The potential we have under the umbrella of youth will not materialize and as we grow old we lose that intangible. It won’t matter that we could have been anything we wanted and we’ll have to settle for what we have become.
That’s the quote of the day.
Yesterday I tried something new. It was Saturday and I woke up early, not quite as early as on weekdays, but 6:15 or so. I went out with the dog and took a single toke, came inside, did some yoga for twenty minutes and started writing. I wrote until about 8:00 at which time I decided I would take a break before heading to the coffee shop and writing some more. So three new things about this.
- Got up early on the weekend
- Wake and bake
- Took a break and wrote again.
I wrote insightfully, about writing, about the process that works for me, and how I approach it, and then I actually did approach it that way. Pot makes me introspective and meditative and imaginative and empathetic and self reflective, and physically relaxed. When you feel good, and when your imagination is in full gear, temptations are more palpable. So I have to be guarded against allowing myself to degrade into writing nothing but fantasies about having a dick. There’s a time for that, I suppose, but it’s not when I want to be productive. And I don’t want to get myself wet at the coffee shop. I took a shower while my husband was still in bed. He didn’t know that I had toked. I could tell him. In some ways I’d rather not, and in some ways, I’d like to get it out in the open so that I don’t have to feel like I’m hiding it, which I’m not.
After showering, I took care of a chore, just something I wanted to get done, so that I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head. My husband got up and asked me whether I had plans. I told him that I wanted to get to the coffee shop by 9:00 to get a good seat.
He offered to join me for a coffee first and we walked over. I had a scone, which I ate slowly (for me). I was done with it by the time he finished his coffee and left. Then I booted up and wrote. I’m happy with what I wrote. It doesn’t matter what it was. 98% percent of writing is practice. It was a good start.
I left at 1:00. My son’s rock and roll band had a gig. I recorded it.
Here’s the amazing thing. I felt good all day. I was not lazy. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. Motivated? Focused? I did everything I needed to do, none of which is typically easy for me, from getting up in the morning, taking care of chores to writing. Walking home I felt sexy, patient and happy and stayed that way the whole day!
I’m telling you, if I dose it right both in quantity and timing it is medicine for me. More commonly I’ll just take the easiest opportunity to smoke, which is in social gatherings at night, but that’s not how or when I need it. That’s not how or when I want it, or how I like it.
During the day I had a short nap, planned for it, because I had gotten up early. By the evening, I was tired and relaxed but not too sleepy. I didn’t smoke again, despite the opportunity, nor did I have a drink. I thought about it, but I didn’t need to and I didn’t want to ruin anything for the next morning.
I went to bed after midnight, but when I woke at 6:15, I got up.
I feel good. I feel happy. I’m back at the coffee shop. Walked over with my husband again. I want to try this during the week too, before work. I typically aim to get up at 5:00 during the week, to practice a little yoga and to write in my journal. Aim. Maybe this will help motivate me to succeed. By the time I’d get to work it will have been 3 ½ hours since my toke. I will have showered, brushed my teeth, shaved my underarms or wherever. The pot will wear off, but I’ll still feel good. I’ll be happy and “not lazy.” I won’t be wishing I was somewhere else, or someone else. It would be like a dream come true. A miracle. Seriously.
I’d be smoking less too. Responsible and happy. Don’t ask me why this works. I don’t know the biology.