The Realistic Resolutions For One Geeky Girl

Tis the New Year, and it is that fateful time in which we all try our best at vowing to make the changes that we failed to in the prior year. I would love to give you hopeful advice about the good you could do for yourself in the next coming year, but if I am completely honest, I am not exactly very good at keeping my own. So I shall lean towards realism and comedy, because that is what I do best. Here is my hopeful, but brutally honest New Year’s resolutions list. Enjoy!

Lose Weight

This will always be at the top of the list. Honestly, some years turn out better than others. What I won’t do is try crazy ass diets just to try to get down to an ideal size and make myself miserable by doing it. I am already miserable enough. No need to add on top of that. I am a stress eater, and until I figure out and solidify a better manner of control my stress relief, that weight isn’t going anywhere. What I have done is bought a yoga mat and a beginners training DVD. I am hoping that this will help me find a healthier manner in which to relax. Outside of the impending humiliation that I am no doubt about to punish myself with, I am hoping that my balance will at least improve. On a side and realistic note, I will probably have to go and speak with my neighbor who lives beneath me before I start. I do not need to have the poor man calling 911 thinking that I’ve died every time gravity wins and my fat ass falls over.

Manage Money Better

Could I manage my money better, probably, but I do a pretty damn decent job of it at the moment. I have really cut back on my overall spending in favor of keeping a roof over my head and food on the table. Damn, adulting. So while I shouldn’t throw a small amount of money that would no doubt be put towards better use for something else, I will probably end up buying that ticket to the Supernatural convention. I don’t go on vacations, so I don’t feel too bad about it. I have so much fun when I go. I will however be putting aside plane ticket money to try and take some visits back to the Midwest. I need to see the family and I refuse to miss out on another wedding that is important to me. Now I just have to fight the temptation of all the new damn Funko Pop! Figures that are coming out. I will endure.

Love Life

This is one that I feel I should really put a valiant effort into improving, but year after year, I still do what I want. I have chosen to believe that things will work out as they will, and until then, I have too much shit to achieve. I guess a big part of my lack of fear is knowing that the worse situation one will ever be in is alone. I handle that with bells on, so not such a big scare for me. Have I thought about toying with dating sites? Yeah, but it really isn’t for me. I am too much of a person reader, and the internet pretty much blinds me from that. I have toyed with the idea of doing speed dating with my friends, but due to the fact that I can be a pretty big A hole, it won’t be that wise. It would be pure comedy for my friends, but not for the poor bastards that get to meet me. It’s best to let things fall as they may.


Of course, I would love to quit everything and just write, but that isn’t guaranteed to bring in the money at the moment. This isn’t the time for me to skip off and say f@#* off to all. Nope, got bills, and they need to be paid. I am going to try and incorporate some freelance work into my life, so that I can subsidize the fun world of perks. That will probably help with the whole stress thing. On top of that I will continue to achieve status as an exemplary employee at the current job, and maybe try to grow there in the meantime. Anything from keeping me from having a part time job. It is Vegas, and who knows what kind of part time job I’d end up getting. Terrifying! I really, really enjoy sleep. It’s awesome! More hours would mean less of that and most likely more stress.

All in all, more money will allow for more geekdom, so that’s a bonus altogether.

Those are the basics, right? Is there anything I’m forgetting? Let me know what you are planning for this lovely year ahead of us. Thanks for hanging out, and I hope you all have a great 2015 ahead of you!

Computer Love part 2

To see the first part of this story click here.


Like I said, things were going superbly with Dax and I until I met his parents. A few things to know about me. I come from a blue collar family. My mother is a nurse, my father is a computer tech. At the time of this story, I was working two low level jobs, and getting ready to attend college. A few things to know about Dax. His family is affluent. We’re talking WASPy affluence. So imagine the surprise when said affluent WASPy members find out their little Dax is bringing home, not only a blue collar, undereducated small town girl, but she is brown to boot!

I am empathic. It is one of the reasons it is hard for me to be around a large group of people for an extended period of time. A lot of times I can feel what the people around me feel. When I met Dax’s parents, what I felt was not cool. His father was basically shooting off “What the hell is going on!?” vibes. I maintained my own and stuck it out, and got out of there as soon as I could. On the way home, I explained what I felt to Dax. He brushed me off saying it was fine, and that I was being silly.

