I’m going to complain about the weather since there’s no point to this post. It’s been unbearably hot in Oakland for the past couple of days. Every time I step out of the office, I can feel my skin expanding, swelling, and pulsing from the heat. It’s not a good feeling at all. I can compare the sensation to having a gallon of melted wax dumped on my back. The heat making my epidermis ballon and swell and pulse. It reminds of a time where I wasn’t living in California. A more humid time that oozed of really good memories smoking reggies and stewing in my own sweat.
MANILA, PH – There wasn’t really much to say about my state there. I lived and went on with my life smoking weed with the idea that I was going to get caught and punished for my indiscretion. C’mon, I left 2012 and never came back. Noynoy Aquino was still president and things were bleak in terms of cannabis legalization. It’s as if the Philippines never thought about it. Although, what does a third world country concern itself with when their leaders are busy fumbling around and sending their kids to first world countries to study with all that ill gotten or celebrity money?
We all know the best actors are in theater and in congress. And that’s when I left to find myself in this big sad chunk of world.
Not a lot of anybody can just do this, I guess. It wasn’t really a “Sneak into Guam” or marry an American type of K-1 Visa situation for me. I mean, how dope would my biography be if that were the case? Ha! Sadly, I was just born into this. The struggle, I know.
WEED. I’ve smoked weed since I was 15 years old. Then I moved to California to start my new life and things were pretty dry for the first two years. I didn’t know where to get it. I had no friends. Then when things started to pick up, that’s when I got back to it.
The very first thing I smoked was a GSC cartridge from Select. It was 2014. I got it from Eaze and that’s when my husband figured out that he wanted to work as a delivery driver. Then some struggles happened after graduate school. I quit Starbucks. I know a lot of people love that place, but c’mon, I had bills to pay and I needed legit insurance. So when I left, I started writing for weed as a freelance writer. But like all freelance gigs go, my employers ghost on me.
But guess what? I still work in weed. It pays twice as much as when I was working as a barista. And I get to smoke the good good on weekends.
A lot of people frown upon the fact that stoners aren’t reliable. I mean, seriously, I still have a job. So, I guess Karen can go suck it while I toke on my Backwoods blunt.