Mitchell's Mustard Blog

July 14, 2016

His Loving Touch

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 3:09 pm

“Fuck. . . I’m sorry” he yelled.

The words that echoed around the walls as she lay looking up at a crack in the ceiling, it wasn’t the only thing damaged in this house. His voice had changed so much over the years, it had lost it’s edge of calm, of love, and reassurance. It had become angry, just like him. Soon after it would turn to desperation while she cried nursing the new trophy of their altercation. The kind of trophy you didn’t want on show, hidden under her make up rather than proud on the mantle piece. This had become her life. Another day, another bruise. She was strong, had built up a tolerance to his knuckles. But this time was different, the type of knock that puts your world on it’s side, pulling you into a plume of darkness, the ones you have to wake up from.

“I didn’t mean it, darling. I didn’t. . . It was an accident” he pleaded.

She flinched from his skin, she could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores. This smell had become resident in their household, a long time gone were the scent of flowers and peace. She stay laid where she landed, he collapsed back onto the sofa. His presence of anger turned to adolescence, holding his troubled mind in his damaged hands.

“You have to forgive me, my love” he begged.

She had never feared him before, she knew the telltale signs as to when she should keep her distance, but never actually feared him. But she lay there fearing the next moment, the next day, and the next time his anger touched her skin. Her nausea could have been from concussion, realisation, or their unborn child.

“Help me, please help me” he sobbed.  

The thing she feared the most was that she didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t want to be anywhere else either.    

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February 29, 2016

She Got That From Her Mother

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 9:30 pm

It was either the nausea, or the pain streaming through his head that woke him. Before he opened his eyes he knew things weren’t okay. With all the telltale signs around him, it was his gut feeling that put him in panic mode. Knowing he was awake but feeling like he was dreaming, he would pinch himself but movement was limited. Frustrated that his body was ignoring his commands, like a child with no control. His lungs rebelling as his chest squeezed tight, looking for the biting point, the line of no return. Finding it hard to concentrate, like distracted adolescence. The pain, enclosed breathing space, a loud humming from a distance. All the things playing hide and seek with his senses added to his confused train of thought. His mind jumping back and forth, current to past. The uncomfortable seat he was slouched in, the smile on his daughter’s face. The fear of opening his eyes, his wife holding his hand.

Feeling his chest start to pulse, liquid leaving his mouth and nose. It felt like a memory, but the realisation kicked in with the damp feeling in his lap. Is this a dream? If so, he wanted to wake up now. He felt guilty, confused because he didn’t know what for. Feeling his throat wheeze reminded him of his father, he had smoked for years against everyone’s complaints and concerns, his father’s whistle. The memory stuck with him while he slipped deeper into the dark. Remembering the anguish across her face, the sound of his daughter crying his name as he left. Tears found their way down his face through sealed eyes, his nose burning.

You only regret making a decision once it’s too late, no energy to turn back time. His life slipping away through his pores. He remembered attaching the pipe to the exhaust of the car, taking a look at life outside before he closed the garage door and sealed himself in. His mind was fighting but his body refused to react. Fatigued, frightened, alone. His final thought was of his daughter, she was beautiful, strong. She got that from her mother.   

October 11, 2015

Bricks and Mortar

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:36 pm

Dear you,

The reflection of the mirror never pays you justice. I sit there and watch as you get ready, knowing that you just can’t be replicated. Like that of a picture, beautiful, but never able to compete with the real spectacle. The glow, the desire, the overall being. I don’t know if this is real, so many questions. But none important enough to stop me admiring your presence. Believing in the tomorrow, the stars may not be aligned, but I’m working on that. I’ll roll my sleeves up and build the ideal setting. I’ll dig the tunnel, fix the bridge, pull your boat ashore. We are the river, not the drift wood. I’m not one for coasting, as long as I have strength, I’ll hold you high because I want to show you the sights. I have no interest in being your history, your regret, your once was. There’s no future in that, directionally driven and I wasn’t built with a reverse gear. Not born for games, the only match I’m looking for is one you can ignite, hold it under my heart so you can see me for who I am. In fear of the burn, but not enough to stop me from playing with fire. ‘Home is where your heart is’ they say, and I want you to be my bricks and mortar. Like a kite on a windy day, letting you down isn’t an option. We may dip, a little sway here and there, but there’s always the strength to bloom in the sky.
Because of you, I know that romance isn’t dead.

Me

September 1, 2015

I’m in my 30’s, if I’m not happy with who I am now, I never will be.

