Stay High

14 02 2016

mc5I wrote “stay high” in one of my stoner girlfriends’ yearbooks in my Jr. year of high school. And she left her yearbook behind in class one day and the teacher opened it and started reading the comments.  So dude called my parents and said we needed to do a drug intervention with me, just because I told her to stay high.

I didn’t do drugs like those chicks.  They were way more mature and older than me.  I started school a year earlier than I should have so I was always with older kids in the same class and I witnessed things earlier than I should have.

They would come to school on Monday, after the weekend talking about taking LSD and Cocaine and having sex with their older boyfriends.  I just listened and let it roll off my back because I knew I was way too young for that business.  But they liked me a lot so they would travail me with these stories of slutty-hood and debauchery.

So I knew they liked to party and they were my friends in school so I wrote, “stay high” in her yearbook and the adults all freaked out on me.  And her too, but she laughed it off because her parents allowed her these luxuries.

But not mine, and not that I would have wanted to do that stuff at such a young age, I wouldn’t have.  They would tell me that I needed to take LSD with them and then they would “take advantage” of me in the bedroom.

Sounds about what every high school boy dreams of, it actually happened to me but I just put it out of my mind because I knew I was going on a mission for Jesus Christ when I was 19 and I had to remain pure as I could.  But I smoked a lot of weed, and drank alcohol and made out with a lot of chicks…I just never went all the way like those crazy chicas wanted me too.

And after the discovery of “stay high” in the yearbook, I was grounded for two months by my parents.  Man, that sucked.  I got grounded a lot, and for long times too because I did some stuff I should not have done, but it was never as severe as my parents imagined, and during lecture time I never said anything, just listened to them tell me what kind of trouble I was getting into for coming home smelling like smoke.

Man, I must have driven my parents nuts in my latter high school years.  They have no idea I was merely the celibate stoner.  I just liked my brain escape from the harshness of home, but I wasn’t out womanizing or anything like my other buddies were.

Burned out, broke and bored

9 08 2007

Some days I feel so burned out on life. I sit in my cubicle typing and thinking and answering questions and giving people advice to things that a little common sense might provide to them on their own and I ask myself, “what’s in it for me?” The only answer I can come up with is that I need this salary so I can continue to support my kids. I don’t have much for myself, I live like a pauper (except that I have an empty apartment with borrowed furniture) and my ex-wife gets most of my dough for herself. I’m in debt, I’m bored and I’m tired of all this bullshit.

I’m not depressed. I’m actually quite happy most of the time, it’s just that I don’t see a lot that I look forward to. That’s why I say I’m bored rather than depressed. I can laugh and I can enjoy the moment but the mountain of debt I have and the burden of all this bullshit alimony and child support just takes away my ability to live my life as a single man. How could I ever support another family if I can barely squeak by on my own? That’s what lawyers are for.

We are in litigation right now, I suppose I have that to look forward to. She doesn’t need alimony. She started working after the divorce was final and she brings home more than I pay her in alimony. Do the math, alimony goes bye-bye. Yipee! I’m looking forward to that little bump in salary.

All the things I expected in life have changed. I feel lost sometimes, like I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next because I always expected to be Captain Family Man with a wife and kids by my side at all times. Now I find myself in the single man’s world with a girlfriend and a lot of unknowns about my future. Will I stay with her? Will we move on? Will she break my heart? Will I break hers? Will I get maimed in a horrible knitting accident and live the remainder of my days on plastic tubing, breathing through a hole in my neck? If I were brain dead that might not be such a bad thing. At least then I could probably comprehend my ex’s motivation since we would then have become intellectual equals.

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