#I like being organized and sh*t so I had to separate these things lol

[luciana-silentstar]

Old vs new. I have Big Feelings, but ultimately I'm excited about it(shocked?). Since I've always wanted to keep this blog strictly Luciana/game based, I have created a sideblog for rambles, critiques etc. where I can engage in Discourse™️

[fisshbones]

Hcs of some Hoyoverse characters!!

ft!! Heizou, Sunday, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Furina, Sampo, Xiao, & Pela

Genre: fluff/crack!! No warnings that I can think of besides of being mildly ooc and some being shorter than others. Could be read as platonic. Modern Au Gn! Reader.

Heizou ->

Has thousands and thousands of screenshots, pictures, and videos saved on his phone. Refuses to delete them because “you never know, they might come in use later.” Once in a VERY LONG while does his habit actually pay off. He’s paying for the cloud subscription service 1000% If he doesn’t his phone is borderline useless. If you go through it you’ll wonder how he finds jack sh*t in that phone, there’s no organization on/in that thing. That being said he doesn’t need to put things in separate albums because he had absolutely no issues with finding what he needs. (he’s literally me)

Sunday ->

Sunday likes to tend to his multiple gardens back where he lives. There’s two green houses back at his home. One is his and one belongs to his dear sister. If you want one too, he’ll gladly make some plans for yours next. When him or Robin can’t tend to the flowers, he has a gardener come tend to them in the meantime. While all of them brings joy to him he has a special soft spot for (white) calla lilies and spider mums.

Scaramouche/Wanderer ->

The definition of an annoying menace. He’ll put sticky notes with (sometimes with writing) on your back without you knowing. He used to do this to Childe too, only when it was Childe it would be way meaner. One fool read the ‘kick me’ note on his back and actually did it. Poor idiot guy learned a lesson that day. The worst he’s put on your back was a note with a stupid face on it. And if someone makes fun of you for it, he’ll give them a black eye! He’s the only one allowed to be an ass to you. :)

Furina ->

Does catwalk struts in her mirror when no one is home. She gets wayyyyy too into it. She’ll start on one side of the house and when she gets to her mirror she’ll strike a pose. One time you walked into her standing in front of the mirror doing pose 28. She couldn’t look into your eyes for a week afterwards. If you ask her to give her a lil show, she’ll do it but don’t laugh cause she might cry. lol. (she’s so me coded)

Sampo ->

He plays those driving games with the steering wheel and all. Sampo started streaming it too to make some hot cash$$ This man is DEDICATED to the act he preforms while streaming this game. If he gets into an accident in the game he makes it look like it happened irl too. He’s given himself whiplash from how fast and hard he slammed himself in his chair. think this.

Xiao->

BIG CONCERT FAN!!! Hates the crowds so much though (T ^ T) He’s so not a people person. Always manages to get great seats for you guys. He’s willing to see any performer if it’s for you, even if it’s not someone he likes. I personally see him as liking every genre of music, so there’s a fat chance he’ll still like the music being played. Xiao would put you on his shoulders if you ask him too. But I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to see any better this way because of how short he is.

Pela ->

Pela makes a crap ton of edits and fanfics. Any where between thirst edits and angst edits of anime characters. She’s got over 50k followers just waiting for her to drop the newest robin or satosugu edit. She’s also got of followers on the platform she posts her fanfics on. She’s big on x readers AND ship fics. That girl puts in work making sure both her edits and fics are absolutely perfect.

If you enjoyed likes/reblogs/replies are appreciated!!

fisshbones © 2024 do not repost or translate

[butiamlookingforlove]

When an INFJ has a crush on an ESTJ, story time

Disclaimer: I don’t really care all that much about mbti, it isn’t very accurate. However, after spending some free time listening to C. S. Joseph’s lectures I found myself resonating a lot with his system, it’s awesome, and it have been working for me as a great path to develop myself and achieve personal growth.

ALSO, 

I am - the INFJ girl and brilliant narrator,

He is - the ESTJ and my big fat crush.

Keep in mind that we’re both like, kids in high school so, it’ll be a cute story but we’re not that mature yet.

                                      ═══════╠☆╣═══════

Everything started when we met on a very big event that we both participated. There were a lot of teens, it was during carnival, but we were not drinking and partying, actually, that event was organized as an alternative for teens who basically didn’t want to spend those 3 days hooking up with random people and doing all the same basic stuff teens do during carnival.

