"It is on our failures that we base a new and different and better success." ~Havelock Ellis

New Year's is an interesting time of year, don't you think? Many resolve to harness his/her dissoluteness: less drinking, quitting smoking, sticking to that work-out regimen...

My vice? Mary Jane.

When people asked me what my New Year's resolution was, I acrimoniously responded "to quit smoking weed." To which all but one of my friends responded "Ha, yeah right! You're the biggest stoner I know!!"

Thank you all for your undying support.

Alright, fine. I'm not going to lie; I guess there is some truth to that statement. My career in cannabis started soemtime midway through freshman year in college. After which, smoking a minimum of once daily became par for the course. And often, at least within the last 6 -12 months or so, it was more along the lines of 2-4 times - once after work and once before bed.





28 Jan 1997 - Mence Powell is arrested for dealing marijuana out of the drive-thru window at a McDonalds in Monroe, Connecticut.




But don't let this paint the inevitably inaccurate picture that such a statement would depict. There are no dreadlocks, no long flowy skirts, and I don't think I've ever even been handcuffed to a headboard, let alone a tree that was marked to be torn down. Rather weed was always my ... leveler? I suppose one might say. I go to school full time and get As with the occasional B and have been working since I figured out that my taste was of the more expensive variety. I worry about things like the annual report on China that Congress presents to the President and miners trapped underground and women that throw their babies away in landfills.

I'll be the first to admit it: I used marijuana to depersonalize and desensitive the reality in which I live. But it has finally come to a point where I almost feel as though I no longer am an active participant in my own life -- not that I am suicidal or anything like that. But, even when I'm not high ... I walk around just "doing the motions."

That isn't the first time I've described how I felt as "doing the motions" ... and finally after having seen it typed on my screen in front of me, I am starting to wonder how many other people out there feel like that. Open up any anti-pot publication and it preaches that the people that the socially and mentally depraved are at highest risk for becoming addicted to weed (I know, to those of you stoners...how funny does that sound?) Look over the statistics ... if those don't sell you, take your own polls. Stop off at UIC or DePaul University or any of the millions of junior high and high schools in any semi-affluent suburb and ask the questions directly. I think what you find would surprise you. Now chew on this: when was the last time you were at Walgreen's to pick up some of the infamous cure-all, Robitussin. Have you noticed you need an ID that proves you're of at least 18 years of age or older? http://www.walgreens.com/about/press/othernews/063005.jsp

I mean, doesn't it beg the question: what is it in this country that has become so Calvinist that kids today perceive escapism to be perforce?

Alright that was my little rant there. I'm over that. Back to the palaver ...

[NOTE: this is my first posting on this blog .. and my first blog ever, for that matter. I've put a little bit more effort into this one, I think ... in fact, I have almost been writing for two hours. Future postings will not be as a crafted and will be far more stream of consciouness so please bear with me..]


But despite the fact that I was (am?) ga-ga for ganja, my schedule this quarter simply doesn't alot for any time to be demotivated: full time work and full time school with an added spice of Monday & Wedneday morning real estate classes (which, p.s. - cost $350 ... translation: don't fuck it up, Jenna). I can't afford for any demotivation - it's time to call it quits.

Well, that's all very nice lip service, I know. But, to be trite, actions speak louder than words.

I lasted four days. No dice.

Yesterday I was having an absolutely awful afternoon. I'm talking crying spells from the minute I woke up (albeit sometime circa 1:30 in the p.m. ...), trips to fish stores (which could understandably ruin ANYBODY'S afternoon) and fighting my way through the hoardes of people in line at Jewel-Osco (point and case). I was feeling sorry for myself all day and finally got a call from a very dear friend of mine [Mouth .. why? because his is so big ... and I mean that in the most loving and endearing way possible .. but let's face it sweetheart, we're both loud as shit.] that always does cheer me up. He suggested I come over and started listing the incentives: getting cheered up, watching random sports games, eating ice cream and cookie sandwiches, and oh yes, relishing the reefer.

Well. It just so happened I had just signed offline with another friend [Smiles], with whom I had established an on-going bet regarding this little boycott of bud. I had left him a message on Friday night indicating that my best friend's [PeaPod .. because her and I are like two peas in a pod, ya dig?] birthday was right around the corner and that she was in fact DEMANDING that I smoke with her on her birthday (well, how could I refuse?)

