Thursday 30 October 2014

When The News Triggers PTSD You Didn't Know You Had

So ... I'm officially grossed out with myself.  I grossed myself out.  Recently, news broke about a popular Canadian radio host with a velvety smooth voice and Bambi eyes.  I wasn't really a fan, but I knew who he was.  Jian Ghomeshi hosted a popular show called "Q".

Photo ops and marketing pics are so good at showing the sweet side of us aren't they?  I mean, Ghomeshi looks kissable, huggable even ... like someone you could really talk to.  So when Ghomeshi got fired last week because of two anonymous accusations of non-consensual rough sex, I cried foul. It bothered me that anonymous accusations like that could be so effective.  Didn't defamation require proof?

So there you have it.  Even a feminist like myself can at times jump to stinky conclusions that drip of double standard.

I've mentioned my own personal memory in recent blog posts.  My short term memory is sketchy, as I often walk into a room forgetting why.  But over the past year or so, I have found myself remembering situations that were long hidden in the folds of grey matter.  The past two days have seen me remembering situations unkind.  Hearing and reading the words of Ghomeshi's accusers have made me remember times where I too experienced unwelcome dominance from more than one man.

The worst experience, happened to be with an older co-worker who wasn't reading my body language or hearing my words.  In fact, if I hadn't had a very co-dependent Rottweiller at the time, this story would have turned out much worse. Sasha my beloved furry sister who looks down on me from above, was protecting me that day.  As this hormone-drunk middle-aged man tried to push me into my bedroom and shut the door, Sasha was having none of it.  I remember her panting and jumping around never taking her eyes off of mine.  One minute she was at my side, the next she was on the bed, reading me like a book.  Finally, he realized that I wasn't game for the game, so he left.  But I had totally blocked that out of my memory until now.

I'll also point out that I didn't shout no.  I didn't really say anything but push him away over and over. He was an authority figure where I worked, and one that many of us saw as a father-figure.  Each time the words came to my tongue, I remember thinking about how uncomfortable work would be. I didn't have a plan of escape, I could only kick myself for ever allowing him in my apartment.  Sometimes these situations and every poor decision is like a game of dominoes.  Why oh why did I ever say yes when he asked to come over?  Why oh why didn't I punch him or yell at him?

Do you see what I'm doing there?  I'm removing all blame from him ... and I'm placing it on me.  So wrong.  Societal influence can be in the deepest cracks.

The words and verbal re-enactment of another woman in regards to Ghomeshi reminded me of something I was told by a guy I grew up with.  This guy liked to also lure certain women away from the bar for quick romps that quickly turned into what he called a "grunch-fuck" ... similar to Ghomeshi's "hate-fuck".  Do we have a rape culture?  Do we have some men who use sex as a weapon?

I feel crappy today.  Is this what mild PTSD feels like?

I'm choked by the number of people who believe eight women would gather with the demise of an innocent man in mind.  I'm choked by the veiled misogyny I read in comments like one by a now blocked fb friend who said that:

"Jian seems to have a repressed rage which I guess is due to his generation having to "eat it" and act nice when it comes to women."

So in one sentence this guy effectively removes all responsibility and guilt away from Ghomeshi and places it squarely onto the women he knew growing up.  Right.

The whole thing blows me away.  I just have a lotta lotta Q's!

I gotta know, what happened to you Jian when you were little?  Is sadism a developmental thing?   Were you sexually turned on once when you got spanked?  I dunno.  Were you beat as a child? Did you like it?  Oh sorry ... that's usually your line isn't it?  Do you like that?  Do concussions happen from consecutive closed fist punches?  Can you get a boner from amicable love-making?  Is angry sex the only thing on the Ghomeshi menu?  Borrrring!

Furthermore, your success rate must be fairly low as I can't imagine many women are really up for the head-punching as an aphrodisiac.  But there must be a few?!  Tell us Jian, are there any women out there who liked your modus operandus?

Aw how I love knowing Karma is always there.  Ghomeshi may not get charged criminally for his severe style of BDSM.  But he's out of the CBC so that's a start.  One thing is for sure .... with this widespread media coverage, Ghomeshi shouldn't have any trouble finding women willing to experiment with him.  Karma promises me that one of them will give Jian a taste of his own misogyny.

Saturday 25 October 2014

Breaking Down Boxes With the Plant

My mental illness is such that once I'm in, I have a hard time getting out.  If mental quicksand had a feeling, this would be it.  I'm in it right now.  Just had a wee break-down of tears in my hunni's arms. The saltiness of the tears must have dispersed the sand particles enough for this bout of inspiration to take place.  Thank Goddess for those tears.