So we had the opportunity to meet each other when we were at our best selves. We shared 3 days of wholesome moments together. We were all divided in groups and he ended up in my group (purely by coincidence luck), that’s why we spent so much time together.

In some of those experiences we oppenly shared pieces of our lives with our group, shared some good times with everybody (you can tell my extraverted sensing inferior - that I’m proud to say I’m doing a great job developing it - was feeling extremely happy). Because the event had activities starting since very early in the morning, we had our day completely focused on spendind time together and doing different stuff together. 

So yeah, whenever he expressed himself I was attuned, he was genuinely giving the impression of having figured himself out but still trying to now better so he could become a better person, he shared his political opinions, but I liked the fact that he really isn’t extremist and respects people who thinks differently, but honestly for me the best part is that he IS reaching out for as much information as possible so he can decide upon the best idea so... I instantly thought... this is so similar to me I love it!

And then, at the latest night I spent there, I started to REALLY think about saying something to him, you know, about my feelings. Mainly because we were not from the same city, we probably wouldn’t see each other again, I had to tell him I was very admired by him, I knew it’d be weird if I told him I had a crush on him, even I thought it made no sense, why was I feeling that way?

I figured I should at least tell him the nice impression he had on me and that I had from him, only as a matter of making him feel happy you know, who doesn’t like being told that someone thought they’re great? Because, besides my deep amazement by his mindsets and assertiviness, we just had so much potential as friends, he showed himself more friendly then I honestly expected. When I saw him and started to figure him out on my own I thought he wasn’t looking for making friends with strangers, but when we started talking, it took less than a second for me to realize we would get along just fine.

I had that Leo Valdez/Calypso moment though, where I would think “yeah it’s like we’re not playing in the same team, he’s so much more than average and bla bla”. It didn’t stop me though, I was focused on expressing how happy and understood he made me feel and that I thought he was amazing. If he liked it and got happy, I’d be happy.

BUT, I knew he deserved some explanation about my intentions, I really tried my best, I swear, and honestly my speech didn’t end so bad but it was missing stuff. So I plotted the best moment for it, waited to talk to him alone, so I decided the best way was to take action. I gave him an excuse regarding his friend, pretending that this other guy was calling him so I could take him with me out of our circle of new friends.

After that I was holding his arm and guiding him to a place that had few people around. (I was feeling super bold, super proud, super happy). I said quietly and playfully “now just walk normaly, there’s nothing about that boy, I lied, he isn’t calling you, I’M actually the one that wants to talk to you”.

When we got to the part where I started actually talking... the first thing I said was “I think you’re amazing”. And threw at him a lot of compliments. I managed to explain myself to try and make it clear that I wasn’t a weirdo hadn’t any second interests, so I told him I was not planning to, like, ask him to kiss me right then and right there.

And generally it really was a dorky, cute, confession of nice feelings I had for that person. Not so much romantic feelings, but honest and innocent.

The next thing I knew my brain was like “mission accomplished” and after just observing his happy and gladful behavior I knew I was successful. 

BUT THEN, he started complimenting me back, suddenly coming to better conclusions about what kind of person I was, so he was like “HOLLY SH!T THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN, YOU ARE SO CUTE”.

AND THEN, he said something that created a 2 seconds long earthequake inside my head: “I knew I shouldn’t had come here while I’m in a relationship”.

Yeah, he had (and still has) a girlfriend.

I thought like “yeah, that was pretty obvious”, but I got disappointed of course. Since that moment I did my best to leave romantic feelings aside, but I can’t guarantee anymore if I made myself completely clear on that regard. Probably not.

But, anyways, I just left that in the back of my mind, put that under the bed and ignored it. He was so pleased, so I couldn’t start worrying. But the fact is that, he not only confirmed his mutual attraction but also he really started considering me romantically after that ‘confession’.

We had to both come to the conclusion that it sucked that he was dating someone else, but that didn’t kill our great mood at all. Unfortunately, our alone time together was interrupted by other people around and we were separated.

