Plain and simple New Years. That time of year when people actually try to make something new of themselves. I find it kinda funny considering they had 11 other months to do that. I only say this because I my self am one of them. New Years Resolution Number 24, 000 and something. Quit smoking cigs or stop drinking or stop doing some other destructive thing. Oh, who am I kidding I'll try for a month or two maybe three then it'll be a quick oops that gets me all over again. I like to call this New Year's Digressing.
Bullshit aside I like the idea of partying your ass off to ring in the new year. A change of the inevitable. I have set up my goals for the new year and they're pretty simple . Stop smoking cigarettes and stop drinking alcohol. Plain and simple. These two things are the cause of both so much pleasure and so much pain so, I'll see what else is out there and I don't mean hard drugs. This should be fun because I've never really tried to actually quit something I've always half ass'd it. Let's see what an A in effort can get me.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Pretty Things and Thoughts
"The simplest things are the best things.". That's something that I hold dear to my heart. A saying that I live by. For example Christmas this year. While everyone else was scurrying to get the best gifts from here to freaking everywhere I'm just sitting in my room with a case of colored pencils, crayons, and paints making suitable cards. The word cheap is an insult to me. I'm a man who believes in something more than material matter and from the reaction I got from my family members I'm pretty sure I hit the mark somewhere.
I am told constantly that I'm a beautiful person and I often reply to that with a gentle smile because I feel that beauty is with the eye of the beholder. I see a lot of things as beautiful and I guess the things that I see as such see me just the same. I want to study this more but it seems pretty obvious. You think something's beautiful it probably thinks you are too. I should elaborate on what beautiful means to me. Oh, I like this word.
Beautiful and what it means to me is a deep understanding of the true mechanics of whatever you are beholding. Now, do you see why I gently smile at being called beautiful. It's funny really and very sweet. It's a tiny thing with pretty meaning. A thought that is gently chained to the way something is. I really do like the word though.
Friday, December 26, 2014
A Good Guide
Hey. I'm Martel. 24 years old and couldn't feel any younger at times and older at others. I've been meaning to make a blog or something, but like a lot of things in my life I kinda just run right past it and leave it on the way lines only to catch its attention moments too late. That was me digressing.
Forgive me in advance I am horrible at this proper English and spelling crap. Honestly, I say, "Try to say what you mean and try to mean what you say. So, I'll say this. I don't care about putting anything that I write or say in proper order I'm just going to say it. I'll end my second digression now.
The title Mary Jane's Hand is not one bit religious, but plant related actually. I find that under her influence things are a little more interesting. Ranging from intensely amazing to down right scary. Actually I won't say scary just mentally interesting for the mentally aware. I love playing with words like that. Kind of makes me feel free if only verbally.
I want to saw something about my father, but there really isn't much to say. He's one of those dad's who you see a few times every several years or not at all. Does this bother me? Yeah, it would if I counted my self normal. Thank goodness I've never had. Now my mother there's a good tale. A very hardworking woman. She fits the stereotypical African-American mom mold. 4 kids that she's basically raised from nothing and I do mean nothing. Making a grand a month means the world to her. It means silent tears for nothing to me. She proclaims having money is the only way to live and I say it's because of money that people are forced to live the way they live. We for sure butt heads quite a bit. I do respect her though and even my father for some reason. Guess a child just wants to love it's parents right?
Back to just me. My current situation involves feelings that are literally driving me crazy. I apologize because it involves a little love and perhaps a lot more. No for sure a lot more. Cut right to it. I think I am either madly in love with a woman I consider my best friend or I am as a pal of mine called it, "In lust" with her. I ask my self, "Hey, Martel. How do you feel about her?" and a hurricane of feelings just pop up. I didn't have these feelings from the first meeting I saw her or anything and in fact the second or perhaps third time I hung out with her I didn't remember her at all but she remembered me. I think affectionately or perhaps sarcastically? I'm going with the second. Now, these feelings stem from a rather weird drunken and drug induced history that we share. It's trying just to put all this together in this blog but here goes nothing. This bomb does need to be dropped.