"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts." ~Charles Dickens

Let's see how long this quicksand dispersal fluid works.  So when I'm stuck, the thoughts are a circle, a vicious circle.  It usually involves me thinking or mumbling the same or similar phrases over and over, depending on the problem, issue, or trigger.  Cognitive Behavioural Therapy teaches you to acknowledge these actions so you may correct them.  But I'll tell you, my furry bff Molly is better than anything CBT ever taught me, though I admittedly didn't give it an honest try.  I know when I'm mumbling out loud nowadays, because she looks up at me as though it's to she that I speak.  Those sweet big brown eyes pull me back to the here and now where we all belong. What if all dogs are therapy AND go to heaven?  Oh I'm betting my life on that one.

I have the BEST arguments with my 'opponents' at these times, saying things that I normally wouldn't have the nerve to say.  I wish I could write more when I'm in the sand because I can have primo 'keyboard cahonies'.  When I write, I begin to feel that no one can interrupt me, no one can disagree with me, and no one can negate how I feel.  These words are mine.  I feel power from that.  In my zombie phase taking various prescribed concoctions of pharmaceuticals, I allowed other people to silence me, tell me how to think, in turn what to believe. Ideologies are huge and they can develop quickly without your knowledge.

Try to visualize and imagine a door that, when you try to open it, will appear to have glue or super-sticky gum all around the edges.  This gluey gum allows you to push it open a bit, so you can see the subject matter inside, but then very quickly it snaps back shut.  I can see it clear as day in my mind. Can you?  Those doors lead to the rooms that are the blog ideas I have in the back of my mind.  I've been working on them for a few weeks now.  I'm so proud of myself at times, that I can do this now. When I was on pharmaceutical antidepressants I couldn't even begin to hold, develop, and form stories and ideas like this.

My mind does work effectively .... when it's workin' effectively.

But it's that gluey gum that's the problem, that's my depression, my box called MDD ... Major Depressive Disorder.  It's funny now that I actually thought putting a label on my box would make it any less deep and constricting.  The only thing putting a label on your box does, is make you easier to prescribe to.  Sorry for that ... but I truly believe that pharmaceuticals took away a large part of my life.  I realize personal responsibility comes into play here, but when an already impressionable, overly-agreeable following type goes on antidepressant meds, they sometimes turn into zombies.

You've heard of the "Zombie Apocalypse" right?  Well I'm convinced all zombies are just brain and body damaged humans who prescribed to too many GD profitable meds in the hopes of attaining normalcy.

I and millions of other sufferers of mental illness have found something that melts that gluey glue.
Cannabis Sativa of numerous strains and ratios promotes new thought.  New thought can cancel out old, cyclical, damaging thought.  The longer I allow the cyclical negative chatter to go on, the more power it holds over me.  Like a tornado or the Tasmanian devil, the impulsion of that spiral grows with time making it harder to stop or pull out of.  For best results, stop it quickly.

Analysis of one's self is something that can promote mental and physical health.  I see and feel my mental illness changing.  I talk to myself a lot more than I ever did before.  Sometimes I say what I'm writing as I write it.  I worried about it on and off a few weeks ago.  But then I thought to myself:

"Remember Dianna how you felt no different, no better when the white-coats labeled you with MDD almost ten years ago?  Don't fall into the label trap again.  It is not accurate.  It is not real for me."

In closing, I'll share something that I thought the other day at work as I walked into the kitchen, and realized I had totally forgotten why I was there.  To be honest, some may argue the short-term memory loss thing in conjunction with Cannabis.  But I do believe it does effect me.  But that's why they make pens and paper and adorable multi-coloured post it notes!

Yes ... my medicine can sometimes hinder my memory.  But the last one completely suppressed my orgasm, my bowels, and my desire to write.

For me, Cannabis just makes sense.

My body .... my choice what goes into that body.

Tramadol (opioid) vs. Olive Oil Cannabis Infusion vs Coconut Oil Cannabis Infusion.

So many ways to ingest a medicinal plant!

Tuesday 21 October 2014

Different = Death in 2014?

I grew up in a teeny-weeny mid Ontario town.  At one point the population was 700 and that sign stayed that way for years and years until it finally got changed to 1300.  This town is nothing less than a gem amidst a cornucopia of forests and small fresh-water lakes, and that population quadruples every summer as tourists come from all over.

Growing up, it was known there were people who lived in those forests.  My Daddy grew up on the mountain and he knew one family in particular who literally lived in the bush and looked it too. Showers were not a priority.  Survival was.  And happiness ~ though different from the norm ~ was just around the corner with a trap full of dinner to boot.  They didn't believe in washing their plates after meals.  A quick lick clean and a flip-over was all that was needed.  And the tea was always strong and hot on the stove.