BUT, we spent the rest of the day together (which was more like the last 3 hours of the event, it was a really short time together ;-;), getting to know each other better, talking about how mutually impressed we were by each other. A lot of cute moments. The only thing that bothered me honestly was that he really was devasted that I lived in another town, and that we would not be able to share much more moments like that together on the next few weeks and months. He was really taking the conversation to the topic I was avoiding to pay attention in my mind. Beacuse I trully knew about all those sad things, but I wanted to avoid the painful feeling they brought to me. He started comforting himself saying “I hope you find someone as great as you are in your life”, he knew it would wreck us both to deal with a distance relationship, and a breakup. (or at leat that was what I tought he meant by that, since he was giving up on seeing us together but later on he couldn’t stop actually investing into our friendship - and for me at least I have always hopes for the future, I definitely still see us together when we grow up).

BESIDES, he trully believes that we have potential to become more than friends, he absolutely made that clear. But neither one of us forgot the fact that we just met 3 days ago and this thought really felt kinda weird (illogical).

At the end of the day, besides the unfortunate situations of us living in different towns and his girlfriend we shared our phone numbers. So we keep in contact until this day. Before I took the bus back to where I live, we had our last hug. And with that, on our final goodbye, I took the opportunity to kiss his cheek.

So, feel free to share what you personally thought about all that. Especially if there’s any estj’s out there and if you think this guy is really an estj (I personally believe he is but with a great developed infp subconscious). Also if you’re an infj like me, do you even picture yourself going full estp subconscious and confessing to someone’s face? lol me neither it’s very thrilling

I'll update some other day about us and this story, I have more things to say. ;)

[pmddnutter]

Running a business with PMDD

I suffer from a condition called Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder or PMDD for short, its sometimes referred to as severe PMS although it is certainly way worse than PMS.  It has only recently (May 2019) been recognised by the World Health Organisation (WHO) as a unique condition meaning that PMDD will be considered a separate condition to severe PMS, should see more funding and research and allow doctors across the world to standardise their terms.  Hopefully leading to more diagnoses and better treatment and understanding.

The WHO defines PMDD as:

“a pattern of mood symptoms (depressed mood, irritability), somatic symptoms (lethargy, joint pain, overeating), or cognitive symptoms (concentration difficulties, forgetfulness) that begin several days before the onset of menses, start to improve within a few days after the onset of menses, and then become minimal or absent within approximately 1 week following the onset of menses.”[i]

PMDD is debilitating, it has caused women to commit suicide.  There are no specific treatments for it; for some women hormonal contraception works well, for other antidepressants, and for a handful of women only a full hysterectomy has helped.  Whatever the treatments, PMDD is different for different women – it affects us all differently.

PMDD and Me

For me PMDD is that girl in high school that was a bit two faced, smiles to your face when she needs you but when your back is turned pulled that ‘urgh’ face and rolls her eyes to her ‘real’ mates – you know the one I mean.

She is never the same though, some months she can be quite mild and meek, maybe a bit of insomnia and overeating, sometimes a bit grumpy or irritable – kinda friendly but you know that there is a storm brewing.  Other months she is in full on Bitch Mode!  She makes me believe my husband is having an affair, she makes me eat ALL DAY, she tells me I’m no good, she makes me want to get in my car and drive as far away as possible.

And when you have this whilst running your own one-man band business it’s really bloody hard!  As a small business owner hand making you own products you already question yourself pretty much daily; is my stuff any good, why do people buy it, why aren’t people buying it, shall I just jack it in and go back to ‘real’ work full time?  So, add PMDD into the mix and I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster and I bloody hate rollercoasters!

With PMDD I get these amazing times of euphoria, exciting manic times where my creativity and enthusiasm are in overdrive and OMG these times are awesome.  I come up with some of my best work during this time, my marketing strategies all just seem to work, I love being around people and go out and network loads.

But then I have to crash, and I kinda know I will but I never know how hard.  Sometimes I’ll just have a teary day, one where nothing goes right, I miss stamp literally everything and nothing I post on social media is interesting, so no one comments.  But sometimes this just lasts 1 day and I don’t even realise until my period starts that this day happened.  But other times I crash bad…  I just hate everyone and everything, my customer service goes out of the window as everyone is against me.  Why bother posting on social media as I can’t make it sound nice or enthusiastic.  I spend pretty much all day holding back the tears and my horrible attitude, I just want to stay in bed but I can’t sleep, I eat EVERYTHING in sight and I literally have to force myself to do even the most menial of tasks.