A week later, he called to break up with me.

Before everyone boo/hisses about the phone call break up, please remember we live an hour apart. I wasn’t mad at the fact that he called to break up. I was mad that he let his father get into his head about me.

Dax stuttered and stumbled through his break up thoughts. They were mostly that we are different people (I would hope I wasn’t dating myself, that  would be super difficult…and kind of vain), that we were in different places in our lives (I was 23, he was 28.. he had financial and emotional support to go to school and do things in his life. I did not and was getting around to him late. He knew all of this WHEN WE MET), and the kicker was that his father thought I wasn’t very healthy (aka I was fat, and his dad did not approve)  When he got finished I spoke. I informed him that I thought I was dating him, not his father, and if he wanted to break up with me, that was fine. But they needed to be for his own reasons, and not some reasons his father drilled into his head. He got quiet and spoke softly on the phone “I don’t really want to break up.” That settled that. Truth be told, we should have probably broke up then and there. He was family oriented. Really family oriented. I already knew I didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with his family, as they had already let me know (through a proxy no less) how they felt about me. What can I say? I was Britney Spears in that moment (“My loneliness, is killing me.”)

Our relationship went on. for a while. He brought up hanging out with his parents again. He told me his mother was fine with us and it would be okay. I rolled my eyes and went along with it. His family had me over to dinner at one point. For some reason, bi-colored corn got brought up by me, his mother stated she thought I said “bi-colored porn.” At this point, I just wanted to go back home. To my hole, and die.

His mother sent me a hand written note to my house to invite me to Thanksgiving. My mom and I read the note together and looked at each other. “Who sends handwritten notes to a family affair? Are you getting engaged!?” my mother screamed at me. “No…LORD NO!” I responded. I kept looking at that note. I felt cynical. I felt like it was a trap.

While it wasn’t a trap, not a more awkward Thanksgiving was had.  I watched what I ate, lest it was said that I was eating too much, I was suspicious of the turkey, as I never saw the whole bird. They took it in another room, cut it up, and served it. Plus, I don’t think his mom cooked much, because she didn’t have a schedule, cooked the bird very first. By the time we ate, it was dry and ice cold. We stayed there the entire day. Long after his brothers left, we stayed. I began to notice some things. His father sort of ran the house with an iron fist. His mother wanted the gas fireplace on. His dad told her to “Don’t be stupid, we don’t have the instructions anymore, we will not be doing any fires.” She just said okay and went with it. Dax’s two brothers weren’t impressed. They were from his mother’s previous marriage, so Dax’s dad was their stepfather. and Dax was their half brother. They started telling me stories of how they would scare the shit out of him when they were kids. Dax’s mood just got darker and darker as they talked. He was bullied as a child and still had a hard time being the butt of anyone’s jokes.

I would like to say that things improved after this day. They didn’t. I started to notice things. Certain things he did, I  was embarassed about. The turning point of everything was one Memorial day. My family had a party and I lied to him and said my family was going out of town. Why did I lie? Because the party was being held at my uncle’s house that had a swimming pool. All of the kids would be in the pool, and I knew if I had invited him, he would be the lone adult in the pool, prompting my family to ask “what is wrong with him?”

The breakup wasn’t mutual, he broke up with me (again). While I was sad for a short while, I feel like part of myself was relieved. I didn’t have to deal with this anymore.

We have both moved on, years later he is married with a child and I am married. I am grateful for the experience of Dax. It made me realize what I wanted in a significant other more than anyone else I had ever dated. I also decided that at that point in my life, men were a distraction I couldn’t afford. I stopped dating when I went back to school. It got a little lonely, but it forced me to focus on myself, and the bettering of myself. It allowed me to make sure that I would never feel how Dax’s family made me feel. I knew back then I was a good person, but I didn’t realize my worth until someone else tried to set that for me.



Thirty and Nerdy

Just twelve days in for my thirtieth year, and my life has taken one of the most amazing, mind blowing turns I ever could have imagined. Not really, the most exciting thing I accomplished today was doing household chores. The magical transition into thirty didn’t change anything that I thought it would, and honestly, that’s really okay.

