"Well I've been afraid of changin', because I built my life around you"

Y'know, one could look at the header for this blog and think I'm talking about a woman, but I'm not. Well, she's got a female name, but it ain't no lady.

Mary Jane is the (not so much of a) mystery lady. If you know me well enough, you know how much of a struggle I've had with pot. Y'know what, though? I've come to the conclusion that I don't want to completely erase it from my life. It's calmed me down far more than alcohol ever could. It's relaxed me. It's helped me find sleep when dreams wouldn't come easy.

But, like any addict, I took it too far. Since January, though, I've gained a high degree of control over it. Mary Jane, that dirty whore of the earth, no longer has me wrapped around her finger. I'll always love her, but she's just a booty call to me now.

Speaking of smoking things, it's been ten weeks today since I last had a cigarette. TEN WEEKS. And I went totally cold turkey. While I'd like to say I couldn't feel better, I don't know if I believe it. I've thought about having a cigarette...
every
single
day
since I last had one. Nicotine has had a grasp on me far tighter than any other substance ever did. Then again, it's only ever been weed and ciggies.
But the point is, I still crave a cigarette. I'm sitting here with a cup of tea, and I want a cigarette. Maybe it's because the only time I'd have tea was when I'd get ready to go out for a cigarette with Julie, back during my most recent excursion to St. John's.

The cravings HAVE gotten progressively less annoying, but I promise you beyond a shadow of a doubt they'll never completely go away. I may even sneak another cigarette once or twice before I die. But I hope that whomever I end up with finds out about it and gives me hell. That's the only way I'll ever truly learn.

I'd like to say I won't ever date a smoker, but it's not likely that I'll stick to it. I might end up finding the most special gal in the world, and she could smoke ciggies.
Of course, I'll be sure to try and convince her to quit, but there's no way in hell I'm ever going back to smoking fulltime again.


So about what I was talking about earlier today...
umm...
actually, I can't really remember what I was talking about. I was in a crappy mood. It was just one of those "everybody throw their pity at Matthew Baker" kinda feelings. I have those kinds of days from time to time, as I'm sure you have, and I'm sure your friends, sisters, brothers, parents, blah blah blah, have had, as well. No one's happy all the time.

I try to be. I do my best to be motivational to my friends, but y'know, it'd be nice to have some genuine niceness directed my way sometime soon. That may be a little difficult, because whenever I have conversations with people, I never let on I'm in a shitty mood. That's because I generally don't talk to people that I would care to divulge my mood to, anyway.
There's only a select few people I talk to on a regular basis, and I must say I'm thankful for having them in my life. They make me happy just by being who they are...raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, and all that. You know what I'm talkin' 'bout.
I don't care to name drop, because that always ends up kicking me in the metaphorical nuts.

I'm still reading that Stephen King book the Easter Bunny gave me... it's probably the most important book I now have in my personal library. It's opened up a thousand new doors in the world of writing; doors that I would never have unlocked without King's wisdom. He's long been an inspiration to me, and "On Writing" will now forever be my bible. Actually, there's an exercise he suggested I (not specifically me, but anyone reading the book) do, so keep an eye out in the "Storytime..." blog (found on my profile) over the next couple of days.
The way Mr. King goes on about how to create a story is inspiring. It's uplifting, almost. It gives me hope.
I know that I will eventually have a book published. If I'm a one hit wonder, so be it. But mark my words, I will have a book published before I die.

And I'll see Green Day before I die, too.

What else?
I'm gonna marry a girl that isn't gonna make fun of wrestling. It's one of the few things in my life that I'm truly passionate about. I know it's fake, but so are movies. So are TV shows. I'm not one to take professional wrestling as a serious sport. I know it's meant to be entertainment. It's always been meant to be viewed as entertainment. Jeez, the men and women that give their bodies to this "sport" are just mind-blowing. They sacrifice nearly everything for nearly 80% of the entire year, with no off-season. Wrestling every day takes a toll on one's body.
Again, I offer a quote: (and this isn't the exact wording, but it's close enough)
"For those of us who understand,
no explanation is needed.
For those who don't,
no explanation will do."


Ohhh my... I know I didn't have to defend myself, but sometimes I feel the need to do just that. Wrestling is an important part of who I am as a person now, so anyone I involve myself with in the future has to realize that every Monday night, from 10:30-12:30, I will not be disturbed.

It's funny what writing does for me... I feel like a million bucks now.



But a lot of that has to do with the fact that Andrea Corr's voice is playing over my headset. She's... well... ahhh if I knew how to use HTML, I would post a picture. Some girls swoon for Brad Pitt or George Clooney... I swoon for Andrea Corr.