[NOTE: I just decided I think I am going to give everybody code names; those of you closest to me can figure them out and the rest of you .. listen to me, assuming that anyone gives a shit enough to read about me and my life... if you have questions or comments, then you can ask; but out of respect to the people I will indubitably be talking [shit at times] about..I think code names are the way to go. Additinal Benefit: perhaps this will satiate that part of me that just cries out to be a secret spy...]

Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. After about 8 minutes of me ranting and raving about how awful and dark and despondent the world is, Smiles calls off the bet.

:-o Doth mine ears deceive me?

Surely not. Well. This was interesting .. this was ... unexpected ... this was .. causing an uncomfortably high level of guilt in me. Apparently which, subsided by the time I got over to Mouth's. Before I got on the bus I called up Green (the dealer...whose real name i couldn't give even if I tried because that was what I had saved him in my cell phone as ...). To my discontent, I was told there wouldn't be any until tomorrow. Yet simultaneously, I took it as a sign from above. Fine, I can stick to this stupid bet. Even if he DID call it off.

Well, well, well. Sitting at the bus stop, waiting for good ole #22NB to roll up and seriously rocking out on the Shuffle to some bad ass beats, low and behold ... my leg feels a vibration. I pull out the illuminated blue screen to see "GREEN" across the display.

Most intriguing ... I thought to myself. I took it as another sign .... "Well, hell yeah I still need that."

*Fast forward* On the north side, three kids - me, Mouth and Noomie -[Mouth's roommate, and if you know him, I know this isn't a good code name...but I think it's cute. Furthermore, such an infinitesimal number of people that know me know him, I think I can pull this off as his codename...] pull out the digi to weigh out our shit.

1.3 grams short.

Goddammit, I thought to myself. I knew this mothereffer was shorting me last time too.

So that was that. I decided that on a recency basis, the last omen to come from above was to be the one that took the cake: after all, everything leading up to this moment happened fora reason so why am I not to believe that this was the ultimate succession?

Nevertheless, that didn't stop me from getting high. Oh, no...definitely not.

In the meantime, my cellie (I promise to God I will never use that word in another sentence ever on this blog, but for the flow of things I think that this has a nice rhythym..) in the meantime, my cellie starts blowing up. Again I reach for the tiny blue illuminated screen: Jack [reference to Jack Kerouac and his novel On The Road .. only because this friend has been travelling a lot recently and I couldn't think of anything better].

Ah yes, the story behind Jack. Jack and I use to date last year, actually, I believe it was indeed exactly one year ago. Our relationship was weird .. we both had a lot of intimacy issues but had a ball together and more or less were head over heels for one another.

So what's the problem? Well, the problem was that simultaneously I felt the need to slut it up more than necessary and ended up doing a lot of really really shitty things to him. After a cathartic afternoon sometime in Spring all communication ceased between us and I didn't talk to him until sometime right before the holidays.

Last night he called me up and started professing his love. But he didn't just stop there and it really wasn't as romantic as it might sound to some.

The conversation was rather caustic in nature and somehow or another led to yet another discussion on marijuana. Jack asked what I was doing and I replied something that insinuated I was about to sit down and get high. After hearing Mouth's voice in the background, Jack went off on a tangent about how all I do is sit around smoking marijuana cigarettes and getting naked for different men.

Funny way to express your love and affection, right? Agreed. However, to be honest, my track record isn't exactly untarnished and more often than not I tend to scumble the lines between simply friends and fuck friends.

Maybe I didn't get hugged enough as a child or perhaps I feel that if I have a lot of little meaningless relationships, I can substitute them for one that requires a modicum of in-depth intimacy. But all of that is purely speculation.

OK, JACK. So. Congratulations. You officially and completely not only made me feel like the asshole I probably (which is probably an understatement as far as single words go but c'mon I think I've beat myself up enough the last couple days..) deserve to feel like, but you have re-invoked a geyser of guilt that is surging throughout my body so vigorously that I struggle to keep my eyes closed as my head lay on this pillow.

On the plus side: since i couldn't sleep I thought about all of this stuff and decided to to take TV up on his suggestion (TV as in Tiny Vessels....as in the song from Death Cab For Cutie....and is also fitting because of his major: film) and write all of these feelings down in a blog.

Thanks, TV.

p.p.s. - I think I'm already giving away too much information as to the who's who behind the code names. Oh well, we'll see how long I can keep this up for..