When I turned twenty-nine last year, I began to panic a bit looking at my life knowing that it was nowhere near where I had imagined it to be. Thirty to me was a milestone, a point in my life where things should have been figured out. I had started a list of what needed to be done, so that maybe the last six years have meant something. I needed to become completely independent and get my own place. I needed to get a car that wouldn’t constantly fall apart on me. I wanted to finally finish the first draft of the damn novel that I have been trying to write for the past three years. I also put “maybe start dating” on the list, but for those who know me very well know that dating has never really been a concern for me ever. I just thought that I was supposed to have some kind of headway in that department by thirty.

I didn’t get everything figured out in time for my birthday, but I did hit a few. I did manage my own place and had a reliable vehicle thrust upon my person regardless of want, but these really only happened in the last couple of months. The novel is still sitting in the early stages awaiting real time for me to commit to it. As for dating, not so much. When I woke up the day after my birthday, I realized that it all didn’t really matter. I am pretty happy in general with who I am and where I’m at. It is by no means perfect. I want to write full time, but since it doesn’t pay the bills yet, I have to work. The dating thing has never been something that I have felt the need for. I’ve always felt that if it happens then it will. In the meantime I have things to do.

Those I guess would be the things that people would probably point their finger at me for and try to call me a failure. I could get called out on those or my weight or even my nerd tendencies. As responsible as I strive to be and feel I am, I am a very much a kid at heart. I believe that it balances me. If I wasn’t I would probably not be any fun for anyone. The flip side of that coin is that I could be considered immature because I still watch cartoons or that I wear t-shirts with comic book characters on them. We as people need this kind of fun to balance out the responsibility. Being too serious and over worked is hard on a person’s system, and mindlessly indulging the inner child at all times doesn’t allow for any growth. Thus you need to find the balance.

My parents recently came to visit, and my mother wanted to take me out and get a few things for my apartment for Christmas. I told her that I wanted a doormat, a shelving unit, and a clock. Pretty practical, right. Well when we got to the clocks I choose a Star Wars clock that has the original Star Wars cover as the main canvas of the clock. My mother checked, as she always does, if I was sure that I wanted it, and I said yes. I didn’t want a boring clock. I wanted something that would make me smile when I looked at it. My mother may have made a different choice for herself, but she knows that this is how I work. With a slight shake of her head and an amused smile on her face the place the clock in the cart.

Thirty isn’t scary, nor is it really any different from any other month I’ve lived through this year. I didn’t have to throw out my Buffy DVD’s or sign up for an online dating site in order to immediately get married and have children. There is no specified plan for this particular age. I am still me and don’t foresee it changing anytime soon, and least of all for some silly number. I am still a nerd girl and damn proud of that. Thirty-one isn’t going to change that either. I will continue to plan on being me. I really should have never questioned it in the first place. I perceived an expectation from society, and it just doesn’t work for me. I have no business trying to force myself into a mold that I have long decided was not for me. You know what I bought to commemorate this momentous birthday? No fancy jewelry for this girl. No, I bought myself a photo op with Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki at the next Supernatural convention. How’s that for thirty and nerdy?

