Stoney Discoveries

Well, as any college student knows, exam week is here. I've completed two of my four. I say "completed" because I'm not entirely sure I passed the Organic Chemistry I exam. But I fucking blew my Analytical Physics exam out of the water just now. I don't know how in the fuck it happened. I really don't.

I've been struggling through physics this whole semester because I got behind and stopped doing the homework. When I went to class, I was totally lost and had no clue what my professor was even writing on the board. It should never have gotten to that point, but I've learned my lesson. (Hopefully for the last God damn time.) Anyway, I was kind of uneasy about the exam prior to taking it since I had gotten so far behind and had so much to learn/study in so little time. Because, yes, I am the poster child for Procrastination.

I told myself I'd study this morning before the exam. THIS MORNING BEFORE THE EXAM. Kids start studying weeks in advance for their exams and I study the morning of. Jesus Christ. I may need more help than anticipated. Well of course I didn't get up when I first needed to... eight o'clock rolled around before I could even motivate myself to wake up. But this is where things get weird. There was a tiny bit of green left in the bong. Oh yeah, baby, I hit that. It wasn't enough to get me "high" but it was just enough to buzz. All of a sudden I got super productive. I started instantaneously planning what I was going to do, how I was going to do it and in what order. I turned on the shower to heat up, and while it heated, I flipped on the coffee maker to make coffee while I'm in the shower! Genius. I was making use of every second I had! Then came the studying...

Before I even cracked a book, I packed Marissa (yes, that's my baby in the sexy blue) with a little bit of dank and smoked just enough to get myself to a [2]. At that moment, every physics problem became the most interesting thing! I wanted to find the acceleration of the block down the rough incline! And I did! I was so persistent that I solved every problem I had time for. I killed it. I don't know what happened, but it was awesome.

So I was thinking...

You know how I've said that being high helps living in the moment? (If I haven't, pretend.) Well let me add on to that and also say that it allows you to focus more on anything you want. Think about it. When you're high, you only focus on one thing. I happen to fall to the dark side faster than my companions, so hunger tends to be my focus. But it can be anything, right? What if I made it my school work? Hold on, I might be on to something...

I'm actually very high at this very moment. And I'm typing faster than I usually would. The thoughts are flowing easier, and I find that typing them out is no longer a chore but a pattern of muscle memory that is innate. I mean, shit, I'm sitting next to a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy's and a half-full bong pack. But I was so focused, I continued to write.

Nom nom nom What, you think I'd mention that Jr. BC without taking a bite? You're crazy. (If you don't click that link, I'll be upset.)

I think I may have stumbled on something incredibly amazing. Seriously. I'm going to continue this high-studying and see what happens. Thought: Do I need to be high to take it? Confession: I was when I destroyed my exam this morning.

It's 4:20 somewhere...

WODCAOO

When One Door Closes, Another One Opens #canihashtagthis

Well the semester is essentially over, my fate 90% sealed. And it ain't lookin' purty.

It's happened again. Another semester started well, ended horribly. Change must occur. For starters: stop smoking so much. It's not even that I smoke so much, it's when I smoke. I get baked right after class and then it fucks up my whole day. Have fun trying to do homework coming down from a strong high, five hours later. It's got to stop. Now that my friend (who totally is the poster child for peer pressure) has a job, he isn't always around at that crucial time which is nice.

Okay, okay I know, you came here to read about weed! Well... the shit we have is grrreat!

It has a skunky, citrus-y smell and a tasty smoke. Yummy. Like, I actually want to smoke it to taste it...

In fact I'm too high to conti

Weeds

See? And you thought I'd post like one of those overly-persistent bloggers. Tsk Tsk

My damn joint just went out. Literally I picked it up 10 seconds ago. Damn it.

Anyways, I've starting watching the show Weeds and I think I'm in love. And not just with the show. I'm in love with the main character, Nancy. Hahaha She's the most badass badass and she's oddly attractive for her age. Back to my point, the show is wicked! It's probably the best stoner show ever! It's about a mom, who's husband just passed away, and trying to support herself and her children by selling weed. Sounds sketch, but it's the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen. 7 Seasons to go... and counting...

I got marvelously high off this tiny-ass, baggy-bottom shit. But when you think about it, the bottom of the bag is actually super fine and kiefy! I rolled a tiny J with a tobacco stop using the rest of what I had of Dank, and BOOM. And I think I like capitalizing strains/quality of bud. Makes it look more official.

So after watching the show a bit, I've started thinking... for the worse... I'd like to be a dealer my whole life. If it was feasible. It's definitely dangerous work (at least while it's illegal) and sometimes not a solid flow of income. Not to mention it's illegal. But if I could, I would. It's actually decent income that you really don't spend any time on. It gives you the options to do things like: pay for college, save for a car or house, just buy things you may need (there's a fine line between "need" and "want"). Plus, the people-to-people relations experience is incredible. You have to interact with soooo many types of people. Different everyday. You get good at talking to people and building a solid clientele. Game Over. You win.

