I Felt Really Good (and I Wanted to Share it)
Posted: May 1st, 2014, 9:26 pm
Essential points to know about me before we begin:
1) I self-medicate with weed big time. As in, I have been since I was 14. Learned about the stuff in health class, made a pipe, bought a dime (1 gram) of the assiest grass this side of the Detroit River, rode my bike out to a corn field, and finally calmed down. Ever since then, I've leaned on the stuff ever since to give me just an inch of space in my own head from which to slowly reclaim the rest of me. It's the only way I could possibly even write this stuff down.
2) I work in an utterly depressing warehouse as a clerk. I'm there until midnight, Monday to Friday. It will be the source of the happiness to come, though.
So, I just finished my shift at the warehouse. A couple of workmates all live in the same general area so we just bum a ride from the one guy with a car. I opted to not take the ride all the way to the bus station so I could walk home along the bus lane instead (as in, I was let out halfway between stops instead of taking the ride all the way to the further bus stop). The day had been pretty good but I could feel the bad times creeping back in. After leaving my workmates, I realized that I had packed a joint for myself. It was almost as if past me had covered future me. Anyone ever play the TimeSplitters series? TS3 has the mission in the castle where future you gives present you a key and you in turn pass it on. It was like that, and it was awesome. So I grabbed the joint and started puffing. The world slowed down as it usually does, but decleration went brilliantly smoothly this time. I remembered that I had in fact used the really good weed, and I felt even more cared for. Granted, it was me prepping for myself, but I have a rough go of that sometimes so it was really nice. I walked along the bus lane and things started to feel better. I felt the breeze and walked towards my apartment. Actually, it was the thought of writing this down and keeping it that motivated me, and that created a feedback loop of self-assurance. The joint was huge and I had to walk around the block to finish it up before I entered my building. I looked up at my place and the light was on. And I realized that, for the first time ever, I could afford this. I make enough money to pay for everything, and everything in that little glowing box up there is mine and my girlfriend's. That feeling of connectedness, something I so rarely feel, was electric. I can pay back loans now, start digging out a bit, and have more nights like tonight with the weed and the walking and the city opening up before my eyes at the end of the bus lane. Everything in that moment was going to be okay, and I can go back to that place and do it again every night, Monday to Friday, knowing that it will still be there. The work itself is crushing, but two days a week of comfortable living knowing that my little fiefdom in the big grey people storage unit was secured at least for a little while.
It felt good. Writing this out also felt good. I think I'm starting to be more okay with this stuff. Thanks, guys.
Oooh! I forgot something. I often daydream or play out scenarios in my head as I go through life. Usually I can focus on something and they go away such that I can reset the daydream when it sucks. It usually sucks. And sucks. And sucks. Until at last I can settle on something mediocre, like the time I got bitter revenge on my father with a plastic elk at an Edmonton hotel conference room or when I was badly addicted to exercise and reviewing my routines from those days. But this time, it immediately settled on asking my girlfriend's parents (who are wonderful human beings) if I could adopt their family name so as to get rid of the one my father gave me. I have never been comfortable with my last name, and in my little flight of fancy everything turned up aces and not only was it okay but legally acceptable (this is a very long story - the basic version is that my father attached a provision to one of his many legal battles back when my parents divorced which made it very difficult for me to change my last name through conventional means. There's no mention of weddings in there though). Once again, just like that victorious moment with that stupid plastic elk, I will have outwitted my father. And the prize for that feels like the greatest thing I could ever have. A new start with a new name. A better name. Attached to a better family. And when I can afford yet another legal battle I hope I'll be able to shed the remaining chains and finally be able to wear my family heritage in my name too. It's amazing how valuable something is when you don't have it. Maybe with a name I'll be that much closer to feeling like one person with one set of true memories.
It's something to be hopeful about, I guess is what I'm saying.
1) I self-medicate with weed big time. As in, I have been since I was 14. Learned about the stuff in health class, made a pipe, bought a dime (1 gram) of the assiest grass this side of the Detroit River, rode my bike out to a corn field, and finally calmed down. Ever since then, I've leaned on the stuff ever since to give me just an inch of space in my own head from which to slowly reclaim the rest of me. It's the only way I could possibly even write this stuff down.
2) I work in an utterly depressing warehouse as a clerk. I'm there until midnight, Monday to Friday. It will be the source of the happiness to come, though.
So, I just finished my shift at the warehouse. A couple of workmates all live in the same general area so we just bum a ride from the one guy with a car. I opted to not take the ride all the way to the bus station so I could walk home along the bus lane instead (as in, I was let out halfway between stops instead of taking the ride all the way to the further bus stop). The day had been pretty good but I could feel the bad times creeping back in. After leaving my workmates, I realized that I had packed a joint for myself. It was almost as if past me had covered future me. Anyone ever play the TimeSplitters series? TS3 has the mission in the castle where future you gives present you a key and you in turn pass it on. It was like that, and it was awesome. So I grabbed the joint and started puffing. The world slowed down as it usually does, but decleration went brilliantly smoothly this time. I remembered that I had in fact used the really good weed, and I felt even more cared for. Granted, it was me prepping for myself, but I have a rough go of that sometimes so it was really nice. I walked along the bus lane and things started to feel better. I felt the breeze and walked towards my apartment. Actually, it was the thought of writing this down and keeping it that motivated me, and that created a feedback loop of self-assurance. The joint was huge and I had to walk around the block to finish it up before I entered my building. I looked up at my place and the light was on. And I realized that, for the first time ever, I could afford this. I make enough money to pay for everything, and everything in that little glowing box up there is mine and my girlfriend's. That feeling of connectedness, something I so rarely feel, was electric. I can pay back loans now, start digging out a bit, and have more nights like tonight with the weed and the walking and the city opening up before my eyes at the end of the bus lane. Everything in that moment was going to be okay, and I can go back to that place and do it again every night, Monday to Friday, knowing that it will still be there. The work itself is crushing, but two days a week of comfortable living knowing that my little fiefdom in the big grey people storage unit was secured at least for a little while.
It felt good. Writing this out also felt good. I think I'm starting to be more okay with this stuff. Thanks, guys.
Oooh! I forgot something. I often daydream or play out scenarios in my head as I go through life. Usually I can focus on something and they go away such that I can reset the daydream when it sucks. It usually sucks. And sucks. And sucks. Until at last I can settle on something mediocre, like the time I got bitter revenge on my father with a plastic elk at an Edmonton hotel conference room or when I was badly addicted to exercise and reviewing my routines from those days. But this time, it immediately settled on asking my girlfriend's parents (who are wonderful human beings) if I could adopt their family name so as to get rid of the one my father gave me. I have never been comfortable with my last name, and in my little flight of fancy everything turned up aces and not only was it okay but legally acceptable (this is a very long story - the basic version is that my father attached a provision to one of his many legal battles back when my parents divorced which made it very difficult for me to change my last name through conventional means. There's no mention of weddings in there though). Once again, just like that victorious moment with that stupid plastic elk, I will have outwitted my father. And the prize for that feels like the greatest thing I could ever have. A new start with a new name. A better name. Attached to a better family. And when I can afford yet another legal battle I hope I'll be able to shed the remaining chains and finally be able to wear my family heritage in my name too. It's amazing how valuable something is when you don't have it. Maybe with a name I'll be that much closer to feeling like one person with one set of true memories.
It's something to be hopeful about, I guess is what I'm saying.