A little angst

Some days I don't miss it, I could be so busy that my body doesn't have the energy to yearn for that particular sweet pleasure. I am also doing an ok job of training myself to not think about first thing every morning, to wish for it before bed in all its hedonistic delight, and to forget about the sneaky excitement when it is done in the afternoon. Uhhhhh- right, not thinking about it. But sometimes, or maybe more honestly, often times, the power of desire is all consuming and my faculties are overwhelmed with a vicious need to get stoned. 

Substitute fucked for stoned and I feel pretty much the same way, but as of yet, I am not totally there with blogging about what I miss about sex. In reality I could write twice as much about that, but for now on that subject, I am leaving my intense sexual angst to swirl around on the inside, left to manifest in the few precious little moments that are handed down by god when my roommate stays at her boyfriends house, or when i am off for the afternoon and she is nowhere to be found....I will side track to say that the free nature of clubmates moving from room to room with doors typically remaining unlocked leaves for a slightly stressful session of angst relieving, and that- no no, I was talking about pot, not this.....

As far as my friend Marijuana goes, the yearning is not of the addicted smoker kind, because I was one of those in high school and the kind of addiction that comes from smoking cigarettes is a beast of its own. I read in some Legalize Marijuana literature that pot is about as addictive as caffeine, and my biased opinion is to agree. The careful balance of necessity and delight that exists with my morning cups of coffee is on par with how I feel about an evening bowl: they may not be basic essentials, but life is only better and more relaxing upon their inclusion. Not only to I love pot, but I work a job that nearly requires a weed unwind after a shift, and live on an island in an atmosphere that supports imbibing of the Bob Marley persuasion. The big drawback is the drug testing and the still mysteriously unmentioned results of mine. The consensus is that they are going to stay mum about the results of my test until I pull something that requires some extra ammo for them to get rid of me; basically, if they keep liking me I'm in the clear, but what that probably means is that I should stay damn careful about smoking for the duration of my contract.

So I'm fucked, and not in the good way. I mean sure, I could use break from pot, my intake during my first post college year probably accounted for more smoke in my lungs than all of college put together, but it also accounted for the biggest mellowing out my intense personality has ever made it through. Thank you ganj', and now it is gone. I recognize that there are bigger problems in the world than whether this girl gets to get high at any old time of the day, but it points to something more significant that I had a feeling would happen after being here for a little bit, and that is missing home. I miss Seattle already. I miss an evening with my friends, I miss sitting on a couch and lighting up a bowl and then getting lost in wherever your mind goes in that stoned little space you created until the night is over. Ah man, I miss everything smelling and sounding and tasting so good, and o fuck FEELING so good. Touch IS the best one, and right it is still good without M.J., but o shit isn't it rad with it? Ok, maybe I'm rambling a little here, and maybe I am crossing my physical pleasures a bit too much for the time, but man o man. 

Learning experience. Learning experience. Learning experience.