Filed under: Just a Thought — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 3:03 pm

‘I’m in my 30’s, if I’m not happy with who I am now, I never will be’ . . If you know me well, then there’s a high chance that you’ve heard these words come out of my mouth. I’ve always been a little different, a little bohemian. I get that from my father. It’s taken years for me to place it, an extrovert in my appearance, but introvert in new surroundings. In my 20’s, to be different, was to be judged. Especially when it comes to appearance. Growing up, I wanted to blend into the shadows, the faceless, in fear of being picked and pulled apart by those who seemed to preside. I’m not sure whether it’s now more acceptable to be yourself, which unfortunately I don’t think is true, or I’ve just grown to not care what others think. I remember a time when my confidence was lower than my heels, I’d be in a social gathering, surrounded by the local who’s who, generally an uncomfortable environment for me to be involved. I would hear someone laugh behind me and automatically think that they were talking and joking at my expense, I’d become anxious, reserved, and find that I would excuse myself from the rest of the evening. It wasn’t long after that that I’d excuse myself from the whole experience all together. The older I got, my confidence grew, to become who I wanted to be. I realised that if people wanted to have a negative opinion about me being comfortable in my own look, then . . I’d be comfortable and they can have their opinion, but that’s all it is, an opinion. I laugh it off now, ignore the comments, because negativity breeds on negativity.
Yes . . You might think I have a shit beard. Yes . . You might think I look stupid wearing skinny jeans tucked into boots. And yes . . You might think that I’m a blazer wearing wanker. But, I’m really not that bothered what you think. Full points on calling it a blazer and not a jacket though, well done.

One thing you can’t stop is that people around you will always have an opinion, and some will like to voice it. The one thing you can stop is giving a fuck what they think, you are who you are, be proud of that.

July 30, 2015

The Gentleman Section – Words

Filed under: The Gentleman Section — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 11:10 am

Words. Words are just fucking words that fill the silence unless it’s complemented with actions. Hand in hand like that of your childhood sweetheart, from the early age you need to understand that words can make you, and break you. Your words don’t always work out. People in your life rely on the actions that fulfil that verbal contract. That word, promise, it’s old and overused by too many. Washed, worn, and reused until it’s tainted and tatty. Don’t promise something unless you are committed to fulfilling it.
Be a man of your word, a man of honor and trust. Don’t use your words to get you out of a tight spot, use your words so that you never know where the tight spot may be. When you tell people what you think they want to hear, the only person you’re kidding in the room is yourself. To sell yourself out like that, no one will trust you if you can’t trust yourself to say what you think. As I said, words are just the façade. You have to be able to back it up, live it, believe in it.
Telling the truth may hurt, cause issues, but in the long run after the burn has subsided respect will always shine through. In no way am I saying you should just tell everyone one around you your opinion, that’s a whole different bag of ‘Fuck yous’. People don’t need to be told they’re fat, ugly, or boring . . don’t be rude! When it comes to having your opinion in a discussion that involves you, hold your own, but don’t be disrespectful. We all have different beliefs, visions, and feelings. A gentleman can always agree to disagree and move on.
Don’t raise your voice with stern words, stay calm or you’ll say something you’ll later regret. We’re all guilty of raising our voice when we’re passionate about something, but save it for the good passion, the ones that are followed by a high five or your very own victory dance . . . don’t deny it, we’ve all got one.
Words are just fucking words, or they could be something that people will rely on. It’s your choice.

May 5, 2015

On the pull like a plastic gangster

Michael_Carroll_210230a

Picture this – My partner and myself are just stepping out of our local supermarket with the evenings to-and-fro ideal dinner ingredients, bags in the basket of the city bikes, just about to peddle off home when a couple of plastic gangsters walk past. One of them spots my partner as she’s positioning her sunglasses, ready to peddle. Suddenly, his slumped hooded head, foot dragging, intimidating stare characteristics all changed. The transformation happened in a blink of an eye. He stopped in his tracks, and everyone else’s tracks I might add, his pigeon chest was puffed out and became more apparent through (what could have been) his Kappa plastic coated jacket. His facial expression went from one of intimidation to what could have been uncomfort? His chin held high, sucking the inside of his cheek like he was practising his finale at a local parks gurning competition. There could have even been a grunt thrown in there as well, but I couldn’t hear it over my chuckling. First thing to remember from this situation, people. don’t laugh at plastic gangsters, they don’t like it. Anyway, within a split second, he had become what I can only describe as a infantile testosterone filled chimp with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on my partner. As he stood there, working on his best ‘come to bed/I’m not sure if I’ve shit myself’ eyes, a kind of pouty-gurn-like facial expression, an arched back so that his groin was at the forefront of his existence. To him, he looked like he had game. To all the passers by, he looked like he was having a stroke, but no one wanted to ask if he was okay just in case it was a scam and would end up with their wallet suddenly missing. After all the effort he had made for her, to look like someone had placed a cattle prod up his sheriffs badge, after all that . . She hadn’t even noticed this whole transformation happening in front of our eyes. Whilst cycling, she was intrigued as to why I was giggling to myself, so I explained all on our peddle home.
Lesson to be learnt by this, if you think you have game, that probably means you haven’t!! It’s been a few years since the caveman pulling technique worked, I’m not sure the opposite sex are keen on being dragged anywhere by their hair anymore. If you want to catch someone’s attention, talk to them. Don’t stand there trying your best rejected boy band pose, it doesn’t work, you must have seen Zoolander, right?