One of the very worst things about these really deep lows is that I don’t recognise myself, I am usually (for the other 2/3 weeks of the month) a really happy and enthusiastic person which is why I sometimes don’t even realise the manic days have happened until the low starts.  The lows that scare me are the ones where I don’t want to be around people, especially when you have a house to run with 2 small children and a husband and a part time job.  The ones where I just can’t seem to snap out of it, I know I’m in deep, I can’t stop myself saying some nasty things and snapping at those closest to me.  The lows where any orders I get don’t matter, they’ll probably just hate it when it arrives anyway so what’s the point making it at all.  Any messages I get I just can’t be arsed to reply as the questions are just so inane and pointless, or they’re just moaning at me for no reason – no your order that you placed 10 mins ago won’t be with you tomorrow as I have to HAND MAKE IT!  I have to stop myself replying with a message saying ‘won’t you just f*ck off already, you’ll get it when I decide you’re worthy enough to make my crappy handmade sh*t that you probably won’t like anyway and you won’t bother to leave me any feedback even if you do’ (that’s a whole other blog for another time!)

So why am I writing this blog now?

It is now December 2019 and I’ve been trying to write this since PMDD awareness month back in April 2019!  At the beginning of the month I had a plan to do some awesome posts about it, create some keyrings, maybe even raise some money.  Then it hits… why would anyone want to buy any of my keyrings, I’d be doing the cause a grave injustice in creating such shit products.  Believe me, the irony of this is not lost!  The irony of the negative thoughts is never lost once I come out the other side, and it’s this irony that delays me getting the help I need.  A few days passes and you convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, it was just you feeling a bit blue for a day.  You get on with life, looking after the kids, bury yourself in work; the high is well and truly convincing you that you are absolutely fine and that next month won’t be so bad.  But then you notice the date, it’s a few days before you are due to ovulate and here we go again…

I went to my GP in May 2019 as the symptoms were not getting any better and asked to have the hormonal coil fitted again as it had helped me so much before I had my second baby.  It was fitted in June this year and I waited the 3 months to see if it would help, it unfortunately didn’t and in October I had one of my worst lows to date.  It was horrendous and I booked a GP appointment at 2am after being awake for nearly 48hrs, having eaten god knows how much food, drunk far too much wine and cried at every little thing I watched.  I saw my GP a couple of weeks later, obviously I was feeling much better but I am determined to get this thing sorted and she was amazing and we went through the options and I decided on trying oestrogen for the 2 weeks prior to my cycle.  I had to giggle to myself when reading the instructions; firstly because I have to rub 1 squirt of this gel into my thigh at the same time every day, and secondly because this is effectively HRT given to older ladies at the time of the change LOL!

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like this is working for me, I’m 4 days before I am normally due on and the symptoms are back.  Definitely not as severe as the October crash but the feelings of annoyance, self-doubt and pointlessness of it all are here, my next step is perhaps anti-depressants, so I’ll book an appointment with the GP and see what the next steps are.

My battle with PMDD and keeping sane for my business continues, even as I write this I am questioning all my plans for 2020. I have/had some great ideas but that little well of anxiety is brewing up again and I’m thinking it’ll just be better/easier to scrap it all. I won’t though, I’ll step away from social media, take some time out for me (although with this comes the Mum Guilt fun) and give myself a good talking to that this will pass and next week I’ll be buzzing and posting non-stop and bugging everyone again! Until next month…

Thanks for reading,

Emma xx

For more information and guidance for PMDD please check out the MIND website here or IAPMD here, or feel free to drop me a message.

You can also download an app to track your symptoms here.

[i] https://iapmd.org/position-statements-1/2019/6/11/world-health-organization-adds-premenstrual-dysphoric-disorder-pmdd-into-the-icd-11

[smokeybrandcompositions]

Blackjack

I’m blacker than the ace of spades, man. I love our skin tone. I love our swag. I love everything about being black, culturally. We are the most influential and imitated culture, worldwide, and at the same time, the most aggressively hated. When i was in high school, i asked a bigot who was a huge fan of Busta Rhymes how he could be such a hypocrite and he told me, i sh*t you not, “Love the sinner not the sin.” Being black was a sin to this motherf*cker but, since he liked our music, he compartmentalized our identity into something more palatable to his ignorant senses. He separated Busta’s art from Busta, himself, which i can’t even understand. Beethoven was black. You’re telling me his Fifth is any less a triumph of sound because of his moorish beginnings? I find it odd how people can just write off your ethnic identity when you don’t fit into the box they want.

