If you’ve read anything on my blog or have even read the titles, you can narrow down what my type will be. An introverted one for sure. I’ve take the test multiple times and the majority of the time I get INTP. Reading up on it, it’s as if my brain was unfurled right in front of me.
i feel every single failure
Every single missed opportunity
Like bricks they crush my chest as I lay 10 feet in the ground
The reaper wears my face
as well as the brick layer
I went on a date today (I’m writing this at 11:00 PM).
I never know how people are going to react to seeing me in real life. It was a girl I met on Tinder. The first thing on my Tinder profile is my height as to not surprise the ladies when they meet me and notice I am as tall as a middle-schooler.
In every Black person there is the potential to be a very cancerous cloud welling up in there chest.
I feel it in my chest to. Sometimes it climbs up my throat and into the back of my mind, and grips my brain. It forces me to doubt myself; to look at my current failures and equate them to my very identity, an identity I did not have control over in the first place. It meddles with my judgment, consequentially lowering my performance in almost anything I do. It operates like a cloud that’s been hovering over my head since birth but its vice is rooted within my psyche like a virus.
E3 2017, the gaming conference that brings out the biggest names in gaming, is coming to a close for this year. Here are the games I am most excited for in now particular order. (Though, the last one is my favorite.)
Up the amplitude to show an attitude
My boys got dank
But it all starts off with a noise complaint
Break it up, cut the grass, while I’m vibin’ in the cypher
Phony puff, puff laugh
And I might add
From the blaze to the stage, Girls on my ass
Enter carefully because the floor is feeling like a trampoline
The ceiling broke up under us, because of us..
And then the cops came
And shut shit down
And then the cops came. That was a small excerpt from a song called “Cop Scame” made by a hip hop group called Phony Ppl, which is comprised of several Black men.
In this section the artist explains how a noise complaint turns into a situation with the cops. Now that’s what college kids do right? They throw a house party and then the old crotchety neighbor next door (or under them in this case) calls the cops on them.
Here, I complain about how hard it is for an introvert to interface with the world.
Pet peeve of mine: Motivational platitudes/fake enthusiasm/how to be successful videos and/or blogs. (no shade because I follow some here.)
But that is just a personal thing tied to the rest of the stuff I’m going to talk about. I still respect them and read them. But anyway, what I mean by “This is not an introvert’s world” is that you need to like people. You can’t stay in a shell and be successful. You need to be able to woo people and you cannot operate by yourself.