That made my day. In as far as it wasnt already being made by coffee, sun, weed, music and philosophy.
For your kind concern sir Ivers, it is much as both you and promethean say. And Pandora, I wasn’t posting this in pride but in defiance to such judgments as your own, which I know are the norm among noblewomen. I am simply no longer fearful that this stuff is detrimental to me. Whatever damage it could do it has long done and now I smoke about a tenth the amount of what I did when I had the best weed for the cheapest price in another country, and was slightly less aware of where the next stop was. That next stop turned out to be home, and a year of hard emotional work with other people and this is what takes me to where I am now. Sober, more or less, ready to stop behaving in terms of peoples expectancies of weed-smoking folk like myself.
When I started smoking weed back way back back I quickly noticed people began to be disdainful and that I didn’t care. It took me well over a decade to grow somewhat pissed off not in the least as rarely any of the sober folk was making any sort of sense at all in their lives. That still goes. There are very few lives lived by sober people that I would want to consider living. In the end the herb is given by the earf. It makes you a bit slow but also truthful and inventive.