My dad was one of the blackest motherf*ckers i have ever met but what does that mean? Yes, he was loud. Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, he was a petty criminal and drug addict. But he was more than that. He was also a brilliant mechanic and gifted athlete. He was amazing when it came to problem solving and often weeded out solutions most people couldn’t even see. Pops grew up in a single-parent home, in the ghettos of San Francisco during the 60s and 70s. He was a goon, that caricature you see in old black gangster movies like Juice. My dad was a ghetto stereotype and the polar opposite of my mother. My mom grew up in a two parent, upper-middle class, household as a kid. She didn’t see the world the same way my father saw it. She acquired a completely different set of skills, skills so alien to him, personally, he simply couldn’t reconcile my mother to his cultural experiences. To him, my mom was one of the “whitest” black people he had ever met.

Therein lies the question; What does it mean to be black? My father equated blackness to the ghetto gangster archetype popularized by rap music and what not, but my mother disagreed. She felt that blackness was more than that. She understood there were more facets, nuance, to the identity of our people. In the macro sense, i agree with that. We are man. We can be more. But, ultimately, even among ourselves, we make these superficial judgments over stupid sh*t all the time. I don’t think my mom is “white”. I think she’s naive. I think my pops thought that, too, but he couldn’t articulate it as eloquently. I think my dad was too stubborn or afraid to broaden his perspective about our culture, probably stemming from the trauma of losing his father at such a young age. My Grandpa died when my dad was five or six. Grandpap was a gangster. He was a pimp. He was a low level criminal, everything my father equated to “blackness.” I think he held on to that image as a means to hold on to his father and it became his overall worldview. When my father died, my sister kind of did the same thing. I didn’t because f*ck that guy. My dad and i hated each other. We were very clear on that.

Speaking of Me, i am blacker than the ace of spades. I mentioned that earlier. I, too, and this is probably because i am my father’s son in SO many uncomfortable ways, am very intimidating. I am wildly athletic, particularly in American football. I love hoop and Rap music, i hate cops and authority, and i have a healthy, organic, lust for big butts. I cannot lie. I grew up in the ghetto and, when need be, can become extremely, cartoonishly, hood. I have an unassailable pride in exactly who the f*ck i am and very aggressively protect myself from others less-than-sterling opinions of themselves. Now, all of that said, i hate fried foods, i f*cking love math and physics, i don’t care for watermelon, I'm not really a Democrat, and i don’t lust after white women. The love of my life, who we’ll get too in a minute, is Black, Mexican, French, and Native. I am stunningly intelligent and tend to live inside my head because most people are exhausting to me. The last time i was tested, i had an IQ of 154. Being smarter than most people you meat, just loving the process of learning in general, is something that is shunned with in the discussion of “being black.” If you’ve followed me for some time, or just give a cursory look at this blog, you can probably tell i am total and complete weeb. My Geek Card is punched and official. I play the sh*t out of video games and have since i was a Wee Smokey. Actually, I've been all of these things since i was extremely young. It’s funny because my two favorite genres of games to play are JRPG and f*cking NBA 2K. That little tidbit is a microcosm of who i am.

When i was in high school, i was considered hood as f*ck. I fought everyone i could, conditioned with the football team, skipped class at every opportunity, and dated a Brazilian chick for two years. That was the outward Me, the Me people assume i am. I cannot deny that version, that perception, is a part of who i am but i am so much more than that. The thing is, i skipped class to get home in time and watch Transformers: Robots in Disguise. My lady at the time and i met because of the poetry i had written in my spare time. Yes, i used to write poems. I was published a few times actually. She and i bonded over our mutual love for The Red Hot Chili Peppers and No Doubt. Bro, The Killers are my all-time favorite band. Mr. Brightside and Read My Mind are classics i know by heart. I conditioned with the football team but i only ever played my Freshman year. I don;t care for the sport at all. On the surface, the superficial, public perception of who i am, makes me as black as night. But who i am, totally, one could make the argument i am nowhere near negro. I find that contradiction fascinating.

As i stated above, my lady is a cadre of cultures but the two that stand out most are her Mexican and Black roots. Cats can mistake her for either but she usually gets Black. Like my mother and father before me, my lady and i grew up on the extreme opposite ends of the scale. I was a Dirty Ghetto Kid and she grew up rich. Yeah, i landed me a rich girl, what of it? I went to a school that had metal detectors at every entrance and she went to f*cking finishing school. I had no idea there were so many forks until i met her. I turned sixteen with no jail time, beating several not-so-flattering statistics. She had a Quinceanera and attended debutante balls. My lady, of course, had her own issues, things i have no way of properly understanding outside of a theoretical assumption. For all intents and purposes, because of her upbringing, because of the way she carries herself, she’d be considered “white.” The thing is, she can give MY hood a run for it’s money but the way she portrays that side of her, is way more palatable than how i do it. If I'm a blunt object, she’s a precision edge.

