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Saturday, May 30, 2009

STIB #1 : Smoke Two Joints

I put my entire playlist of over 1000 songs on random and decided I would write a blog somehow connected to the first track title I got. I pressed play and got Sublime – Smoke Two Joints. So here it is. The diary of a stoner girl – at the very beginning.

It starts with my family. My mom is a free spirited hippie who is happiest in very small towns, running her own cafĂ©. Where she can live near the water and have bonfires in her backyard. She paints beautiful pictures and grows a garden every year without fail. She also smokes joints. Pinner ones of whatever weed she manages to find and gets high after one or two puffs. When I was 15 I think she would have allowed me to smoke if I wanted to. But, believe it or not, I didn’t want to. My older sister tried everything from bribery to blackmail – but I always said no. It was my way of rebelling from them. By not smoking weed. Sounds crazy - but it’s all true… and didn’t last long anyways. Lauren was over and we had been drinking the first night I gave in. My sister had brought a glass pipe and reinforcements. They cornered us like flies in a spider web. I remember everyone being so infectiously excited. Like watching a baby walk for the first time. They tried to teach us the proper burning and inhaling techniques. We still burnt our fingers and coughed like the newbs we were. The exhilaration wore off quickly when we realized the price our throats had to pay. We definitely got high though, as they forced us to finish the brimming bowl just to ourselves. We played Sonic and Tails on Sega and laughed our asses off at all the colourful ring games. We munched out furiously on a huge plate of nachos. Courtesy of mom – who laughed at us. It was a great day, and I had a great first experience.

Smoking weed is an accepted thing in my family. Even more then that, it’s embraced and shared together – not as a dangerous or unacceptable drug, but simply as a good time to get away from it all. Even for 5 minutes, we could escape the chaos of the younger sisters, the eternally messy house, the homework, the television, the computer and every other obligation or distraction. My sister, my mom and I would sit on the back door steps every so often and have a moment just for us. Of course if I had anything I wanted to talk to my mom or my sister about, they were always there for me (regardless of weed or not) but I found that when I didn’t need to talk to her about anything specific, we talked instead about the things we truly cared about. The things that had our attention. We were more honest, more comfortable and instead of just my mom, she became my best friend.

We crossed a bridge, and closed the generation gap by resisting societies little boxes, and doing something we enjoyed regardless of who told us it was “wrong”. We learned so much about and from each other, just from a few minutes out of the day where there was no judgment. No guilt or pressure. Almost ritualistic…it was more then an escape. It was like one of those booths at the back of the church, where we were both the priests, on the same side of the screen. I cant believe I just compared smoking weed with my mom to religious confession… and on that note, I’ll leave you now

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