This is a blog post that serves no real purpose

Man, I love edibles. The consumption of edibles and the subsequent high experience takes place in three stages:

Stage One: Consumption

Stage Two: Waiting

Stage Three: High

And sometimes,

Stage Four: Completely blasted to smithereens

I am not a fan of Stage Two. At times, this works, such as when me and my friends go hot tubbing at the gym. At the locker room, we ingest the edible and chill in the hot tub as the feeling of the high creeps in on us (Sometimes it doesn't creep, sometimes it slams you like a fucking train).

In general, taking edibles with friends is fun because you get to see if it'll hit you at the same time or not.

Tonight, I am not especially fond of the waiting stage. I greatly desire to sleep.

I really enjoy the effect of an edible when I am needing help sleeping. It is a body high that can often be much stronger than normal smoke inhalation. The high can be strong that it reminds me of my "greener" days (lol), when, young in this art that I was, smoking would annihilate my body in the best way possible.

As a more seasoned toker, this effect can be much harder to obtain. Luckily, an appropriate dosage of an edible can get me feeling the same way.

By now, perhaps an hour or more so in after my initial consumption, I am beginning to feel the high. I am hoping it will get stronger as time progresses.

I have been having trouble falling asleep all night and it is annoying me to my wits end. I only got four hours of sleep today, and have been quite tired and sleepy. Just can't fall asleep. I did have coffee today, but that was twelve hours ago.

This is a major and frequent source of annoyance in my life. I hate this feeling. My body is tired but my mind is much too alert. I did not even plan on getting high.

I often smoke just for fun, but in many cases, just to help me fall asleep. I am so thankful for this medicine. It has really helped me the past two school quarters. It helps me relax so much, and get enough sleep so that I can stay sane.

I am much calmer now that I feel this marvelous plant in my body.

Anyway, I have a lot in my mind right now. There is so much to think, do, and write about, but all I could do was write this post about edibles.

Sigh.

I do not look forward to the tired feeling of tomorrow.

My bong has been castrated.

It happened shortly after I published my last post. I was successfully doing homework (I was very productive that night) and had to print something. Unfortunately, my attempts at plugging in my printer resulted in me knocking over my bong, which was on the floor, on carpet.

After knocking it over, I let out a short gasp, then felt relieved when I only saw some water and glass on the floor.

It was then that I saw a shard or two of glass.

The gasp that came out of my mouth was quite ghastly and surprised and strained.

I felt miserable. The part that broke is the part that holds the stem up. Fortunately my bong is very usable still, even if I hadn't used a bandaid to fix it. I will buy super glue and attempt to piece this little gem back together.

It will be okay, it will be okay, I want to tell myself, as I rock my body back and forth and rub my hands together like someone coming off a coke binge (not that I would know what that feels like).

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Anyway, I'm on an incredible sleep deficit right now. It happens every week. The past thirty days I have pulled at least 4-5 all nighters, if not more. If I am lucky, I can get more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night. No naps, either. It is completely miserable.

Typically I get one day a week of sleeping in, which is Saturday night to Sunday afternoon. I had a huge essay due today, so I straight read my books from 3 pm-2 am Monday night. Which is the night that I broke my sexy bong.

On Tuesday I woke up at 6 am after a four hour slumber because I had a hefty amount of Chinese homework due at 10. I did something pretentious and rather sophisticated, which was go to Peet's in the early AM. It was nice to be the youngest person there and feel comfortably invisible. All around me were older people having sophisticated talk. Three men nearby talked about the girlfriends of their younger lives. They were not vulgar at all. One man talked about how, no matter how fun a crazy, adventurous chick is, she will bore you after a few short years -- it is best to settle down with a nice girl. How nice! (I went to Starbucks today, by the way. Why is it that younger people hang out at Starbucks and older people hang out at Peet's?)

I had lunch with Felicia and went grocery shopping with her. Then we went to the library for god knows how long. I managed to finish both of my books and write an outline of my essay. I was so tired. My face felt like it was falling off and it was a real labor just to understand simple things. I was in bed by 12:30 am and felt as though I were about to have a psychological breakdown. My body hated me, but my mind was racing. It was the stress. I felt like screaming.

Fortunately I fell asleep, and my alarm woke me up at 4 am this morning. Writing my essay was painful, and I am disappointed in my quality of work because I know I could have done much better, and was forced to leave out much of what I had planned in my outline due to time constraints. So my essay probably seems messy, unfinished, and careless. But I turned it in.

I went to the bookstore to study (more like, I lost one of my books that I had bought for CHN 106, so I go to the bookstore and illegally study there by using their books). As I was walking among the shelves I felt incredibly sick. I felt lost in a white haze and felt my body starting to sway. Was I going to faint? I grabbed hold of one of the shelves and stood there for a good thirty seconds, allowing my body to come to. Then came incredible nausea. My head was pounding and had the strangest sensation. I don't really know how to describe it, except it felt like there was straight murk in my brain, swirling around in madness. I could almost hear it, it seemed.