She didn’t grow up in an environment where masculinity was paramount and you absolutely had to destroy a motherf*cker if they pressed your manhood. She never had to interact with the streets so the street code was academic to her. She didn’t approach problem solving with physical intimidation and aggressive threats like i learned. I literally got my license after failing the driver’s test for a rolling stop, by punking out my instructor into signing my forms. That sh*t works for me. My lady is five-foot-nothing. She ain’t intimidating anyone. Her solution to this solution problem was to outsmart everyone. She is one of the quickest, most intellectually agile, people i have ever met. She can debate anything until they are literally, physically, exhausted. Our first real conversation was an argument over who the better character in DBZ, Vegeta or Gohan. I had to concede to her. I lost that debate. Me. That NEVER happens. I don’t lose arguments. I immediately fell in love. I’ve watched my lady bring grown men to tears after verbally undressing them. She’s that intense and i just kind of fanboy when she does it. But, according to the Laws of Blackness, that’s not how you do things. You gotta get in there and posture as hard as f*ck until you come to blows. Like Walruses.

There is no satisfactory way to conclude this exploratory essay into what defines blackness. There cant be. Being black is as fluid as the ocean and just as deep. My little sister is Desi, smart as a whip, and pulls in six figures a year. She has two degrees and is in school for a third in math just because she enjoys the process of learning, like me. She’s incredibly shy. bordering on agoraphobic, but let a motherf*cker test me or anyone she loves. She because the blackest motherf*cker i have ever seen since my pops and it’s adorable. She’s not even anywhere near black. Not a drop of the Afros in her lineage. Does that mean “being Black” is simply a state of mind? Is it just a catch-all standard of media perpetuated stereotypes? Does any of this sh*t even matter? No. No it doesn’t. Look, i got two kid brothers that i raised because my parents weren’t real good at parenting. One has grown up to be an Uncle Tom with next to no self worth. The other is a nomadic, pot-smoking, emo Skaterboi. Both of them will mash you if pressed. Both of them can recite Pi to the thirteenth number. Both of them love hoop and hate cops, just like me. Both of them game hard, the Hippie Skaterboi is actually a pro LoL player, and they both love anime. Most of that is my influence on their world but does that disqualify their blackness? Does my Weeby Nerdom which rubbed off during their development, make them any less black? No! F*cking no, of course not! This sh*t is stupid and I'm tired of talking about it.

There is no such thing as “being a bad black person” or “being a white black person.” That sh*t is dumb. Black folks are black. We define ourselves. Sure, a real good indicator is our skin tone and the way society treats us but, underneath that surface bullsh*t, we are so much more. I love Spider-Man, Godzilla, and Transformers. I love Rap, Nuwave, hip-hop, Grand Ol’ Oprey, classical orchestra, Post Punk, ska, retro wave, and so many more music genres. I am an NBA historian but know next to nothing about the NFL. I just don’t care. I’m a massive fan of Cyberpunk claims but absolutely hate anything Tyler Perry or budget Black cinema. Neon Genesis Evangelion is my all-time favorite anime and Hannibal is arguably the greatest show to ever air on US televisions. Star Wars hold a special place in my heart, along with Doctor Who, Batman, Dragon Ball Z, and Luther. I grew up in the ghetto, lived in the rich suburbs, and stay downtown. My first car was a 65 Mustang Coupe, then a Ford Probe, followed by 91 Accord. I've driven a 350Z since 2014. I held a nine to five job for probably a decade but now write professionally. I am l of this but, before any of that, i am blacker than the ace of spades.

[smokeybrand]

Blackjack

I’m blacker than the ace of spades, man. I love our skin tone. I love our swag. I love everything about being black, culturally. We are the most influential and imitated culture, worldwide, and at the same time, the most aggressively hated. When i was in high school, i asked a bigot who was a huge fan of Busta Rhymes how he could be such a hypocrite and he told me, i sh*t you not, “Love the sinner not the sin.” Being black was a sin to this motherf*cker but, since he liked our music, he compartmentalized our identity into something more palatable to his ignorant senses. He separated Busta’s art from Busta, himself, which i can’t even understand. Beethoven was black. You’re telling me his Fifth is any less a triumph of sound because of his moorish beginnings? I find it odd how people can just write off your ethnic identity when you don’t fit into the box they want.

