Life Matters: Who said--"Money doesn't buy Happiness"?

Life Matters: Who said--"Money doesn't buy Happiness"?: We hear it all the time--"Money does not buy happiness." I beg to differ...sorry for the cliche', but sometimes it's just necessary. Any way...

Who said--"Money doesn't buy Happiness"?

We hear it all the time--"Money does not buy happiness." I beg to differ...sorry for the cliche', but sometimes it's just necessary. Any way, I am so tired of not having enough money from my paycheck to spend on other things besides rent, food, essential toiletries, and food. Oh, I mentioned that already. Nevertheless, I am willing to bet that if I had more money--enough to purchase large amounts of food, pay-off my automobile insurance, and the monthly lease --and be able to afford, at minimum, a week-long vacation, then I'd be happy.

I would bet, too, that if I had money to spend the way I prefer, I'd treat my friends to dinners, and movie tickets, too. I'd splurge on gifts, and share my income with more of my family members, and panhandlers, too. I'd enjoy helping my friends pay for the things they need and want in order to have fun.

It's gotten to the point where so many of my friends are struggling to do the same things I am struggling to do.

And because we are all having to spend our money just to live day-to-day, and not completely comfortably either, we seldom get to spend time together.

So, I beg to differ--money does buy happiness. It is the resource that brings us exciting fun stuffed adventures, and nearly complete bliss.         

A Sidekick

I did it. For the first time this year I rode my bicycle. Because both tires were totally flat, there was no way I could ride without first putting air in the tires. So there I was, zipping along in my car, holding onto the front tire with my trunk ajar.  Miraculously, I was able to stuff about ¾ of the bike inside.

But when I got to the gas station, I struggled trying to remove the bike from my tiny trunk. So, instead, I pulled my car close enough to the air pump. After  a few quick blast of air, I was all set to go on my journey. That's when I started thinking. 

I thought about the rides I took with my pals during my youth. We used to ride bikes around our West Philadelphia neighborhood, and partly through Cobbs Creek Park almost every weekend, and sometimes after class when the weather was warm. Back then riding was totally about friendship. We didn’t care or even consider the fact that we were exercising and becoming physically fit. We rode because we liked to spend time together. And despite not talking, we were connecting. Becoming fit was sort of a sidekick, one that never crossed my mind.   

This time around, I hopped on the seat of my bike and began peddling up the hill toward Belmont Avenue all alone, except for random strangers. Nevertheless, I am feeling good.

I rode up and down the hills in and around Fairmount Park long enough not only to push my heart rate up, but to enjoy the beautiful summer-like weather. I puffed, but kept a steady pace, peddling up every hill except one.  

Life Matters: Weight Management

Life Matters: Weight Management: Every now and then someone will ask me, “How do you stay so slim?” I tell them, it’s not always easy, but I’ve learned to eat less than I ...

Venting Matters

My boyfriend claims he's listening to me even though I claim he isn't. More often than we like to be, we are apart. But when I get to the point when I feel completely isolated from him, I tell him so.

Well, according to him--he expects it, and accepts it, too.  He says he knows and expects that it is time for me to complain. And then realizing that he expects me to complain, I become annoyed. I am annoyed because by saying he expects and accepts it implies that I am simply venting. I am not. But I am becoming frustrated.

That's when the sound of my voice changes, I enunciate every single word, and I omit contractions altogether. Satisfied, having made myself perfectly clear, I continue to voice my concerns. Again, this is not venting.  Instead, I am not simply expressing my concerns just for the sake of being listened to. No, I am instead expressing my discontent in a manner suitable for discussion with the intent of gaining a resolution. In other words, I want results--I want what I am complaining about to end.

I am not venting because I know that venting is complaining about something that will not and cannot change. Venting, you see, is a way to stir up the necessary ingredients to gain sympathy.

Venting is an outlet--a way to let others, anyone who will listen, usually a girlfriend--someone who will hear your complaints because they have them too.

