4:20 PM… Obviously
Oh, high. So maybe it’s 4/20, and maybe I celebrated by watching a documentary on the history channel about the American history of marijuana. Pretty exciting stuff, I must say. Several decades ago, marijuana was spelled with an “h” in the place of the “j” we all know and love these days, which is something interesting that I didn’t know before today. I could talk to you about my views in the drug, but why should you care what I think? Also, I don’t want to be too controversial on this blog, so I’ll stay away from too much detail.
I will however tell you a funny story about myself and Cannabis: I live in New Orleans, so I’ve been to my fair share of music festivals and parties. I’ve also been deep in Audubon park of a Friday afternoon. I’ve been to Mardi Gras many times as well. (What more do I need to say?). Marijuana and I are pretty familiar with each other. I know all the code names, and plenty of other things that I probably shouldn’t. I’ve smelt weed all over the place, and boy did it smell nice to my young and naive nostrils. I had no idea what the fragrance was for the larger part of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking, or why I though maybe it was a new popular perfume fragrance, or something cooking up in a restaurant nearby.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was walking with my coach and my sister on the side of my school. This side happens to be situated across the street from a quaint coffee shop. Local musicians and amateurs play there for open mic night all the time. College kids and older puff their cigarettes, sip their rich coffees or iced-Italian sodas, and soak up the music. Sometimes people will enjoy a game of chess, or maybe just have a sit in the back room decorated with middle-eastern styled drapes and pillows. Who really knows what that room is for, I just know my sister had a birthday party there, and I thought that room was very pretty. Back to the story: As I was strolling in the night, the familiar scent hits my nostrils. In my head, I thought about how delightful it smelled. All of a sudden, my coach blurts out “Ick, it smells like weed,” and we turned around to a pick-up-truck of stoners having a smoke in front of the coffee shop.
My heart sank in that moment. Sort of like it does every time I cheat a diet, or basically every time Nutella is in my presence How could something so bad be so good at the same time? It makes no sense to me. Life shouldn’t be like that. Does god really love me? In that moment, I was having second thoughts.
Since that night, I’ve learned a lot. It’s a good thing the young mind has such great capacity. Today is 4/20. Happy Holidays, I guess I should say. If you’ve got a birthday, then double Happy Holidays. The point of this post is really just that I don’t condone illegal activity. However, I do condone enjoying the freedom of choice, which I and many of my readers have. So celebrate how you wish, and don’t get caught I suppose.
I will see you in another 48 hours.