My dad was one of the blackest motherf*ckers i have ever met but what does that mean? Yes, he was loud. Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, he was a petty criminal and drug addict. But he was more than that. He was also a brilliant mechanic and gifted athlete. He was amazing when it came to problem solving and often weeded out solutions most people couldn’t even see. Pops grew up in a single-parent home, in the ghettos of San Francisco during the 60s and 70s. He was a goon, that caricature you see in old black gangster movies like Juice. My dad was a ghetto stereotype and the polar opposite of my mother. My mom grew up in a two parent, upper-middle class, household as a kid. She didn’t see the world the same way my father saw it. She acquired a completely different set of skills, skills so alien to him, personally, he simply couldn’t reconcile my mother to his cultural experiences. To him, my mom was one of the “whitest” black people he had ever met.

Therein lies the question; What does it mean to be black? My father equated blackness to the ghetto gangster archetype popularized by rap music and what not, but my mother disagreed. She felt that blackness was more than that. She understood there were more facets, nuance, to the identity of our people. In the macro sense, i agree with that. We are man. We can be more. But, ultimately, even among ourselves, we make these superficial judgments over stupid sh*t all the time. I don’t think my mom is “white”. I think she’s naive. I think my pops thought that, too, but he couldn’t articulate it as eloquently. I think my dad was too stubborn or afraid to broaden his perspective about our culture, probably stemming from the trauma of losing his father at such a young age. My Grandpa died when my dad was five or six. Grandpap was a gangster. He was a pimp. He was a low level criminal, everything my father equated to “blackness.” I think he held on to that image as a means to hold on to his father and it became his overall worldview. When my father died, my sister kind of did the same thing. I didn’t because f*ck that guy. My dad and i hated each other. We were very clear on that.

Speaking of Me, i am blacker than the ace of spades. I mentioned that earlier. I, too, and this is probably because i am my father’s son in SO many uncomfortable ways, am very intimidating. I am wildly athletic, particularly in American football. I love hoop and Rap music, i hate cops and authority, and i have a healthy, organic, lust for big butts. I cannot lie. I grew up in the ghetto and, when need be, can become extremely, cartoonishly, hood. I have an unassailable pride in exactly who the f*ck i am and very aggressively protect myself from others less-than-sterling opinions of themselves. Now, all of that said, i hate fried foods, i f*cking love math and physics, i don’t care for watermelon, I'm not really a Democrat, and i don’t lust after white women. The love of my life, who we’ll get too in a minute, is Black, Mexican, French, and Native. I am stunningly intelligent and tend to live inside my head because most people are exhausting to me. The last time i was tested, i had an IQ of 154. Being smarter than most people you meat, just loving the process of learning in general, is something that is shunned with in the discussion of “being black.” If you’ve followed me for some time, or just give a cursory look at this blog, you can probably tell i am total and complete weeb. My Geek Card is punched and official. I play the sh*t out of video games and have since i was a Wee Smokey. Actually, I've been all of these things since i was extremely young. It’s funny because my two favorite genres of games to play are JRPG and f*cking NBA 2K. That little tidbit is a microcosm of who i am.

When i was in high school, i was considered hood as f*ck. I fought everyone i could, conditioned with the football team, skipped class at every opportunity, and dated a Brazilian chick for two years. That was the outward Me, the Me people assume i am. I cannot deny that version, that perception, is a part of who i am but i am so much more than that. The thing is, i skipped class to get home in time and watch Transformers: Robots in Disguise. My lady at the time and i met because of the poetry i had written in my spare time. Yes, i used to write poems. I was published a few times actually. She and i bonded over our mutual love for The Red Hot Chili Peppers and No Doubt. Bro, The Killers are my all-time favorite band. Mr. Brightside and Read My Mind are classics i know by heart. I conditioned with the football team but i only ever played my Freshman year. I don;t care for the sport at all. On the surface, the superficial, public perception of who i am, makes me as black as night. But who i am, totally, one could make the argument i am nowhere near negro. I find that contradiction fascinating.

