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.
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...