Les Miserables

I want you to close your eyes and imagine something. I want you to picture an awkward, overweight, black teenager, around 15/16 years old in 1997-98. Her hair is wild, broken off in some places, sticking out in others. Her clothes fit, but are the complete opposite of ‘Cool.” Her parents buy for her what they can, but plus sizes for teens are not what it is today.  Imagine her at school. She’s smart, but her grades are mediocre at best. She has friends, but she fits in nowhere. A lot of the Black girls in her classes are mean and vindictive. It will be another 5-6 years before she realizes that a lot of their mean and hateful words were from pure jealousy. In the meantime she is barely surviving school.
Her father is in an out of her life. Her mother is always either at school or at work, hardly any time for her. She is on her own.
This girl was me. I was so lost for so long. I had a deep-seated loneliness, and a craving to be accepted anywhere by anyone. Don’t get me wrong. I had morals, and convictions, and held steadfastly to them (read: I was terrified to have sex). But I was different. I saw things around me differently than other people. I still do.
From age 14 to age 18 I participated in a program called Upward Bound. The highlight was every summer; you got to spend 6 weeks on a college campus. The campus I was on was Indiana Wesleyan University. You spent time in classes that mimicked what you would be going into the next year. The core classes, Math, English, and Science were the main ones, but you also got to choose ‘electives’. One year I remember taking Spanish (it was the only foreign language they offered, I took French during the regular school year). We have some free time, which I spent on computers, in chat rooms, watching movies, hanging with friends.
Two years I was in the choir as my elective. I can’t remember what we did the first year, other than the song “Dancing in the Street.” The second summer I was in choir changed my life. It changed who I was as a person.
I’d listen to musicals before. Not much however. The only two musicals I knew before this were “Oklahoma” and “The Wiz.” Our instructor introduced us to this musical called “Les Miserables.”
“He stole bread and went to prison. He kept trying to escape so they added time to his sentence. Eventually he was in prison for 19 years. All for a loaf of stolen bread.” I giggled as she told us the story. Then, we listened to the songs we would be singing. For the first (and not the last) time in my life, a chill shot through my body. Every hair on my body stood on end. This man’s plight was my plight. I was in a prison for 4 years. 4 years of high school, of misery, of being different and ostracized for it.
Then Eponine’s “On My Own.” As I am now 30 years old, I realize that every girl sees herself as Eponine at one point in her life or another. But as those lyrics blasted from the CD player, it was as if she put my soul upon the altar for everyone to see. I was Eponine. She was me.
I ended up playing Eponine for our brief musical performance. I belted each of those words as if they were my last. I showed no fear, no anxiety, because this was me. This was who I am, and this musical allowed me to show that.
The summer ended, and I was back at school, but that musical still had a hold of me. I eventually purchased (from my meager savings) what I thought was the entire musical (It ended up being the abridged version) and listened to it CONSTANTLY. I knew every word, every inflection of every song.
It sounds silly, but knowing there were people out there, who felt like me, who felt the same way I did made my life a little easier. I may not have a place in Kokomo, but it was a big world out there, and there were people out there just like me. I shed my skin of insecurity, hopelessness, awkwardness, and became stronger. I stopped caring what people thought about me. I knew who I was, and nothing anyone said, or did was going to change that.
I may not have achieved greatness, but I have carved out an amazing life for myself. I have stayed true to who I am. It was a musical that helped me find out who I am. It also led me to music I would have never heard on my own (*snort* on my own).
I went and saw Les Miserables in the movie theater this past weekend. I am not sure what I expected. What I did not expect was to be transported back to that 16-year-old girl, discovering a completely different world for the first time.  I sobbed as everyone died (They were not kidding when someone said the name of it should be changed to “Everyone Dies: The Musical”). I felt the love of Cosette and Marius. I felt it all, and felt changed again.
I know this isn’t a hair or product entry. But I had all of this in my heart. I needed to share, to make you understand who I am, where I come from, and how I got here. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

Oh Whitney…



I wasn’t going to write about this. But after watching countless videos on Youtube today, and that hard sad ache I felt when I watched her mother be carried down the isle after her funeral, I feel like I must.

I was 10 years old when The Bodyguard came out. I had listened to Whitney Houston’s music before this. I have a memory of being twirled by my mother to ‘I wanna dance with somebody’. I remember trying so hard to belt out the notes just like her. The Bodyguard however, was one of the first tapes I owned that I listened to and enjoyed every single song. I had all the songs memorized, and made my own dance steps up to the songs (in the privacy of my room of course!).

Listening to her music and singing the songs, I believed one day that I could be just like Whitney. Growing up in a small town, and living on the side of town that was predominately white, she gave me an ideal to want to be. She was as dark as I was, with many of my features. You didn’t see that very often.

I missed watching the funeral today. I did see parts in recaps however. I smiled at the memories shared by Kevin Costner and tears ran unbidden down my cheeks for her mother and her family. I winced at Alicia Keys screaming at me.

Whitney Houston gave a fat awkward black girl hope. She showed me you didn’t have to be high yellow or have Caucasian features to make it in this world. You have your talent and your heart. That is all you really need. Some people will argue with me that it didn’t hurt the powerful family and friends she had behind her. No, it didn’t hurt. But you can’t tell me that she was carried by them. She let her voice do the talking.