If it's legal, we've embarked on an entire different planet. Three words. License. To. Grow. Regardless, you grow it anyway (NO, I do not grow) and open up a dispensary! Or will it even be called that?

dis·pen·sa·ry  

/disˈpensərē/

Noun A room where medicines are prepared and provided. A clinic provided by public or charitable funds.

Synonyms drugstore - pharmacy

 If it's not necessary to be medical, there will just be weed shops. And we'd open one. And if that didn't work out, a bakery. Scratch that. I have a better idea. And before I tell you, I'm going to High-Patent this:
It will be called "The Breakfast Joint". And the "i" in "joint" will be a joint! It will serve breakfast all day starting from like 11:00 AM to 2:00 AM or we can modify the hours based on how busy we are. And all menu items can be ordered as edibles for an added fee! Can you imagine?? I might seriously take out a small business loan if it gets legalized here! Open up three near me; one in Boone, one in Concord, and one in Charlotte. Same concept totally different feel. I would want the design and decor of the place to match it's surroundings. Each one would be different! Wouldn't that be sick to go to like a Breakfast Joint and have it feel like the mountains/rustic when you're in Boone, or the city/urban when you're in Charlotte? Dope. Too fucking cool.

I'm probably going to jail for conspiring to open a weed shop. 

I could honestly do either of those and be perfectly happy. Lots of money, tons of connections, the world at your fingertips hahah I wish.

Well that's all I can really stand right now... 

Lata, foo

I'm Back

So you may have already noticed, my writing style is far from ordinary. I hope it makes sense. Enough, at least. Oh well. And, no, I don't post everyday, or even every week. Shit on another blog of mine it was exactly 1 year and a day before I got back to it. You never know...

So I'm back. My whole "wake up early" thing worked piss-poor, per the usual. I mean it half worked. Once I finally decided to wake up an hour and a half past when I initially wanted to, I took and shower and woke up. Got some studying done and then took a hit. Yes, singular. Got buzzed. Took bombed a test. And now I'm smoking more as we speak. And by the way, I was actually smoking during those *pfffffffft* things last night.

Half the reason I started this blog was to try and identify why I smoke so much. "Why?" is such a loaded question. And I guess the reason being, because you don't need a "why". Why smoke? Well, why not? And I can assure you, that for anyone who hasn't enjoyed pot in their life, this must be baffling. I mean what else in the world can you say "why not" to during every possible minute? Shit, I'd even get sick of ice cream. I'd probably die first, but I'm making a point. Even sex! My dick would quit out on me after round 34! And who the hell could ever stand to be drunk at anytime, all the time? No one. And that's just it. Marijuana (oh, so official sounding!) is the one thing that can be done continuously without reaching some sort of physical or mental limit (within reason). Being high never gets old. Maybe the things we do when we're high (*cough*blackops*cough*), but never the feeling.

People say that pot makes you "forget" or "hide from" shit. I disagree. I remember shit I don't want to all the time when I smoke. It's the worst feeling. "Oh fuck, I forgot to do my homework, and now I'm high as tits. Fucking great." But weed doesn't sprinkle "forget-me-lots" fairy dust on your brain, it just helps you live in the moment. Now, I've always been told by my mom that I live in the moment. Not like this, I don't. Weed makes you live in the minute. Every single thing is done in light of the moment. And it's kind of awesome. No plans, and even if you do, they always change. And I think that's what I love about smoking. Not that it makes me forget, but that I can live in the moment and not have to worry about the past or the future. And now as I'm saying this, I imagine some minimum-wage employee at the DEA compiling all of these crazy posts and shit from pot smokers around the world, that they'll turn into a new brochure to remind you how terrible pot is. Oh dear, what have I done.

I've never really tried to explain a high to my parents. It's worthless to try. It's an experience. You can't describe it with words, pictures, movies, or anything else for that matter. You have to feel it... quite literally, "experience" it. And I guess this is where so many people make the crucial mistake of believing the anti-drug, government-funded brochures, instead of forming their own opinion based on the knowledge of the smokers themselves. Why should you fear something or judge something if you don't even know what it is or what it does? I mean there comes a point where people need to realize that the information they are reading isn't coming from experience, but instead, from some that same brainwashed DEA employee typing out these brochures in the basement.

I tend to get a little ranty. A lot of ranty.

Remember how I told you I'm "always" writing? Well in my head today, I started writing... I really hope my blog doesn't somehow get linked to my name. I'm sure I've posted incriminating shit already and I really would like to keep my record clean.

By the way, if anyone is reading, I would appreciate any comments on the layout/theme of the blog. I tried to make it easy on the eye while still being interesting and making its point.

Until we meet again...

Adventure Time

Yes, I love the show too, but that's not what I'm here to talk about.