March 31, 2015

When was the last time you complimented someone?

Filed under: Just a Thought — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 12:19 pm

I’m no stranger to the occasional passing comment about the way I look, or especially the way I dress. When I say a ‘passing comment’, I don’t mean a compliment. It’s funny how people mainly voice their opinion when it’s negative, is this who we’re becoming? When was the last time you gave someone a compliment? It’s amazing how far a few nice words can go, can change someones view on the whole day.
I remember quite a few years ago, I was sat on a bus and noticed that someone had scribbled ‘You are beautiful’ on the back of the seat in front of me. The words looked worn, old, but they still held the strength of the day they were first written. These words were obviously penned for someone in mind, I hope they got them. It was strange, but those words made me smile. I know they weren’t written for me, and that wasn’t the point, it was the fact someone had written those words to make someone feel beautiful. It’s amazing how a couple of words can cause such an uplift. From that day forth, I made it a conscience effort to compliment, whether it was written, or verbally. To my loved ones, or even strangers that I have a conversation with. Something so small, yet something so powerful. Obviously there are boundaries with this, you can’t just walk up to a complete stranger and tell them they have a cracking arse! If you could, we’d all be doing it. Don’t forget that the main point of giving a compliment is to mean it, don’t just say it if you think it’s going to get you brownie points or it means nothing! A compliment should never be fuelled by personal gain.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me well, I read a lot of books. What isn’t well known is that once I’m finished with them, before I take a select few to the charity shop I write a little motivational note in the front, such as ‘Today is your day’, ‘Smile’ or like the one that made me smile on the bus ‘You are beautiful’.
The importance behind this is how powerful words can be, something so simple, can mean something so amazing. But it can work both ways, words can also be painful, and vicious, so watch your tongue!
If you always have a negative opinion, you’ll only ever see negative results . . . I think it’s about time you went out and complimented someone.

February 10, 2015

Milestone

After just ending a phone call to my mother, wishing her and my father a happy 42nd wedding anniversary, I had asked her how they had managed 42 years? She had simply replied, “you work hard, and you make sure you laugh a lot”. With deep honesty, I hope I hit that milestone, but, this had got me thinking.

Do we work hard enough at our relationships? Or do we sometimes find that we simply quit at the first hurdle because we’ve forgotten what pulled us together in the first place?

Temptation is on every corner, on every page, there to shake you awake every morning. It has become part of our everyday life, but we all know that the grass isn’t always that much greener once you cross that bridge. In bad times, I think you have to sit back, look at your partner and remind yourself of the things that you cherish about your relationship. You’ve worked to get to where you are today, is it worth giving up, or are you afraid of a little hard work?
I can’t help but think that the problems we all have in our relationships are made by a lack of honesty, it can only be as complicated as we make it, right? Obviously, not all relationships are meant to work, but can you walk away knowing that you tried? None of us go into a relationship thinking that it isn’t going to work . . . What caused that first ignition of passion? What ties you together?
Yeah, I know it’s easy for me to put a couple of words on a page to try and sum up relationships, I know all relationships are different due to different circumstances . . But, the one thing that ties them all together, they all start the same . . . with two people attracted to each other, willing to push all boundaries to make it work.
I’ve walked away from a relationship without a second thought, and I know that I’ve also been on the receiving end of that too. The older I’ve become, I’ve realised that I could have tried harder.

If you’re in the midst, or you’ve just managed to shake off a nutter, then please ignore all of the above. We’ve all been there, good luck with that.

As I said, I hope I hit that milestone. Sometimes it seems a little doubtful . . . But, that won’t stop me from trying!

February 4, 2015

The Grand Misconception.

