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.





The temperature is relative!

28 01 2011

I remember when I came home from south America after being there for just under a year and a half.  I spent some time in the country of Paraguay and visited western Brazil a little bit.  It was a tropical rain forest, humid, hot, extremely muggy and the weather was oppressive to say the least.  But all that weather created some of the most natural beauty the mind can possibly imagine and gave me an opportunity to partake in an experience few will ever understand.

The interesting thing is that I come from a place in the United States that contains the last natural rain forest in the country, the Pacific Northwest and found myself in another one of the few rain forest regions in of the world.  In south America the rain forests are tropical and full of exotic life.  I witnessed flocks of parrots flying in nature, monkeys running through the trees in the city with orange, grapefruit and banana trees growing wild all around us.

But what I’m getting at here is the temperature.  Not to mention the humidity!  When it got to be above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and often times it climbed above 110 degrees, there was no escaping the sweltering heat.  I literally felt like we were living in a sauna and we just got used to it.  Our bodies acclimated to the conditions and while they weren’t comfortable, they were survivable and we made the best of our surroundings.  There was no central air or even decent air flow; and the places we lived were made from brick which literally acted like ovens, trapping the heat in the summer time and cooking us while we remained indoors.

But still, being indoors was nothing compared to being in that direct sunlight outside where our exposed skin would immediately feel like we were being placed in a convection oven for baking.  And not more than thirty seconds after that the sweat would begin to pour.  Our bodies would react immediately to the environment and rivers of sweat would begin pouring down our arms, running down our hands like the blood veins you can see in thinner peoples’ skin and drip to the ground off of our fingertips.  This would be a daily experience, and the reason we drank gallons of fluids.

When I returned home from this red and green hotbox of clay and trees it was springtime in the Northwest and the temperatures were around 68 degrees.  Everyone in the town was thrilled with the sun being out and the rising temperatures and broke out the shorts and t-shirts to enjoy the improving weather.

When I got there I found myself needing a jacket and long sleeves.  That’s the thing I found funny.  Nobody could understand how I could be feeling cold, but my core was so used to that oven that I felt as if I were now in a refrigerated environment. It took me a little while to get used to it but I eventually did, although I could never get used to the  dismal rain of the Northwest, the green is lovely.

What made me think of this today is that I am sitting in the local library on the WiFi and it’s a little warm in here.  It’s the middle of winter and we’ve been having some big snow storms and bitter cold.  It’s been below 20 degrees quite often in the last month or so.  I took a break to walk outside without my jacket, into the 40  degree temperature and found it to be refreshing and quite pleasant.  I thought for a moment about moving my workstation outside to enjoy the fresh air and beautiful weather.  Then I remembered that it’s all relative!

Enjoy your environment, it’s all beautiful!








%d bloggers like this: