I’ve come to love my hair, but it wasn’t always such a happy relationship. As a kid I hated my curls. As the token biracial kid in my white corn-fed town, I was keenly aware that no one else–besides my brother–looked like me. When you’re young, all you want to do is blend in. For me that meant long, straight, blonde hair. In other words, the complete opposite of my own.

My poor mother, bless her heart, tried to give me great hair. I remember sitting on the floor in front of her as she worked thick creams through my hair with the vain hope that it would be easier to manage in the morning. (It never was.) Just For Me, Queen Helene, hot oil treatments–I tried every lotion and potion sold in the “ethnic hair care” section at CVS. I’m still haunted by some pale green gloop that had the consistency of Vicks VapoRub. I tease my mom about her lack of beautician skills, but I love her even more for trying so much.

In fourth grade I got a horrid haircut that I kept until I started high school. Looking back, I have absolutely no idea why I kept it for so long when I hated it so much. A hair stylist–who will remain nameless–thought it would be a good idea to give my unruly hair layers. For four years I looked like the offspring of King Louis XIV and Al Yankovic. At school I was the butt of endless jokes. One time a kid put staples in my hair. Kids can be assholes.

Finally in ninth grade I convinced my parents to let me relax my hair. For the uninitiated, a relaxer is like a reverse perm. The hair is chemically straightened (ie. a thick cream is applied to the roots and when it starts to tingle, it’s time to wash it out.) When I got my first relaxer, it was like the heavens had parted. Finally I had my dream hair (minus the blonde part).

Today I still wear my hair straight, but I’ve also embraced my curls. I’ve even grown to love them. Even though I’ve been relaxing my hair since I was 14, there’s still a good amount of curls that pops up instantly when my hair gets wet. (My hair is as stubborn as me.) But now all I need is my blow dryer and trusted flat iron to get my dream hair back. When I’m feeling a little unruly, I wear it curly (with the help of Aveda’s Be Curly). The relaxers have made my curls loose, soft and manageable. It’s the curly hair my mother always tried to give me.

The thing is, even when I hated my hair I was always proud of what it symbolized and where it (and I) came from. Maybe using my hair as a connection to Black History Month seems silly, but for me it’s perfect. After all, this month is about celebrating my roots–all of them.

My current relationship with my hair is quite well thank you.

Needless to say, I’ve hashed this over with Kelsey several times. But tonight we made progress. We somehow managed to turn a backward ass compliment like that into a full on compliment. Here’s how we did it:

Kelsey: He basically called you a bitch, but in the nicest way.
Me: So that’s progress!
Kelsey: That’s a compliment!

I’m still not sure how we did it, but I did feel a little better about it. I’m not sure what that says about me or women in general. And people wonder why women spend so much time over analyzing shit guys say. They are just so confusing. I’m cold but I’m cool but….but what!? That is the question I seem to keep turning over in my head.

The only down fall of all this over thinking is that it makes me look like a neurotic freak. If only I could be like those quirky chicks in “He’s Just Not That Into You” who make it all look cute and funny. I bet no one would ever call them cold.

Surprisingly though, I’ve never made fried chicken, until today that is. It’s one of those foods I love but am scared to make, like apple pie and beef bourguignon. But since I’ve already conquered those two with great success, I figured it was time to try my hand at chicken. Turns out all you need is a cast iron skillet and a lot of vegetable oil. When I flipped the chicken over and saw the golden brown crunchy side, I had to shout, “I fried chicken!” My wonderful friends didn’t even make fun of me for it. (Probably because they knew if they did they’d go hungry.) I served it with mashed potatoes, carrots with honey, corn muffins and Arnold Palmers. The chicken was perfect: juicy, crunchy, comforting.

The recipe:
Fried Chicken (makes 4 servings)

The main contenders:
2 cups flour
Salt, to taste
Seasoned pepper, to taste (I used regular black pepper.)
2 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1 whole chicken, cut up (If you’re like me and not read to dismember a chicken, buy a pack of legs and a pack of thighs, or whatever cut you prefer.)
3 cups vegetable oil

Combine flour with salt and pepper in large zip-top bag.

With a fork, whisk eggs and milk in a shallow plate or bowl. Coat chicken pieces generously, and put in bag two at a time. Shake them in flour mixture, remove and set aside.

Heat oil in a large, deep frying pan over medium heat. (Test oil temperature by adding a drop of water to pan; if it sizzles, oil is hot enough.) Using tongs, place some chicken pieces in pan, but do not overlap.

Fry about 15 minutes on one side. Turn pieces over, cover pan and cook 10 minutes more, than take off cover and keep cooking until done, about another five minutes. Cut a piece to the bone, and if juices run clear, it’s done. Remove from pan, and place on plate lined with paper towels. Repeat with remaining pieces.

My entire youth fits into one New York City subway tote. Granted, a few things are missing like Gilmore Girls seasons 1 – 7, a handful of neon jelly bracelets and a  very beat up pair of red Converses. However the bag does hold my once monstrous CD collection, or what’s left of it.

Around my junior year, I began purging my CD collection. I got rid of anything I’d be embarrassed for someone to see. (I’m looking at you ‘NSYNC “No Strings Attached.”) That was also the time I stopped buying new CDs. After much dogged determination to hold on to the good ole days when new music meant going to Best Buy not clicking “purchase” on iTunes, I finally began buying all my music digitally. The music might not have died that day but it sure sounded melancholy.

Today–or rather tomorrow when I haul my tote bag to The Exchange and see what my youth amounts to in dollars in cents–the music will have unofficially died. All the CDs I’m selling will have a forever home on my iPod, Janis, (as in Joplin), but it still feels a tad bittersweet.

There’s no need to keep them. They take up valuable shelf space and rarely do I pop a CD into my Bose player. It’s much easier to just plug in Janis and hit shuffle. But those CDs got me through my awkward high school years when I wanted to dress like Penny Lane from “Almost Famous” and date the lead guitarist. They got me through college when I struggled with classes, tried to deal with my OCD, and spent nights bemoaning boys with my roommate. Music was and is a huge part of my life, and my collection of 200+ CDs went along with it. I worry that no one will know I’m cool just by looking at my CD collection. After all, scrolling through an iPod just isn’t as romantic.

I remember the mix CDs my friends and I made constantly. I remember the summer of ’06 when my favorite album was The Ataris “So Long, Astoria.” I remember buying CDs from earnest musicians peddling their wares outside the gates of Warped Tour in Cincinnati. I remember singing along to “Hands Down” and “New American Classic” and “Empty Apartment.” I remember when I was convinced no man would ever make me feel the way Chris Carrabba could when he strums that guitar.

I still remember everything.

I think it’s a blogging requirement to write about the new year. Never one who likes to miss the bandwagon, I’m jumping in with some of my own goals for 2012. (“Resolutions” is such a loaded statement which I think makes them easier to break.)

1. Continue my week-long work out marathon. I don’t know if working out four times a week is so much a marathon as the amount recommended by the CDC.  Regardless, I’d like to keep it up. Right now I’m just sweating my ass off in my apartment’s gym, but soon I’d like to venture out into the world of people who exercise and get back into yoga.

2. Continue exploring Cleveland. I’ve taken to my new city like a fish to water, but there’s still a lot more I’d like to see in 2012. I’ve still never gone to the Cleveland Art Museum or the Cleveland Zoo. Both will be great for the warmer months, which seem very far away in the midst of this current lake-effect snow.

3. Blog more. This is an ongoing goal but even more so now. You’ll probably notice I’ve made some changes around here on Fact not fiction. Besides updating the design and posting more pictures, the kind of posts I’m writing have changed. Food, fashion, lists, etc. are all becoming more prevalent on here. It wasn’t even a conscious change. This year I began discovering some amazing blogs that have no doubt influenced my own blogging style. I never wanted to just be a foodie blogger or a fashion blogger, but I am incorporating more of those and other things I love into Fact not fiction. I’m excited to see where it goes.

4. Save money.  This is probably the hardest of all my goals. I’ve never been a great saver, and my new life in Cleveland has turned that upside down. After all, with a full-time jobs comes great heaps of bills. It’s definitely a trial by error process when it comes to figuring out a budget but I can only get better.

5. Travel. I’ve got a passport (with a surprisingly decent picture) and no stamps. It’s time that changes. I’ve never even been to Canada. How sad is that? Again another long time goal, considering I can’t just fly off to Paris anytime I want. (See goal #4.) Of course, this isn’t limited to international travel. There are a million places I want to go in the U.S. from San Francisco to the Grand Canyon. I’m starting small with a trip to visit the Laura Ingalls Wilder Home and Museum in Missouri this September.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,100 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 35 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Lemon cupcakes. For the longest time I hated any citrus flavoring. However, these lemon cupcakes with cream cheese frosting have made me a convert. I made them for myself after a coworker brought them in. The flavor isn’t over powering, and they are the moistest cupcakes I’ve ever had. Although nothing can replace red velvet, these are a close second.

The Geek & Chic. My friends Whitney and Tim are the cutest couple ever, and now they’ve taken it to another level with their new blog: The Geek & Chic. Tim (Geek) loves comic books, music and has enough electronics to run a pawn shop out of their apartment. Whitney (Chic) loves sparkles, Toms Shoes and crafting. We also have matching Juicy Couture friendship necklaces so that should tell you how chic she is. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do with their new blog.

Christmas lights. I pass this house every day on my way to work, but today several men were outside stringing lights over every available branch. When I passed it on the way home and saw the finished product, I knew I needed a closer look. I grabbed some warm clothes and my camera and ventured outside to get a closer look. What I love about this place is there are no lights on the house; they’re all on the trees and wrought iron gate, illuminating the entire property.

BIG:
1.  my health
2. my family
3. my friends
4. my job
5. The Moseley family pets: Griff, Petey, Maddie, Porsche and Lucy

little:
1. the Cleveland library
2. my bff’s hilarious new tumblr: Hippo Coworker
3. having a job that doesn’t require me to get up at the crack of dawn on Black Friday
4. my dad’s Thanksgiving dinner
5. Stella, my Macbook
6. my new iPod, Janis
7. Sprint has the iPhone!
8. Lakewood, Ohio
9. Adam Siska joining Say Anything
10.  Jon Huntsman, a Republican I don’t hate

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.