Weight Management II

Hearing, "I'm carrying more weight." to offer a reason why one can't, and/or won't keep up is simply, unreasonable. I mean, really?

By now, everyone is weight conscious. But apparently, not everyone understands weight management. I, like many of the people I know, have access to many modes of media.  And because I do, I use it to learn many things. One is weight management. Thankfully we live in a nation where media reports on various opportunities to lose excess weight and how to control weight. 

I have learned that eating more fruits, and vegetables than red meat is one way of controlling weight. While another way is to move. Exercise.  And by the way, by exercise, I mean whatever it takes to get up from the sofa, or chair.

In Philadelphia we have a fairly decent transportation system. And even though it could benefit from lots and lots, and lots of improvement, I take it five days a week. It gets me to work, period. Any way, I get off and walk about six blocks to my work site, and then I walk up a mere two flights to my cubicle. That's just about all the exercise I get. Nonetheless, it's an opportunity for me to move. It's my chance to help regulate and/or stabilize my weight. I could, instead, take two buses and get off at a bus stop that is right in front of my building; and then take the elevator the rest of the way. I don't.

And that is why I maybe "lighter" than some of my friends. They're the ones who have excuses why they don't walk and why they don't take the stairs. Oh, I forgot to mention, I take the stairs instead of the elevator to my six-floor apartment just about four days during the week. And sometimes, I'm carrying more weight--groceries. You see it's yet another opportunity to move--Okay, I admit it: I'm an opportunist--unlike many of my friends, I guess.

But like most of them, I don't have an income that allows for discretionary spending. So, I cannot afford to pay health club fees. But I can afford to walk. The issue becomes how to walk, and even when.

There is a stroll and then there is a walk. I walk briskly to rev up my heart rate; it's best when trying to lose weight and/or manage weight. I know this because I read a lot.

By now, nearly everyone knows that walking is one of, if not, the best ways to manage weight. It may not be the quickest route, but it is the most simplest...sans those bound to a wheelchair. Since I walk often, I like to spice up my walk, so every now and then I ask a friend to come along. Well, that doesn't always give me the boost  I expect.

Just a few hours ago, I called a walking buddy. She agreed to come along with me to the store. 
While walking at a moderately brisk pace, I turn my head awaiting a reply during our conversation. I find that she is more than a few paces behind, which explains why, there was no reply. I call to her and say, Hey whatcha doin' back there? To my dismay, she responded, "I have more weight than you."

Still walking, I turned completely around to respond. I wanted to say, Yes, I am "lighter" than you are and the reason I am is very likely because I walk more than you and, therefore, faster than you. Instead, I tried to convey to her that walking often, and briskly helps me to management my weight.

Even though I have plans to resume a more active lifestyle, I currently eat more healthily in addition to walking. And if you're reading this and thinking: It's genetics. Well, that's not altogether true.

Relaxed Hair

I vaguely remember when I decided to grow out, and then cut off the remainder of my chemically relaxed hair. But I can certainly remember why I went back to using a relaxer.

The first time I began relaxing my hair was so long ago I can’t remember how I began relaxing my mother’s hair too. Nevertheless, I spent about an hour several times each year to retouch my kinky roots making my hair silky and smooth, as well as aesthetically appealing when I got it wet. In other words, my relaxed hair retained a style I preferred, and it is easier to maintain than when my hair  was in its natural state.

Non relaxed hair required lots of care--I spent hours each day trying to keep it from tangling, and becoming matted.  Furthermore, my hair style rarely lasted through the day. And, even though some believe natural hair is manageable in hot, and humid weather, it is not. My twist out became puffy and styless. And even when I paid a stylist to straighten my hair without using a chemical, the pressed hair style deteriorated in a day or two causing me much angst and more.

My lifestyle of fitness changed the day I quit relaxing my hair. I stopped swimming, playing tennis, and cycling too. Because sweating is a natural part of execise, immediate hair care is required.

With a relaxer, it’s simply washing, drying, and then styling my hair—easily accomplished in an hour, or less, and without having to pay and wait for an appointment with a hair stylist.