I was in love with someone before her. Someone who every step of the way I constantly tried to impress and love and make smile because that was what she was and did for and to me constantly, but due to a series of drunken, molly licking, and couch fucking nights I lost my way to her and creep'd her out. I thought a drunken love poem would be awesome. Damn was I wrong. After I lost her to my stupidity love number 2 comes along a little stronger. No longer dating any of my friends but still still in bed with a few. Looking back I was just wickedly attracted to her and the alcohol and drugs that make you happy did not help one bit. So, with this put together you'd think love number 2 and I hocked up. The answer to that is yes and no. It's a complicated tale that I'll say with complete honesty I just wanted her body and nothing else. I paid for this debauchery with a great chunk of her trust and I'm sure others. It's something that haunts me everyday that I'll stop at nothing to fix. Even while knowing that there really isn't a way to fix molestation or rape. I know I just have to live with it and do my damned best to never repeat such a thing. Now, you'd think love number 2 is a distant thing right? Not at all and I think this is what amazes me. She is quite possibly the best bull-shitter I've ever met or she genuinely likes me and appreciates me. It is baffling at times but I make an effort to not parade my own scar from our twisted little past. Perhaps, now that I'm typing this she's doing the same thing perhaps.
This type of stuff if you would of caught me maybe like 3-4 years ago I'd probably tell you, "I'm soooo in love." and now it's more like, "What the fuck is this feeling?" it's maddening. I've come to the conclusion that I'm infatuated with love number 2. Doesn't help that she just broke up with her cheating boyfriend and it didn't help that I was drunk when she told me. All the little rose tinted ideas that floated in my head at that moment. Digressing is fun.
Forgive me in advance I am horrible at this proper English and spelling crap. Honestly, I say, "Try to say what you mean and try to mean what you say. So, I'll say this. I don't care about putting anything that I write or say in proper order I'm just going to say it. I'll end my second digression now.
The title Mary Jane's Hand is not one bit religious, but plant related actually. I find that under her influence things are a little more interesting. Ranging from intensely amazing to down right scary. Actually I won't say scary just mentally interesting for the mentally aware. I love playing with words like that. Kind of makes me feel free if only verbally.
I want to saw something about my father, but there really isn't much to say. He's one of those dad's who you see a few times every several years or not at all. Does this bother me? Yeah, it would if I counted my self normal. Thank goodness I've never had. Now my mother there's a good tale. A very hardworking woman. She fits the stereotypical African-American mom mold. 4 kids that she's basically raised from nothing and I do mean nothing. Making a grand a month means the world to her. It means silent tears for nothing to me. She proclaims having money is the only way to live and I say it's because of money that people are forced to live the way they live. We for sure butt heads quite a bit. I do respect her though and even my father for some reason. Guess a child just wants to love it's parents right?
Back to just me. My current situation involves feelings that are literally driving me crazy. I apologize because it involves a little love and perhaps a lot more. No for sure a lot more. Cut right to it. I think I am either madly in love with a woman I consider my best friend or I am as a pal of mine called it, "In lust" with her. I ask my self, "Hey, Martel. How do you feel about her?" and a hurricane of feelings just pop up. I didn't have these feelings from the first meeting I saw her or anything and in fact the second or perhaps third time I hung out with her I didn't remember her at all but she remembered me. I think affectionately or perhaps sarcastically? I'm going with the second. Now, these feelings stem from a rather weird drunken and drug induced history that we share. It's trying just to put all this together in this blog but here goes nothing. This bomb does need to be dropped.
I was in love with someone before her. Someone who every step of the way I constantly tried to impress and love and make smile because that was what she was and did for and to me constantly, but due to a series of drunken, molly licking, and couch fucking nights I lost my way to her and creep'd her out. I thought a drunken love poem would be awesome. Damn was I wrong. After I lost her to my stupidity love number 2 comes along a little stronger. No longer dating any of my friends but still still in bed with a few. Looking back I was just wickedly attracted to her and the alcohol and drugs that make you happy did not help one bit. So, with this put together you'd think love number 2 and I hocked up. The answer to that is yes and no. It's a complicated tale that I'll say with complete honesty I just wanted her body and nothing else. I paid for this debauchery with a great chunk of her trust and I'm sure others. It's something that haunts me everyday that I'll stop at nothing to fix. Even while knowing that there really isn't a way to fix molestation or rape. I know I just have to live with it and do my damned best to never repeat such a thing. Now, you'd think love number 2 is a distant thing right? Not at all and I think this is what amazes me. She is quite possibly the best bull-shitter I've ever met or she genuinely likes me and appreciates me. It is baffling at times but I make an effort to not parade my own scar from our twisted little past. Perhaps, now that I'm typing this she's doing the same thing perhaps.
This type of stuff if you would of caught me maybe like 3-4 years ago I'd probably tell you, "I'm soooo in love." and now it's more like, "What the fuck is this feeling?" it's maddening. I've come to the conclusion that I'm infatuated with love number 2. Doesn't help that she just broke up with her cheating boyfriend and it didn't help that I was drunk when she told me. All the little rose tinted ideas that floated in my head at that moment. Digressing is fun.
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