A lot of people have been wondering where I’ve been for the past week and if I’m alright. I’m doing fine, I’ve just been going to work and focusing on my family. I don’t use my instagram or snapchat anymore, so basically this will be my only way of talking to people that I don’t see on a day-to-day basis, except visitations to this site will probably be a couple times a month. At this point, I can honestly say my life has been better now than it has been in the past 4-5 years. All I care about now is doing things that will only improve my life, accomplish the goals I set out for myself, start to move on from the things and people that have been limiting me, and making my name known only for the good that I do and will continue to do in the future. But the cost of having ambition isn’t the most glamorous thing. Mainly being that I have very few friends but many acquaintances, my actions while doing something must always be justified even though it was correct the whole time, my lifestyle isn’t amazing so it’s harder for me to get into a relationship unless the other person knows EXACTLY what they’re getting themself into, and people will always want me to fail. But one thing I’m certain on, is that whether I’m single or not in the next couple years, I know that I’ll eventually be saying goodbye to Hawai’i in search of better horizons. I love this place, but the cost of living is absolutely ridiculous and I need a change of scenery.

People more concerned with other folks lives, when they should be focused on their own first.

I’m drunk, and I work tomorrow morning. Yaaaassssss

justasouthernthing:

shell-tear-your-world-apart:

dippincountryboy:

If she’s having bad day, take her down backroads, pull to the side of the road, and dance to some George Strait. It could make her day much better.

That’s how it’s done

And that my friends, is a man you want to marry.

(via cowboybootsandaisydukes)

BBQ at my house

Me, my coworkers, and a bunch of horseback ladies. Tonight should definitely be a nice change of pace from the usual drinking at the beach park.

please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you

(Source: askpillow, via brianaa-megan)

wawapapi69:

Kinda want to play with your hair kinda want to go down on you for 45 minutes

(via fucking-shititslahni)

sleezed:

If you put your hand on her lower pelvis and put pressure on it while you’re finger fucking her. I promise you she’ll damn near start speaking another language

(via fuckyeahloldemort)

ʎuɹoɥ

(Source: thepureskin, via strivetoyourlimits)

dope-is-my-hustle:

Orange in his Hand

I see two men sweat
at the exit
of the freeway.

One is brown and burnt
from the sun rays
the other is white
with an American Flag
stitched across his trucker hat.

They both wear dirty clothes.
They both burn 
to hold
a little green.

One sells oranges, walking up
and down the street. 
One holds a sign that reads,
“I’m hungry, help me eat.”
I feel for both of them,
but I only admire one.

The one who hands
oranges in bags to tired faces,
who chases cars
for his change,
who counts pennies
as profit
to keep his apartment.

The one whose wife wakes
before sunrise to walk
through Los Angeles streets
yelling “tamales, tamales”
with a 4 year old daughter 
at her side.

The mother who crossed over
4 years earlier so her daughter
wouldn’t have to sell tamales
with a baby at her side.

The father tells his son
never to beg,
but to work hard for the bread.
So the son sells Cheetos
at his high school
and gets called beaner
for not owning 
named brand clothes.
A son who must bring dollars
before good grades
because rent is two weeks late.
A son who will one day hold 
a gun to the head
of a liquor store clerk,
only to remember 
his father’s words.

Mijo, work hard for the bread.

Rent is two weeks late 
so the family
breaks tax laws to make jobs
and they lifts roses to the sky
hoping someone passing by
is falling in love again,
so the family
takes elotes
to the neighborhood projects
hoping the ninos are hungry.

The news says this family is here
to take my job, 
my seat in school, 
my country,
but the only thing they’re taking 
is the risk
of being handcuffed,
broken and deported
in the name of family
in the name of love
in the name of trying 
everything to stay above
the current
and that is why
I can’t help

But to admire the man
with an orange in his hand,
a fireball of hunger in his palm.

I love my people. We are hard workers and we never beg for money. How often do you see a Latino beggar? Exactly, it’s rare. Why? Because we work for our money. If it means selling flowers, corn, fruit, ice cream, whatever it is, we WORK for it. We don’t ask for anything for free. All we want is a better future for our families and we are willing to work for it! So how are you going to say we don’t belong in this country of opportunity when we actually take advantage of that opportunity and WORK for a better life instead of fuckin standing at a corner of a McDonald’s waiting for someone to drop a coin or two into a fuckin cup?

(Source: praxis89, via fuckyodashboard)

Timestamp: 1408944756

dope-is-my-hustle:

Orange in his Hand

I see two men sweat
at the exit
of the freeway.

One is brown and burnt
from the sun rays
the other is white
with an American Flag
stitched across his trucker hat.

They both wear dirty clothes.
They both burn 
to hold
a little green.

One sells oranges, walking up
and down the street. 
One holds a sign that reads,
“I’m hungry, help me eat.”
I feel for both of them,
but I only admire one.

The one who hands
oranges in bags to tired faces,
who chases cars
for his change,
who counts pennies
as profit
to keep his apartment.

The one whose wife wakes
before sunrise to walk
through Los Angeles streets
yelling “tamales, tamales”
with a 4 year old daughter 
at her side.

The mother who crossed over
4 years earlier so her daughter
wouldn’t have to sell tamales
with a baby at her side.

The father tells his son
never to beg,
but to work hard for the bread.
So the son sells Cheetos
at his high school
and gets called beaner
for not owning 
named brand clothes.
A son who must bring dollars
before good grades
because rent is two weeks late.
A son who will one day hold 
a gun to the head
of a liquor store clerk,
only to remember 
his father’s words.

Mijo, work hard for the bread.

Rent is two weeks late 
so the family
breaks tax laws to make jobs
and they lifts roses to the sky
hoping someone passing by
is falling in love again,
so the family
takes elotes
to the neighborhood projects
hoping the ninos are hungry.

The news says this family is here
to take my job, 
my seat in school, 
my country,
but the only thing they’re taking 
is the risk
of being handcuffed,
broken and deported
in the name of family
in the name of love
in the name of trying 
everything to stay above
the current
and that is why
I can’t help

But to admire the man
with an orange in his hand,
a fireball of hunger in his palm.

I love my people. We are hard workers and we never beg for money. How often do you see a Latino beggar? Exactly, it’s rare. Why? Because we work for our money. If it means selling flowers, corn, fruit, ice cream, whatever it is, we WORK for it. We don’t ask for anything for free. All we want is a better future for our families and we are willing to work for it! So how are you going to say we don’t belong in this country of opportunity when we actually take advantage of that opportunity and WORK for a better life instead of fuckin standing at a corner of a McDonald’s waiting for someone to drop a coin or two into a fuckin cup?

(Source: praxis89, via fuckyodashboard)