I paid careful attention not to vomit on the girl in front of me, because I literally thought I was going to. I also felt utterly confused; I didn't know where to find my book. Skipping class was not an option as I had a mandatory quiz to take (quizzes sum up 50% of my class grade, and I am doing poorly in this class). Well, no, I'm not crazy. I realize that this dramatic effect on my health is enough reason not to go to class, quiz or no quiz. But I sat down after finding my book and started feeling much better and more normal. I ended up going to class and it wasn't horrible. I don't regret going.

I went home and slept, not setting an alarm, but woke up at 7, rather disappointed as I had only been asleep for 4 hours, and couldn't fall back asleep. That was fine though, as I am now awake since then and have plenty of schoolwork to do by tomorrow. I feel good, despite a pounding headache. I will try to get more sleep tonight.

I realize that this post was quite boring and rather pointless. However, I suppose I'm trying to cognitively tell myself I need to plan things better. I could benefit from utilizing my weekends better. At the same time, I feel I deserve to have some fun on the weekend. I could also work less, but I really don't work that much anyway, and I really need the $$$.

I've already decided not to do my internship this quarter. I can hardly fit it into my schedule anyway, so that makes sense. It also seems as though I won't be able to do my triathlon in April. At first, this idea killed me, but after the past few insufferable weeks, I think this is only fair to my body and mind. I can't afford to train right now, although I will try to hit the gym when I can still, or else I will go BONKERS.

I'd like to think my body and mind can endure anything, but in truth I'm only human and need to take myself less seriously!! Really, though, I looked utterly horrible today. I looked like Satan. I have never seen myself look so ugly. My skin was fucked up, blotchy, and dehydrated looking and my eyes were red. My hair looked drab. My mind, in a haze.

We are mid-quarter already, and the quarter is only going to get more lethal. I have finals in a month. That idea is crazy to me. I only have one more year of college left, but it seems I still haven't adjust to the insane quarter system.

I was so psyched to take humanities only courses this quarter, but I find that these classes are keeping me even more busy than the math/science classes I used to take. (This makes sense due to the insane amount of reading and writing I have to do for COM 135, but also because I care so much more this quarter about my grades and my major than I ever did about science and math.)

So I am tired and undernourished, sleeping in 2 to 4 hour cycles, and as a result, unhappy and agitated. Still confused about my future, still a pothead. Whatever, I will get over it. Resilience is key, bouncing back and proving yourself wrong is crucial. (Do you sense a contradiction here? I do.)

I am choosing my classes for next quarter tomorrow, and will be more careful in my planning.

To come anew and chronicle my day

Goal: to write about something else other than weed...

I woke up much more tired than usual. While I regularly put my body through sleep-deprivation hell, the previous night of sleeping at 4 am and waking repeatedly throughout the night till 8 am really got to me. My lovely cats, hard to be angry at them for being the naturally boisterous and loud creatures that they are. It has become apparent the past few weeks that if I am to smoke to sleep, I do need to go for more sleep-friendly strains...

Who can recant a day's memories and make them seem interesting, beautiful even? Not me, for another day is just another day of boredom. A dull day.

Between class, I worked on an essay (yawn). My creative juices began to flow (this tends to happen when I'm tired) and I ended up writing a somewhat depressing piece, which I'll post some other time. It could be a little better, not that I'm willing to spend a lot more time on it. The utter pointlessness. Then more class. Then another. Yawn. My mother calls me to yell at me, and I feel terrible. But, yawn. I study at the bookstore and let my eyes travel upon new titles. I touch them, beautiful, lovely books.

But I am tired, you bore me.

Then darkness settled in. Darkness like curtains being drawn on a sunny day, and all you'd like to do is go out and play. But no. A refusal from some outside force, it might seem, or perhaps it is my natural inclination for this darkness. All at once, I felt -- alone, stupid, small, insignificant, crazy. Darkness, in the sheer darkness of past sunset, in Davis, CA, I felt I blended in with the shadows better than the color black. The chill in my bones. Ash and soot. In the worst mood possible. A leave-me-alone mood.

And I walked home and I tried to let it past. Thought of remedies and things that would make me feel better without lashing out on others. But it would not past, not for a while. I had some food and felt better, then smoked, and felt a whole lot better. Six hours and two bowls later, yeah, I feel a whole lot better.

I'm confused...confused as to why I feel this way, so frequently that it's almost every day. It often comes in moments, can last hours, can drag on through the whole day, draining my energy, my totality and vigor for life. I've been trying to be more forgiving to myself, but with some hard thought, I don't think it's normal to be as emotionally unstable as I have been feeling lately. Very fragile. It comes and goes. I'm functional. But 'depression' should not be a function of myself.

There is more I could say, but my brain aches and 3am has found its way to me. Incense lit, and cocooned till tomorrow. Another day to be tired. I hope for the best, tired person.