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Yes, I’m lame for not posting more. I am getting slammed at work; I had forgotten just how draining the job can be. Plus, I’m still gamely traveling on with the whole “don’t forget about yourself” project and while it’s not exactly a part-time job, it does involve more from-scratch cooking (with which I get abundant support from John, who really does most of the cooking around here) and working out and sleeping more. What I’m finding is that one of the ways that I make it appear that I can do everything all at once is by never sleeping. That’s not a sustainable way to live. So, reluctantly, I’m having to slow down on some things and blogging is one of them.
Anyhow, I ran across this Radley Balko piece on Michael Phelps and I thought I’d pass it along. I never was a pot smoker. I hung out with a lot of pot smokers once upon a time, but I just wasn’t into it. I didn’t like the hazy feeling (speed was my illegal drug of choice) and I have always been somewhat protective of my lungs, if you don’t count that infatuation with clove cigarettes in the spring of 1985. However, I see nothing wrong with pot use. I see something wrong with wasting your life sitting on the couch eating Cheetos and watching the PowerPuff Girls, but let’s be honest; most people grow out of that and those that don’t probably are dodging bigger issues of which pot smoking is merely a symptom.
There are many reasons not to smoke pot. It doesn’t particularly taste good (to me), it’s expensive, it’s against the law and you can go to jail if you do something flagrantly stupid (even when you’re white and middle-class, because there are no end of people who want to dance their superiority dance on you and make you an example of what happens to BAD KIDS OF HIPPIE PARENTS), and because you’re smoking unfiltered tar-laden weeds, it’s hard on your lungs. It tends to thin your hair out, if you care about that sort of thing, but that’s not universal. If you’re in a situation where you need to keep your wits about you or when you’re operating a vehicle, it’s good not to be stoned because your judgment isn’t so good when high and your reaction time is impaired. It messes up your memory acquisition, so it’s not a drug to use when you’re heading off to class. It puts you in the company of people who may not give a damn about the finer points of legality and people who deal drugs (even small time dealers, like the people I knew) are not very trustworthy when it gets down to it. You can get in over your head quickly and it is often the case that drug “friends” aren’t really your friends when you run out of drugs, especially when you’re in college and don’t have much of a history with your peers. I guess that’s the case I’ll be making to my kid when she is of age. What I won’t be doing is drawing a moral bright line between the saved and the damned, the straight and the stoned.
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