Now, I don’t sing. Not in public anyway. I have a crippling anxiety when even thinking about singing in public. But thinking of Whitney in high school led me to try out for the choir. And I made it. She is one of many people who showed me a way to be the best person I could be. For that I will be forever grateful.

Good bye Whitney Houston. I hope you found the peace you never seemed to find here on this mortal coil. I hope you look down on this earth and know how much you were loved and treasured.

A change is gonna come.


As I sit here with fried looking hair, looking rode hard and put away wet, I have decided I need a change.

                              I googled ‘Fried Dyed and Laid to the Side’ This is what I got *Snort*

I work 40 hours a week. I come home and I work more. School work and housework never ends. It isn’t just me though. If I am working 40 hours, my husband is currently putting in 60 to 70 hours a week. A couple of days ago He didn’t get home from work until 9pm.

It is not just that though. Ever since I lost weight, I haven’t shopped for clothes I enjoy. I have work outfits that I have purchased for the sole purpose of work. They are okay looking, but they make me feel staid and just, ugh.

I am stuck in a rut. I don’t take care of myself like I should. I don’t do anything for me and my husband. We work, we come home, we pick up dinner, and we stare blankly at the TV for an hour or two before we get started on our bedroom rituals.

I’m frustrated and tired guys. I’m stuck in a rut. I was doing laundry this evening and realized I was stuck in a clothing rut as well. Let me give you the primary example I have. For about 10 years now I have bought one type of jean. I purchase the Lane Bryant Right Fit Jeans. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones that are folded up in the store. (Size 6 blue circle!). The quality has gone downhill over the years. I am not entirely sure they are real denim anymore. Plus they smell funny, no matter how many times you wash them.

Tomorrow I am making time for myself. Jeff is out of town for the weekend for work (boo), but I am going to make the most of it. I plan on doing a hot oil treatment on my hair, painting my nails, and just beautifying myself. I also plan on buying a pair of nice new jeans. I need to step out of the jean comfort zone.  I still have homework and I still have housework, but I need to focus on myself for just a little bit.


My questions to you: Have you pampered yourself recently? If not, why? Is it something you struggle with?

Social 46

So I told you in my last entry, that I had a bit of exciting news for you. I have been chosen as one of 46 people to represent Indianapolis and social media during the Super Bowl. It is a program called Social46. You can find most of us on twitter under #social46.
At first I was genuinely excited and nervous. As I get older I get shyer. By the time I am 40, more than likely I’ll be in a corner shaking. I was nervous because, even though I have talked to some of the people in the program on twitter, I’ve never actually met any of them. I get there and take my seat. I get kind of uneasy because I’ve just noticed something. Let me get the picture of the group so you can see:
Yeah.. Not really diverse is it?
Let me back up a little bit. Here are some quotes that can better tell you what the Social 46 is and what it is trying to accomplish:
The Social 46 is a group of 46 top influencers in Social Media selected by the Super Bowl Host Committee to promote Indianapolis and the Super Bowl through Social Media. Our group includes local celebrities social media leaders, bloggers members of the media, and other community leaders.

Our goal is to galvanize the Indy community and drive them toward social media as a way of keeping everyone involved with the Super Bowl connected. Those of us in Social 46 are serving as ambassadors to welcome people to Indianapolis and to share what Indy has to offer. We tweet with the hashtag #social46. Our hope is to make this the most talked about Super Bowl experience in history.

