Mitchell's Mustard Blog

September 23, 2016

The things I would tell a younger me

  • Don’t start smoking . . It may seem like everyone else is doing it but smoking will stay with you longer than most of those people.
  • Be yourself . . I wasn’t happy with who I was until I reached my 30s, it wasn’t too late but I could have been happier earlier.
  • Not everything your parents tell you is true . . They want the best for you but sometimes their opinion can make your playground smaller.
  • Be respectful of others feelings . . Everyone has a personal battle and some of your actions can affect others in ways you couldn’t imagine.
  • Appreciate the people close to you . . One day they won’t be there anymore and the things unsaid will haunt you.
  • If you believe in something, fight for it . . If you let it slip through your fingers then chances are you didn’t care about it that much.
  • ‘There’s always tomorrow’. . In most cases that’s bullshit, you’ll only keep putting it off, get it done!
  • Learn to agree to disagree as early as possible . . Everyone has a different opinion on things, most aren’t worth falling out over.
  • Some days you’ll feel like you’re alone, you’re not. . Talk to someone, open up and trust people. Your pride can take the day off.
  • Stop shaving . . You look much better with a beard. Stop complaining about the itchy stage, man the fuck up.
  • Don’t fear doctors and dentists. . They’re here to help you (and make you skint). Your health should be a main priority.
  • Don’t be negative . . Stay away from negative people and energy, that shit is incredibly  contagious. Don’t be part of the chain!
  • Drugs . . Do what you have to do, just be safe. Don’t be peer pressured into taking anything you’re not sure about. You can easily find yourself in a black hole that will chew you up and spit you out.
  • Learn a new language, or musical instrument . . You will try to learn both later in life and find them both near impossible.
  • Never think any idea is too big. . If you want it, go for it. If you fail then at least you have tried, that’s better than most. Shoot for the stars!
  • Nothing good comes easy. . If you want something to work then you have to be willing to roll your sleeves up and work for it.
  • Balance your work and personal life. . There is a fine line between the two and it can tip either way. Do you work to live? Or live to work?
  • Be polite. . Just because a lot of people around you have no manners, doesn’t mean that you should act the same way. Two wrongs do not make a right.
  • When your Grandma is ill, go see her more often. . Say the things you want to say, hold her hand, tell her you love her. Saying it to a hole in the floor isn’t quite the same.
  • Research tattooists properly. . Have a good look around before you settle on a tattooist or you’ll find out halfway through your second tattoo that the tattooist line work is a little off because he has a glass eye!
  • Don’t pretend to be something you’re not. . Or you’ll find that the people who befriend you or fall in love with you don’t actually know you. Don’t lie to them and don’t lie to yourself.
  • Girls that like bad boys. . Don’t even bother! You might have your father’s mind and mouth but you have your mother’s heart and emotion. You will never fall under the ‘badboy’ category.  
  • Don’t get too involved in others bullshit. . Be supportive but be careful or their bullshit will eventually become your bullshit. You have enough weight on your shoulders, you don’t need theirs as well.
  • And finally. . Believe in yourself. Don’t put yourself down, there’s plenty of other people out there that will do that for you! Be kind to yourself, and for god sake smile more.    

November 20, 2015

The Junkie Boneyard

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 3:19 pm

I will always remember the day I decided to turn a corner . .

 

The air was so heavy I could taste it, a mixture of mould and the unkept. The room was dark and dank, a patchwork of plaster and brick on the walls, urban artistry that occurs only from being unloved. The only thing that broke the silence was the creaking of ropes that held up the hammock I was laying on. On further inspection, this hammock was about five foot from the ground and held up by pulleys connected to two of the walls across the corner of the room. God only knows how it was holding my weight, also I’m hoping he might know how I got here, because I had no clue. In fear of moving too much I carefully checked my surroundings. To my right I could see the room was littered with cushions, candles, and sporadic limbs protruding and entwined with sleeping bags. Hoping these limbs are still attached to their bodies. To my left was a window, a battered and ripped blind masked the sunlight from outside. I could see dust dancing in the rays of light that beamed through the cracks. The window ledge was covered in dust, burnt out candles, spilt wax, and the one main thing that caught my attention, a bloody hand print. ‘Where the fuck am I?’ I thought to myself.

   I had been wearing the same clothes for 3 days, my skin felt like it had forgotten about it’s love affair with water. My jeans clammy from sweat, my skin sore where my clothes had started to pinch. My mouth was dry, my nostrils on fire, whether that was from substance abuse or breathing in the close encounters of the room, I wasn’t sure. Craving fresh air and a warm shower to wash away the loathing, I needed to move.

   Before testing the strength of the hammock I looked underneath to make sure if I did fall, I wouldn’t be landing on something or someone. There wasn’t even anything I could use to climb down onto for a safe dismount, there was no way I could do this quietly or gracefully. I lay there for a moment trying to execute a plan in my mind, I didn’t want to find myself in a position where I’d have to converse with another human being, I just wanted out. In one swift movement I was sat upright with my legs dangling below me. If I gently eased myself off the hammock I felt like I could land quietly with great precision, like a ninja. Oh how I was wrong. After breaking what could have been 4 glasses of water, knocked over a couple of candles, kicked a metal tin across the room, and standing on someone’s hand, I had successfully caused the room to stir. All the movement under the sleeping bags and cushions played games with my mind, I felt like I was in a scene from the movie Tremors, the floor looked like it was moving, I panicked, I did what every straight laced mind wouldn’t do, rather than run I sat down cross legged and closed my eyes. For a fly on the wall view this would have been quite amusing, the floor moving and crashing like waves around me as I sat cross legged in the middle, eyes closed while humming to myself to find the calm inside.

   I don’t know how much time had passed, but the room was deadly quiet again, and my heart wasn’t trying to leave my chest. Looking around me I could see all sorts of drug paraphernalia, the ones that caused me to think long and hard about my current circumstances were the used hypodermic needles that littered the floor. There was a fine line between a bohemian drug haven and a junkie boneyard, this was a glimpse into the latter and I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the smell, taste, and feeling of this room was. But I knew I didn’t want it to be part of my life. My current lifestyle was hanging above my head like a noose, so the decision was easy to make. With this new found motivation, I got up, I found the door, and I got out. I remember stepping out into the sun, feeling warmth. I walked up the path and turned back to look at the house. I had never been there before, and in more ways than one, I have never been there since.                   

No turning back.

          

May 5, 2015

On the pull like a plastic gangster

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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.

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