Mitchell's Mustard Blog

October 12, 2017

Confession of an angry man

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:57 pm

‘I have options’.

I’ve never been the easiest person to get along with, my armour is incredibly hard to penetrate. I don’t give anything away easily, my mind is a locked box of troubles and turbulence, tears and anger.  The inner me wants to see things burn, see myself burn. I’ve been like this since I gave up drugs. I’ve learnt to bite my tongue and swallow the blood. Sometimes I think I fear confrontation but in honest truth I fear never knowing which way it may go, how far I will go. I fear saying or doing things that can’t be taken back. I went through depression for a couple of years and came to terms with my troubles. We shook hands and agreed to stay on our own sides of my skin but every now and then I find myself questioning my decision. Maybe I should embrace my inner anger? I’m not too worried if people don’t like who I am, but I am worried that I won’t like who I will become. To meet me I have a calm and placid facade, jokes and tomfoolery. But like an old penny, I have another side, a side laced with melancholy thoughts, an anger that resides, kicking and screaming to be heard.    

But, just like that old penny I always remind myself that there are two sides, there are options. At any given moment I could go in swinging, frothing at the mouth, but I am thankful that I can compose myself. Walk away with my head held high while I extinguish the fire that licks the back of my teeth. I have options.

I understand that the voice inside that wishes to see my world in flames isn’t going anywhere any time soon, but I do hope that he eventually finds peace in the decisions I make because one thing he will never take from me is the other side of that old penny.

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December 17, 2016

Forever Sleeping

Filed under: A Little Something, Just a Thought — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 12:56 pm

As he lay motionless I placed my hand on his side, never have I felt something so cold and empty. He looked the same, but different. His golden coat looked grey, a misty outline of life laid to it’s lost meaning. My hand missed the rise and fall of his chest as I sat crossed legged next to him. I pulled at the neck of my school jumper as a distraction from the tears that fought my childlike pride. I knew I needed to leave but I wasn’t ready, I hadn’t said everything I needed but I still couldn’t find the words. It’s expected apparently, loss binds you up and you rush to say the right things rather than say what’s actually on your mind. Sitting here in the hallway of my family home, too young to understand how to feel and too naive for what happens next. Brushing my hand over him, feeling his greying coat between my fingers for the last time. Stroking him and rearranging his hair so he looking clean and neat, I didn’t want him to leave feeling unkempt and unloved because he couldn’t do it himself anymore. I leaned forward and rested my head against his, my pride gave way and let my emotions take over.

   “You’ll always be my boy, I love you”.

   Those are the words that I found, those are the words I’m pleased I said, those are the words that will stay with us forever.

   He had given me a childhood of love, a companion, a hairy four legged brother. It was a hard way for a young boy to say goodbye, a vision that will stay forever. I have so many fond memories of his character, his presence. Laying with him for hours with my head on his chest, the power of his existence beating against my ear. He’d follow us like there was something to gain, but in hindsight I think he felt like he had gaining by just being with us, by our side. The one thing I shall never forget . . For us he was our brother, our family member but we had the luxury of other things in our life. We had friends, jobs, school, the outside world. . For him we were everything.

   It was painful, the way you left us. It changed me, made me view things differently. There’s parts of me that wished we had never found you forever sleeping in our hallway, but there’s also parts of me that wouldn’t change a thing.

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.

          

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

July 1, 2015

Mirror

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:58 pm

Pale, the curving contours causing shadows and dull patches. Coloured spheres darting back and forth with a similar rhythm to a pendulum on an old washed out piano. A surface that has seen many elements, masked, but only a prevention from age, there’s no cure as the time passes away. Weathered, yet attractive. Like pebbles skimmed across the surface, leaving ripples and wrinkles of life, but unlike water, the wrinkles become more apparent with no signs of fading or drifting away. With each cycle of the sun, the lines hold firm and claim their place. Each passing he notices something different, a soft façade capable of love and emotion, but sometimes riddled with exhaustion and anguish. Depending on his frame of mind he sees beauty, positivity bringing on the attractive glow. Knowing that negativity will only swallow up the good and drag the insecurities to the surface, only for him to see but is believed all will bear witness. A state of vanity that’s stoked like coals in a raging fire, he knows that growing old gracefully is the only option. Most days he knows what he sees, but on the odd occasion he doesn’t recognise what’s before him, what looks back at him each and every day. He knows it better than most, the shape, the strengths, the weaknesses, but there are days, days that just leave him to question. Today isn’t one of those days, he might be looking older, worn, weathered, with dashes of silver, but that is what’s looking back at him. The mirror doesn’t lie, but the mind does.

February 15, 2015

To rise above my stature.

