into old habits and grabbed the biggest bottle of wine that I could afford, and left the store, not before being harassed again. I was already feeling so low, because my situation seems to be getting worse and not better, and then I was insulted because I am not as feminine as other girls.

I came home, downed the bottle of wine and went to sleep.

Then this morning, I woke up and went about my routine--I needed to wash clothes, and I got up and got started (around elevenish).

And I wasn't feeling any better than the night before.

But my roommate got up while I was in the shower, and decided that she would cook after she got of the phone.

And she made me breakfast.

That was the nicest thing someone has done for me this week, and in this new month.

Sometimes, it's the little things that keep you holding on.


Peace and Blessings
Bumble!!!

I'm in Aiken

It has been seriously a while since I've posted, but because everything has worked out, I have been super busy.

There are still some kinks, but they will be worked out. Honestly, I haven't been this happy for a long time. I am starting to see a trend: Away from family=happy Bea.

I smile everyday...for no reason. I handle problems differently. All because I know that where I am and the steps that I am taking are blessed. What a wonderful feeling!

Well anyway. Got to get to the lab to print!

Peace and Blessings
Bumble!!!