Disappointed with Marijuana

A year ago, I purchased my first marijuana legally in New York. While I had taken a hit on work trips with colleagues in the past, I never smoked it recreationally myself even though I had heard many good things about the whacky tobacco from the popular culture.

There are so many songs that hint at or even explicitly suggest that smoking marijuana will give you great creative energy, restore clarity of thought. I got a couple of e-books out from the library about the history and uses of cannabis – I had great hopes of learning about what would be the perfect high.

At first it was kind of fun, giggling by the waterfalls and listening to the Grateful Dead singing Dire Wolf. But much like a great record you play too many times and get tired with and no longer sparks that special joy in your life, cannabis kind of wore off it’s magic. I only smoke up at camp, well and Election Day, I thought the absence would bring back the magic and not just make me sleepy. Maybe it’s the junky pot I was sold at the shady dispensary last November in Colonie.

Even at best though, pot made me giggle, enjoy the sparkles in the water, the shimmer of the green leaves of summer, the clouds in sky and enhanced the colors of the world to make it more real. But it hardly gave me the clear view of the world I so badly wanted. Mostly when I’m stoned, I actually don’t want to read, write or think deep thoughts. I just want to stare blankly in space.

I still enjoy the reaction I get from people who are surprised that I smoke pot. I never thought Andy was a pot head! I like the association of free thought, color and tuning in with pot as popularized by the culture even if I’ve never been able to get beyond being a bit stoned in the wilderness.