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:49 pm

Ladies, there is, and probably always will be an unwritten rule – a man never chooses a woman, he can only show you that his interest and availability is there, and as much as most of us men would hate to admit it, the decision generally falls onto your lap. But with that, that doesn’t mean that the effort should only lay claim to the male. We all know that the instruction manual for the opposite sex will never be published in our lifetime, if I took a guess, the author is probably battling their sixth divorce and feeling quite like a fraud.
There is a grand misconception that us men do not discuss our likes, wants, and dislikes between each other, well, we do. Whether it’s in the gym changing room, the pub, or even a chance meeting in the magazine aisle in Tesco. We talk about you. From the women that have crossed our path, or the ones that are yet to do so. I’m not talking about the childlike ‘I’d do her!’ comment from the prepubescent jock, I mean the conversations that happen between like minded, early thirty somethings that have slayed their man mountain ego through their twenties and have come out the other side as a gent.
I thought I’d take this opportunity to give you a heads up, I’m not taking sides, I’m not selling out, just giving you something to think about.

We’re not as shallow as you think we are. Bold statement, I know. Nothing ever just comes down to looks. Yes, the way you look will always be our first impression, but if we’ve made that effort to open a conversation with you, that means we want to know who you are. Please don’t ever think that the way you look on that particular evening holds precedence over confidence and the ability to hold a good conversation. It’s always nice to have someone attractive on your arm but if your social skills are as strong as a chocolate teapot . . you’ll only ever be an attractive someone on the arm, nothing more. We want to be able to take you to a friend’s wedding and be in sound mind that if we nip to the mens room, or the bar, we don’t have to rush back to our ‘rabbit in headlights’ plus one.
If we’re dating you, amongst other things, we’re attracted to the way you look, so easy on the make up please, love. We all love a woman who takes care of her appearance, but there is a thick line between looking good, and looking like Boy George, yet you sometimes still try to cross it. Waking up next to your natural self, shows that you are confident around us, your confidence gives us confidence. . . . We want to get to know all of you, and we won’t judge. Please don’t misconstrue the point I’m trying to make, I’m not saying don’t wear any make up, as I said before, we all love a woman who takes care of her appearance. I’m saying, the less make up, the better. And don’t be coy about us seeing you without.
A high majority of us men find women that train attractive, whether you’re the woman in the gym on the cross trainer in the morning, or out pounding the pavement at night. Yes, you might be all red faced and sweaty, to us, we see the confidence, the discipline, the motivation to get up and make that personal effort to better yourself, or to keep in shape. This shows us that you are willing to go out and put effort behind making a difference, and while having that attitude with training, in most cases means that you also have that attitude with all aspects of your life. Next time he asks you to train together, run together, go to a class together, don’t over think it. Just do it. He’s not going to think about your level of fitness, whether you look red and out of breath. He just wants to share that motivation with you.
If you’re on a night out with the girls, on a work lunch, or just popping to the shops, and you see someone who interests you, don’t wait for them to come and chat you up, act on it. There’s a chance they haven’t spotted you so don’t automatically think they’re not interested. That confidence will speak volumes. We are the same as you, we all fear rejection, we all have our own insecurities, and because of this we all have missed opportunities. The fact that you have approached us is attractive in itself. The idea that a woman should never approach a man is outdated. Also, if you are approached by someone and you’re not interested, don’t be a dick about it. Just think of the courage that person has had to build just to come over and talk. Put yourself in their shoes. Being polite costs you nothing.

Above all, just be yourself. You don’t want someone to fall for the person you’re trying to be. We’re pretty simple beings, be honest, be open, and if you have any sense . . never sleep on an argument, a man full of doubts is a dangerous man.

February 1, 2015

For when the blanket of expectation falls . . .

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:35 pm

To chase a fools gold, the myth found at the end of a rainbow, making the journey just to kick yourself as the end destination keeps moving, grasping and clasping to catch a rogue leaf in a windy city, the key is knowing when to give up. The longing for the false hope you would receive from the thing your mind laces with fortune and future, only to realise that your illusionist mind works for the enemy, and what you thought you wanted, doesn’t exist. The cloak and dagger tales that are spun for your mind, to hold them in the cobwebs that accommodate the corners, waiting to be devoured or disturbed and blown away. Sometimes we are oblivious to what’s in front of us, It can only ever be as complicated as you make it, and by all standards, it seems that complicated is key. To know that you want what you can’t have is a step towards affliction, a step towards addiction, but a huge stride to a solution, lacing up and stepping out in a different direction than before, a strange but true horizon, an unfamiliar future, but a future none the less. Let those cobwebs be blown away by the refreshing breeze of a better day, a realistic sunrise, turn so the history of shadows surrender and lay down at your heels, bask in the knowledge that what’s in front of you will only ever guide you, take my hand, tomorrow will be successful, the day will guide and never dictate, to pull on the corners of this existence together and wrap it around us like a magicians trick, for when the blanket of expectation falls to the floor, we will have left it all behind, only to return when we choose.

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