During our meeting, it was brought up that this is the most urban Super Bowl ever. I took a quick unofficial poll on my personal Facebook page because no one really responded on the Tale of Going Natural.  The comments and thoughts I got about it varied greatly:
My friends are nutcases, in case you couldn’t figure that out on your own accord.
Anyway, their thoughts on my page got me to thinking about myself, what I believe, what I think urban is.
Urban to me is a large diverse group of people located in an area.
I could get into details about the area they are located in, and the types of things that are around, but this is my bare bones definition of urban. There is hardly anything in this group that to me represents diversity, nor shows all of the neat ethnic backgrounds that we have here in Indianapolis.
I am initially from a small town here in Indiana. When I was a little girl, there were a total of three other black kids in my entire school. It was stressed over and over to me by my mother, my grandparents, and pretty much everyone else in my family, that I needed to doubly mind my p’s and q’s, because I am setting an example for everyone. I used to get angry. Why does it always have to be me? Why am I the one who always has to set an example for everyone else? As got older I realized the answer. Because you are the only one Leslie. You are the only reference on culture and race in that particular school. People generalize. That is just how a lot (not all) of people operate. Being the only person means that people are going to take your actions and generalize them for a whole group of people.
Now, from the picture, it looks as if I am the only minority. I’m not. I counted 3 other people, which still adds up to 8.6% (my math may be wrong though I do not think so) of the 46 people. 
With a percentage that small, some things may get overlooked about the Super Bowl and Indianapolis. Things that, maybe if you weren’t a minority, you wouldn’t know where to go (weave, ethnic groceries, ethnic hair care). So that will be my contribution to the social46. My goal is to bring as much diversity as one person can. I’ll be using my blog to accomplish this goal. I will also be reporting on the different events around the city. Stay tuned for what is probably going to be an interesting ride.

Best choices for us.

I am exhausted. If anyone ever told me that the holidays were an actual vacation, I think I would punch them.
Roughly a month ago I got a haircut. It was actually more of a trim. My hair grows quicker in the back than anywhere else, giving me a mullet type look. Not good.
It got me to thinking. When I was younger if you came at my hair with a pair of scissors, be it a trim or an actual cut, to correct broken off hair, I would be in tears. My hair took forever to grow, and all I ever wanted was long hair. When it was relaxed, it seemed as if I could never achieve that dream. The longest my hair ever really got was to my earlobe.
With my natural hair, no matter how bad I treat it, it grows. When I say I treat it bad, I mean I don’t tie it up every night like I am supposed to, I go longer than I should without a serious detangle, and I have hand-in-hair syndrome.
Ultimately I believe that natural hair was the best choice for myself. What about you? 
 Can you tell I am sick? I feel like crap. On my way to work.
What is the best choice you have made for  yourself?

What is going on?!

What a wild, crazy, insane past couple of weeks this has been people. I had a temp job, got hired at a permanent job (as permanent as employment can be nowadays), and school is running me ragged. I am so tired people. So very, very tired.

The great news is that I am learning tons. I am applying skills that I have learned in my studies. I miss being able to blog more, but I really like having all the little extras that my income affords us.

In hair news, my braids lasted two weeks I think. They were still holding up great, but I wasn’t. I was an itchy wreck. Plus, I forgot my rat-tailed comb one day while at my new job, and was sneaking off to the bathroom to scratch my hair in private. If you know me, this is kind of a big deal. I hate bathrooms. I hate going to the bathroom (as a side note of TMI, I am chronically constipated and I do nothing about it because I’d rather not poo) and I hate listening to people go to the bathroom. It gives me the willies. I am sitting in there scratching my head, when a lady comes in beside me and starts… I don’t even want to get into it. Needless to say, that was the final straw, and the braids had to come out.

Even after only two weeks of no manipulation of my hair, I saw remarkable improvement on how it felt and how it handled. This has made me switch up my regimen just a little bit. The way I figure, the less manipulation I have, the better my hair looks and feels.

My New Regimen

1. Saturday/Sunday: Co-wash hair, blot dry, detangle, and apply leave-in. Seal with Belle Butters shea butter mixture. 2 strand twist hair. 2. Monday-Friday: Untwist in the morning, fluff, and go. In the evening re-twist, adding more Belle Butters if needed. 3. Once a Month: Shampoo scalp

I really think this will work for me. What about you? What works for you?


Me at work in the bathroom. Not the toilet part though, just the sinks.

Where have you been!?

Hey guys!


So if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been gone for about a week. No entries, nothing. I’ve been posting periodically on Facebook and on Twitter but that is about it. Explanation? Well, my summer semester ended. It was the one before we go back to school for fall semester. I have about two weeks (only one at the time of writing this) before I jump back into school. Not to mention I have been kicking up the internship/job looking into high gear.

I decided to take a little break and use what little time I have to chill, and just.. be. Ever since the spring semester life has been so frantic for me. There are always deadlines and assignments due. Not to mention the housework and job hunting.

I am back though, and I am here. I have a review planned for this week as well. Here is to a new semester and a new lease on life!




Question of the day: What have you been up to? Are you super busy and overwhelmed?