Half-cocked Smile and Mouth Like a Loaded Gun


Posts tagged with "Personal"

Soap Box

I don’t really engage in a lot of the conversations that go on here.  I follow a few people who are opinionated and vocal, and I appreciate everything they address, even when I don’t agree with it. I mostly stay out of it and absorb whatever knowledge I can.   

The past few days my dashboard has been flooded with two (unrelated) topics that I just wanna broach really quick: Marriage Equality and the position of biracial individuals in the POC community 

1.Marriage Equality:

I fully understand that marriage equality is not about the fetishization of your OTP, I do. I see how that’s disrespectful to the real struggle of living, breathing, non-fictional people. However, all the anger that is directed towards it seems like a waste of energy to me. Maybe you don’t agree with their motivations, and maybe you don’t like their signs, but guess what? These people left home, made signs, and attended protests. They’re there. They’re out and being seen and lending their support.  Are we really in a strong enough position to be attacking our allies?    

2. The Position of Biracial Individuals in the POC Community:

I’m aware that my skin is privilege. With my green eyes and coffee-after-8-creamers pigment, I know that I can and do pass. When I go places with my (darker) brother I see the way women clutch their purses, or their children, and I notice that sales people are “helpful” to the point of stalking just to keep an eye on him. I’m not ignorant of the ways in which I benefit from from my paleness, but I keep coming across posts that claim I need to prove myself to the POC community to be accepted by them and I just don’t understand it. Don’t get me wrong, I can understand their lack of trust. I get it, I don’t experience a lot of racism. I’m not about that life and I don’t have the same struggles.

But it’s not like my dual ethnicity means that I think racism doesn’t exist. Of course, I witness it; people make comments to and around me, because they don’t realize that looking like this can mean that I’m half black. I know it exists and I know my brother has to deal with it every day. And I have madd respect for people who do put up with the suspicious looks, and disrespectful comments. But I don’t see why I should have prove myself to anyone.

For what? Because genes that I have no control over determined my melanin content? My mother is black. Asking me to prove myself is a request that I affirm that I’m not a traitor to the woman who birthed me. Which just feels ridiculous, because how could I ever be? But I also can’t shit on white people. That’s my dad. That’s the man who will confront white strangers in grocery stores about their casual use of “Nigger”.    

Being wholly or partially white does not equal being inherently cruel or nasty or racist. I find that the most prominent factor in racism is upbringing; people are taught to hate.

Not only do I not understand the need for biracial individuals to prove themselves, but I also don’t see how we can. What could I possibly do? No matter the community I turn to I’m inauthentic. I am neither and both; being told to prove myself feels like being told to choose, which is impossible, the only reason I’m me is because of the blend and claiming one side over the other is lying to others as well as myself.   

After reading so much about these topics and seeing where other people stand I just wanted to explore my own thoughts on them. That is all. Thanks for your time. 

Honestly, I think that Starship Troopers was on some next level shit.

It makes sense to me that to become a citizen you have to serve in the military, and only citizens can hold office/have children/vote. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all about militarism, but I do strongly believe that people who have never been fired upon or had friends die in battle should not be in a position to send others into combat. And I’m sure our youth would be more intelligent and less poverty stricken if people who are barely equipped to take care of themselves weren’t breeding like dogs.  

And yeah, militarism can turn out bad, but I don’t see anything wrong with having a nation of trained, capable individuals that are disciplined and understand the true meaning of leadership.

Dearest Tumblr,

Don’t tell me Marilyn Monroe had terrible hygiene unless you link me to some interviews of someone talking about that shit.

Don’t say that hammocks make people sleep better unless you’re hooking me up with some studies.

I’m not interested in your random facts unless they have citations. At least two would be ideal.



I think the thing I’m best at is driving myself crazy over situations/people that don’t matter.  

That, or not answering my phone/returning calls. I’m pretty stellar at that too. 

Jun 7
Riley and Jessca at the merch booth

Riley and Jessca at the merch booth

Where the Loyal Things Aren’t

I find fame infuriating. 

Maurice Sendak was sitting in his home waiting to die* and nobody gave a fuck until he did.  And now suddenly there are blog posts and tweets and articles and fanart and it’s such bullshit.  You loved him? You loved his work?  Then maybe you should have always been blogging and tweeting and writing about it.  Maybe you should have wrote him a letter. 

People stop being relevant until they die and then sycophants who want to seem cool based on their “interests” crawl out of nowhere to pretend they always cared.  It’s disgusting.

*In The Week sometime in the last year I read a really melancholy interview from him where he laments only being recognized for Where the Wild Things Are , says that he’s so lonely without his partner and admits to being ready to die.

Liz and I got paid for our services tonight.

Liz and I got paid for our services tonight.

May 7
Kevin visited today and brought me a four leaf clover and a skull.

Kevin visited today and brought me a four leaf clover and a skull.

I didn’t realize how much I missed living with 4+ other people until Justin and Ryan visited for a week. They left today and the house stretches into these empty rooms that never seemed so large and lonely before. I like never coming home to an empty house and having massage circles and laughing until one in the morning with people I truly enjoy. I don’t know if this is a strange form of nostalgia or a new type of wanting.

New laces. Old car mats.

New laces. Old car mats.

Tonight was perfect.

Tonight was perfect.