As i stated above, my lady is a cadre of cultures but the two that stand out most are her Mexican and Black roots. Cats can mistake her for either but she usually gets Black. Like my mother and father before me, my lady and i grew up on the extreme opposite ends of the scale. I was a Dirty Ghetto Kid and she grew up rich. Yeah, i landed me a rich girl, what of it? I went to a school that had metal detectors at every entrance and she went to f*cking finishing school. I had no idea there were so many forks until i met her. I turned sixteen with no jail time, beating several not-so-flattering statistics. She had a Quinceanera and attended debutante balls. My lady, of course, had her own issues, things i have no way of properly understanding outside of a theoretical assumption. For all intents and purposes, because of her upbringing, because of the way she carries herself, she’d be considered “white.” The thing is, she can give MY hood a run for it’s money but the way she portrays that side of her, is way more palatable than how i do it. If I'm a blunt object, she’s a precision edge.

She didn’t grow up in an environment where masculinity was paramount and you absolutely had to destroy a motherf*cker if they pressed your manhood. She never had to interact with the streets so the street code was academic to her. She didn’t approach problem solving with physical intimidation and aggressive threats like i learned. I literally got my license after failing the driver’s test for a rolling stop, by punking out my instructor into signing my forms. That sh*t works for me. My lady is five-foot-nothing. She ain’t intimidating anyone. Her solution to this solution problem was to outsmart everyone. She is one of the quickest, most intellectually agile, people i have ever met. She can debate anything until they are literally, physically, exhausted. Our first real conversation was an argument over who the better character in DBZ, Vegeta or Gohan. I had to concede to her. I lost that debate. Me. That NEVER happens. I don’t lose arguments. I immediately fell in love. I’ve watched my lady bring grown men to tears after verbally undressing them. She’s that intense and i just kind of fanboy when she does it. But, according to the Laws of Blackness, that’s not how you do things. You gotta get in there and posture as hard as f*ck until you come to blows. Like Walruses.

There is no satisfactory way to conclude this exploratory essay into what defines blackness. There cant be. Being black is as fluid as the ocean and just as deep. My little sister is Desi, smart as a whip, and pulls in six figures a year. She has two degrees and is in school for a third in math just because she enjoys the process of learning, like me. She’s incredibly shy. bordering on agoraphobic, but let a motherf*cker test me or anyone she loves. She because the blackest motherf*cker i have ever seen since my pops and it’s adorable. She’s not even anywhere near black. Not a drop of the Afros in her lineage. Does that mean “being Black” is simply a state of mind? Is it just a catch-all standard of media perpetuated stereotypes? Does any of this sh*t even matter? No. No it doesn’t. Look, i got two kid brothers that i raised because my parents weren’t real good at parenting. One has grown up to be an Uncle Tom with next to no self worth. The other is a nomadic, pot-smoking, emo Skaterboi. Both of them will mash you if pressed. Both of them can recite Pi to the thirteenth number. Both of them love hoop and hate cops, just like me. Both of them game hard, the Hippie Skaterboi is actually a pro LoL player, and they both love anime. Most of that is my influence on their world but does that disqualify their blackness? Does my Weeby Nerdom which rubbed off during their development, make them any less black? No! F*cking no, of course not! This sh*t is stupid and I'm tired of talking about it.

There is no such thing as “being a bad black person” or “being a white black person.” That sh*t is dumb. Black folks are black. We define ourselves. Sure, a real good indicator is our skin tone and the way society treats us but, underneath that surface bullsh*t, we are so much more. I love Spider-Man, Godzilla, and Transformers. I love Rap, Nuwave, hip-hop, Grand Ol’ Oprey, classical orchestra, Post Punk, ska, retro wave, and so many more music genres. I am an NBA historian but know next to nothing about the NFL. I just don’t care. I’m a massive fan of Cyberpunk claims but absolutely hate anything Tyler Perry or budget Black cinema. Neon Genesis Evangelion is my all-time favorite anime and Hannibal is arguably the greatest show to ever air on US televisions. Star Wars hold a special place in my heart, along with Doctor Who, Batman, Dragon Ball Z, and Luther. I grew up in the ghetto, lived in the rich suburbs, and stay downtown. My first car was a 65 Mustang Coupe, then a Ford Probe, followed by 91 Accord. I've driven a 350Z since 2014. I held a nine to five job for probably a decade but now write professionally. I am l of this but, before any of that, i am blacker than the ace of spades.