You are about to embark on an adventure with me. See, I've never written high before, and instead of doing my physics homework and studying for my math exam, I have decided to pack a bowl and see where it takes me. Feel free to join me.
.....
*pfffffffffffffffft*
.....
*ahhhhhhhhhh*
.....
Before I continue on, I must recommend some music. If you smoke pot and appreciate music, try out Alea Minerva for a chill, mesmerizing, magical sound. All their shit is free! Don't drop your jaw yet, there's more! G-eazy writes, records and produces some of the greatest hip hop I've ever heard... all for free!

On with the show... I'm already very high. The cloudy yet sporadic thoughts, the heavy eyelids, the most-noticeable red eyes and last but not least the infamous cottonmouth that puts up a better fight than Mike Tyson. Ha. I read that last sentence and wonder how anybody reading could think smoking pot is fun.

.....
*pfffffffffffffffft*
.....
*ahhhhhhhhhh*
.....
I continue to climb this... lost my thought. Had to delete a song. Fucking horrible. My apologies. I continue to climb this scale of highness. I picture an elevator rising, but instead of floor numbers, words like "High", "Super High", "Baked". The elevator plays a soft ding every floor I pass. "Stoned", "Ripped", "High-as-Tits". That last one is my favorite. The elevator dings loudly and it stops.

.....
*pfffffffffffffffft*
.....
*ahhhhhhhhhh*
.....
I can't fucking wait to see this when I'm sober. How silly do I seem? Am I an different on paper when I'm high? Perhaps. The cottonmouth's wrath continues. I spy with my little eyes Canada Dry Cranberry Ginger Ale across the room. Negative. Too far. Even the PS1 can't tempt me...

.....
*pfffffffffffffffft*
.....
*ahhhhhhhhhh*
.....

I think, secretly, I want to be Hunter Thompson. I mean, look at he guy.
Fucking badass. You'll recognize him from his book "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" that was made into the movie starring Johnny Depp. I just went all film-geek on you. What now, bitch. Anywho, he was a reporter that lived a crazy life. Watch the movie, you'll understand.

My bowl is out, but there's no need to pack another.

I'm losing train of thought and I'm getting tired. Dammit.

God damn, I have zero cohesive thoughts when I'm high! I just read what I've written thus far, and it's so random. I must have ADD or something like that. It's uncontrollable. Maybe it's the OCD? Definitely have that. Mom does too. I have an insatiable need to straighten things, clean things, line things up, but when it comes to things like school, I don't experience the same hunger. *fake sobs* I just want to be normal!

But what the fuck is "normal"? I don't believe in this concept that there's norm. We are all instilled, trained if you will, with these preconceived notions about what is supposed to be and what isn't. Blah blah blah. That shit's stupid. Why isn't someone who smokes weed normal? Because they've veered away from the same old ancient standards. Why do we strive to be normal? What about all that wacked out shit that you taught us when we were young about being yourself and not worrying about what other people think? For once, you were right! And now, more than ever, that individualistic mentality is to be throw to the wind. We (as a society) wear what's "in style". We download what's "trending". FTS. Maybe that's a new one for you. I like to think I invented it. FTS = Fuck That Shit. But seriously, everything from music to our everyday lives conforms to a certain "preconceived notion". It's boring. It's stale. It's played out. Do your own thing. Do what YOU want to do. And that, my child, is my lecture for today. Haha

Well I'm getting tired and I still need to get rid of this absurdly large high.

Peace

A New Beginning

I've written on a couple blogs periodically in the past, but my motivation to write has been lacking for a while. So, I've decided to start again.

Why am I writing this? Is anyone listening? Or is this just to maintain what little I have left of my sanity? Why does it matter? What...how rude, I'm sure you must have questions as well...

Who is this guy? Given I understand the settings for this blog, I'd like to remain anonymous. But I'll give you a hint as to what kind of material you may be getting yourself into. I'm a 20 year old male (feels weird to use that word when describing myself) in the US. And just like any other college student, I am a product of the Americanized, excess-driven college lifestyle.

Does this kid have anything better to do? Obviously, yes. But it takes so much stress off my mind to put all of my thoughts on paper instead of letting them bounce around in the back of my head. And I am aware that this is the internet and not a piece of paper. Well spotted, Watson.

What's with the snarky attitude? I don't just write. I don't have a talent that lets me flow my words onto a paper like so many aspiring artists claim. I think about what I write. In the shower. While driving. 24/7. My mind is constantly running. I'm convinced that if the "crazy ass thoughts" pipe ever clogged, I'd die. So I write what I feel, and think about. I like to pretend it's funny, or adds comic relief. I least I think it is...

Get to it, boy! Okay, okay, I'm writing because I want to. I have hopes that someday, this will be found and others can read for enjoyment or benefit. I imagine there are  lot of other kids just like me. Hell, I read a random blog the other day and it related to me perfectly. I connected with this totally random pile of words. And that's what I want.

This post was boring, the format was weird, and I hate first posts. Fuck it.

Peace