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:13 pm

I did something big today, I’m not talking humongous, or enormous . . . . but, big enough to make a difference. I know in the grand scheme of things it’s miniscule, a step amongst the stairs. It will only be seen as big in my eyes, that’s because it’s towards my own personal goal. I wanted to tell you about it, it feels selfish, but, I wanted to hear your voice today, I wanted you to tell me that you’re proud of me, tell me that it will all pay off, and that I should keep plugging away, because you believe in me. That’s what I wanted to hear today, but, we don’t always get what we want. I can only keep pushing on, wading through, in hopes of that day coming true. Days like this will always be bigger to me, than it will ever be to you.
You’ve always been that distant silhouette, the shadow in the corner of my eye when I lay alone, encrypted messages I receive from you in the smoke I exhale. Hearing your wisdom in the music I listen too, the meaning is always distorted behind the truth, you’re not here, you never really were.
So, I’ll keep pushing on, keep plugging away, because I know that one day you’ll show up, share this moment with me, whisper in my ear the things I need to know, the things I need to hear.
I’ll never need your approval, I don’t want you to hold my hand, walk me through this path I’ve decided to take. As always, I’d rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. But, to know you’re proud of me will always make me rise above my stature, sometimes we all need that little push.

January 15, 2015

That’s You . .

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:15 pm

Pinch me because you must be my day dream, a glint in my eye, a reason to bring my dimples to the surface, that’s just you.
A completely refreshing change, wind through my hair, a hot water bottle on a winters morning, that’s all you.
A good surprise, a reason for goosebumps, a breeze on a summers day. You’re a knot in my stomach, that’s you.
The first warmth of a sunrise, an uncomfortable blush, my umbrella on a wet winters day, a good nights sleep, It must be you.
The first cup of tea in the morning, a cloudless starry night, a long warm shower, a compliment, that’s you.
A heartbeat in my throat, a prickling under my skin, one of those good thoughts to get you through the day, all you.
A gentle fear, a blooming confidence, the cause of my hair to stand on end, a reason to get carried away, to say yes, always has something to do with you.
A flirtatious smile from across the room, that moment of uncontrollable passion, the scratches across my back, that’s all you.
A moment to repair, a reason to sometimes hold my tongue with others, the occasional anger and suspense, that quiet moment, that can be you.
The unbearable frustration, the abrupt shouting followed by tearful apologies, the waltzing in, and the storming out, that could be you.
The cold feet on my legs, the contagious smile, my motivation to do things right, a reason to forget the bad things. You hold my positivity in your palms, be careful with it, because that’s you.

February 10, 2012

I am never going to be perfect

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:51 pm

I am never going to be perfect

I take my socks off at night because I like the feel of carpet on my feet,

I brush my hand through my hair to keep it from going in my eyes,

I twist the ring on my finger because I feel nervous,

I listen to heavy rock music but I’m not angry at my dad,

I don’t drink a lot of alcohol because once I start I won’t stop,

I don’t smoke because I’m going through a fitness phase,

I moisturise because I want to look after my skin,

I smile at women in the street because I like to see them smile back,

I pull the collar up on my coat as my scarf doesn’t quite do the job,

I don’t wet shave so I don’t look 10 years younger,

I listen to my iPod when I walk because I like music not because I’m anti social,

I don’t find myself attracted to blonde women as much as I do brunette,

I have lied to get myself out of trouble but who hasn’t,

I read as I find it more entertaining than television,

I don’t eat breakfast even though it’s the most important meal of the day or so they say,

I want to give everyone advice but I can’t take my own,

I spend more time worrying than I do achieving,

I enjoy catching up with old friends but I dislike talking about what I’ve been up to,

I give money to charity every month but it never feels like enough,

I get angry but I haven’t got a violent bone in my body,

I read people before I interact,

I blush if you put me on the spot,

I don’t care what anyone things of me 50% of the time,

I think arguments are healthy but petty arguments annoying,

I refuse to open up to just anyone,

I think I’m fair but I know I’m stubborn,

I like tomatoes but not keen on tomato sauce,

I am not stupid but I talk a lot of shit,

I will never give up pushing you if I believe in you,

I will always believe there is good in everyone until proven different,

I like to feel scared as it makes me feel alive,

I will only ever be perfect in my parents eyes,

I am only human.

December 13, 2011

This is me . . . . . .

Filed under: Just a Thought — Tags: , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 8:47 pm

If I were to say I was lost that wouldn’t be the whole truth, only because I don’t really know where I’m heading. The only things I do know are how I feel at the time you ask me. I have no shame to admit I wear my heart on my sleeve but the cuff is becoming worn from where I chew from nerves. I find quality in most people I know, if I didn’t then I would have probably already forgotten your name. I’m an entertainer but I’m quiet to start while I suss you out, I’ll give you creases down your spine while I read you, watch you and understand you. I’ll listen to you, take what you have to say in and process it in the way I must. I have a weakness in strength which will always be my hold up; I’m a sucker for the story of a broken wing in this life. If I can help you I will be at the front of the queue, I’ll hold the map and point for your satisfaction. I’m patient but I have my odd days where you are just not quick enough for me. I am successful, powerful and creative but I’m floating around in a world where that isn’t needed. I have great taste in women but sometimes they leave a bitter taste on my tongue, I can love you for ten minutes or ten years. I’m a work horse that’s looking for more weight on my shoulders, I’ll do it for me, you, them but they will never appreciate only dictate. I communicate, delegate, I try not to be early when I fornicate. I don’t smile a lot, not because I’m unhappy but because that’s how my face is. I laugh, cry, sulk, cheer and enjoy you in every way that I can. I am only human but I will always expect more from myself because that’s up to me, I expect the worst but enjoy the best. This is me . . . . . .

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