Weed will pick u up, but you don’t pay attention to the down slide that occurs 20-30 minutes after the initial high. You don’t follow through with the actions you originally needed the pickup for, and then you start the cycle over, by smoking again.
I almost died last night. No exaggeration necessary. I was smoking with my friends, while eating another Nutella and toast combo. (Yes again) Except this time a girlfriend, made her special weed butter, in case smoking did not get us high enough. This weed butter along with smoking numbed my whole body; had us on a different level. On my third piece of weed butter toast topped with some Nutella, food got lodged right in my air pipe. I had always thought when you are choking, you should reasonably have at least half the amount of time that you are able to hold your breath under water. This I found out, is not true at all. This lodged toast literally stopped my air flow and sent me to freak-out mode instantly. I stood up, tried to sneak some air in, and Nothing. My mouth was already dry from a nice case of cotton mouth, and I’m desperately looking for water to wash it down. Reachable was a glass of warm milk from earlier, I splash it down my throat, and still nothing. I went into panic mode, and my friends are laughing while cheers-ing my dramatic, arm flailing excitement. My idiot friends are high as well, and assumed I had just took a mean bong hit, which really messed me up. I tried to give them the craziest, desperate look my face could muster, but it did not send the right message. They laugh even harder, and I ran toward the kitchen faucet starting to see red. Thank God pouring water down my throat was enough to clear my airway and my body’s reactions decided to let me see another day. Honestly I don’t think those two would have even known what to do if I had collapsed right there. Believe me, we discussed it afterwards… I would have been screwed. It chokes me up just a little right now, thinking about how close I really came to death. I’m a pretty safe person these days and the older I get the more important the future feels. To think about having it all end by choking on a bagel with Nutella, stoned in my kitchen, while my idiot friends roll around laughing oblivious to my emergency……… I wanted to usher them out of my house right then, for almost watching me die. They defended themselves by pointing out my failure to use the universal sign of choking, which is to cross your hands over your neck. Maybe if I was not high, I would have remembered to do that instead of waving my arms around in freak out mode. They had no idea when I was by the kitchen sink, I was still not breathing. Long story short; cotton mouth, the munchies, marijuana, a water bong, and two high friends, was about 2 seconds away, from being my last experience.
2PM I’m on my balcony high. I moved my laptop, and a more comfortable chair outside. I am just going to soak in the rays and enjoy work a little bit more. This feels pretty “business cool”, which is the plot line for a screen play, I am writing for fun. Nothing is much cooler for me, than working on at home on the balcony, a packed bowl, laptop, sunglasses, and a glass sun tea. Neighbors walking by are waving at us because my girlfriend is walking up with my Migas plate, and some potato enchiladas we ordered earlier. Yes I eat breakfast meals in the afternoon, it’s still my first meal of the day. I don’t smoke in public. It’s not so much that I care what others think about weed, I just don’t want strangers to have any type of illegal actions gossip on me. Life is good, and I let friends on facebook know it, for about an hour of quality nonsense, while I snack on breakfast.
Last night we went to ‘open mic nite’ at Capital City Comedy, before the choking incident went down. I took mental note: I always want to power smoke before an event that will make me laugh… or when I’m planning some sort of green belt trip with Mary Jane’s mommy, mother nature… or theatre events, or tail gating, or going out to eat… or actually, let’s just call it about any event where I know I am going to be eating food, visually stimulated, or stuck in a seat for an extending period of time. I smoke before I go to events hoping it will make it more interesting. As long as I do not need to be an athlete, I may as well be high, right? I always smoke high quality weed. You will not get a ‘smoke hang out’ call back from me, if you think ‘swag is just as good’. Even smoking excellent weed, which should keep me high for a couple hours, will wear out fast, leaving me with that low feeling. Attending events directly combats your high. Activity combats highness. That can’t be good, unless you are trying to be inactive. By the time the event is halfway through, if I have not started having a couple drinks, the fun is over. I know ‘not high’ events don’t end up with me feeling low, and alcohol normally picks up the social pace. Marijuana always seems like a good idea at first, until everyone starts getting cranky on the trail, and we need to take that first smoke break of the event, just to keep the good times rolling. Being high also takes away that natural high, which you may remember experiencing before you and Mary Jane were so tight.
Today is the day I quit smoking marijuana. I am not saying forever, because that
is unreasonable to think. I am giving myself exactly two weeks, because most places I have read said that past 10 days, it really is out of your system. I’m telling anyone that comes in my direction with a sack of weed and a smile, “no thank you, I’m detoxing… in a couple weeks let’s smoke”. Sure, it’s a slight lie, but I like the detoxing excuse. Detoxing is close to truth and it sounds cool enough to keep the eye rolling responses I usually receive from my friends when I tell them I’m quitting weed. I need to have a prepared response, because I have been saying yes for so long, I might get caught off guard. As an additional reminder I am going to change my iphone background to something else. My wallpaper background on my main menu is going to be a picture of my dog staring at me, with his big puppy dog eyes. My dog will remind me of two things, health and exercise. On my outside lock page wall paper, I am putting a picture of downtown Austin to remind me of my career goals and the need to be more extroverted. Marijuana has very sneaky, subtle ways of making you forget one important thing. Words and ideas won’t get you very far, unless there is action behind them. I have always been told that I am a productive high, and I shouldn’t have to worry about being high; because I am doing a lot. I have done a lot with my life already, but I call ‘bullshit’ on my own down play of the matter. I am only maintaining my career and barely making my monthly bills. I am not leaping forward like my inner potential expects me to be. I remember periods of tile when I did not smoke seems like I was moving faster than I am now. My life may appear to be OK from someone else’s view, but they are not in charge of the motivation behind my goals, nor do they know my bank account balances. Come to mind, the majority of people that are saying that I am a ‘functioning high’ are not in better situations than me, or they are college aged. Now that I think about it, the successful people I do know, do not smoke.
I am stopping after today for at least this two week period. It’s 8:30 PM, I have one bowl left in my pipe. I am smoking that bowl, and then I am out of weed. I absolutely have to get my head cleared, 10 days plus cleared. I must wrap my head around this, and experience not being high for an extended period of time. I am not even sure how I became such a pot head. I feel like I am staring right in the eyes of a real life addiction. I never have been dependant on anything. I’m a very independent person, ask any one. Mary how could you do this to me? How could I have let me, do this to me? I feel almost embarrassed that I let a little plant smoke, confuse my direction. Mary Jane you are starting to look like a true weed on my life. A weed grows up through things and disguises itself. Maybe I am just being paranoid, and personifying Mary Jane like she’s a sneaky lil bitch, that is sucking the life out of me, as I laugh my way through life, watching TV sitcoms. Last bowl sir. Last bowl. Then when that high wears down, I will hit up the gym and sweat it out, I don’t care how late it is. This weed stuff has had me for too long. I have my friend excuses, and reminders in place. I am out of weed. I am tossing my pipe in the garbage, because that’s such a minimum sacrifice to keep the resin-hitting-crack-head part of me, at bay. I am going to take quitting seriously. Putting this on paper puts the problem in my face. Who’s King of the caste here dammit!? Mary’s out. No more excuses, no more tomorrows.
Continue reading Weed Diaries, Day 6