These men, and many more came into town periodically to stock up on supplies.  Their presence was easily noted since at times and with some, the billow of dust following was a reminder of the Peanuts' "Pigpen". The supplies they'd seek were mainly fuel for their trucks and equipment like generators or tractors. To be honest, I only saw these men from afar or from the other side of the counter at the gas station where I worked.  They were usually friendly, their skin rough and dark, worn down like leather from the great Canadian wilderness and it's sometimes harsh conditions.  The regulars at this gas station generally used these individuals to stay in touch with their surrounding nature.

"How the traps lately Fred?" they'd ask, "See many deer these days?".

These men were more accurate, and some undoubtedly hairier, than the groundhog at predicting the coming of Spring.  They saw the signs in the tassles on the trees, the chirping of the  birds, and in the wind as it blew.  Other tidbits of knowledge would be collected by "the coffee crew" ... the group of working men who would be waiting for me at 5:25a.m. to make the coffee and open the store.  These 'woodsmen' were akin to a virtual Farmer's Almanac for the coffee crew and they'd share the knowledge around our town.

These men were different.  And every rural town has a few, or maybe had a few at one time.  They don't follow fashion or health trends, they don't watch or own a television.  They live to be in the bush;  to be one with nature.  I couldn't help but think of those local men from my hometown as I watched the sister of Peter de Groot, the Canadian man, brother, son, who was recently shot by police in British Columbia.  You can watch the gut-wrenching 30 minute statement HERE.

Different.  What is that?  Is it something that we can easily accept?  Or does DIFFERENT make you feel anxious?  Suspicious?  Unsure?

Is DIFFERENT a reason to shoot?

Peter de Groot was different.  His sister attests to that fact in the video above, as she describes all of the ways in which her big brother was an enigma to so many others in his life.  Different is misunderstood every single day on this planet.  And that's a scary predicament for us to be in.

I love the verse by Cat Stephens:  "There's a million ways to be."  But do the cops know that?  I mean, in a world where so many of us are carbon copies of one another, can we expect our Law Enforcement Officers to be mindful of those enigmas?  I don't see why not, they're still human after all.  I am no expert, but from the information given by his loving sister Danna, a quick look at Peter's history could have cast some light on the situation.  Chronic pain and debilitating illness changes people.  Many of whom retreat and become reclusive as a means to cope.  Some simply feel healthier when they are away from all things modern.  I believe this was how Peter de Groot was.  I feel like I knew him, though we never met.

To Police, the "Woodsman" is different, dangerous, unknown.  Bile bubbles in my stomach at that thought.  I mean, how can someone with a complete and total aversion to wifi be a terrorist threat? Does "public safety" really trump LIFE to such an extent that we'll kill those different people just to be safe?  Why was no research done on this man?  Why was one neighbor's tip, enough to tip the scales?  So many unanswered questions.  I pray the family will find justice in this case, and in doing so, protect those others who wish to live alone in the bush the way Peter did.

RIP Peter de Groot ... I know with all of the certainty I can muster that you are at peace now and undoubtedly in a better place.  I hope his family can feel that in the near future as well.

"We are outraged.  My brother suffered unspeakable tragedy and pain.  He spent years rehabilitating himself from a debilitating condition.  Each and every person who hears this should be humbled to their knees with the honesty and integrity with which he lived his life.  Working so hard each and every day to overcome so many obstacles with the simple goal of being independent, free, and happy. He was killed for being HIMSELF!!".~Danna de Groot, Peter's sister.

Saturday 18 October 2014

Job Security vs. Personal Freedoms

I've been living my life inside a confirmation bias bubble for a few years now.  The bubble has meandered a bit as I educated myself with the help of my hunni, my like-minded online community and Mr. Google.  But for the most part, because of my own personal success story using Cannabis only for my mental illness, I'm a broken record of legalization raw raw raw's.

I read re-affirming studies, articles, and anecdotal comments daily.
I post and write about persons healed to share the wonders of this plant.
I brain-storm and stew about situations within this cause.
I see the whole medical industry and much of public safety measures through eyes who simply see injustice and double-standards galore.

Until very recently, I used to tell strangers that legalization was nigh.  Those of you who follow my blog can attest to that, but something happened recently that has me doubting the proximity of our goal.  A mere month ago, I could be heard saying often:

"Justin Trudeau is going to legalize Cannabis and free personal choice in Canada!".

But if I'm going to be honest with you, I'm no longer sure.

Someone I know recently got busted, we'll call them Jane and John Doe.  We live in a relatively small city of about 170,000 people.  My friend Jane ingests Cannabis for recreation.  But as with most of us, it also eases or aids some other biological need I'm sure.  John works a full time construction job and knows someone who knew someone and he used to provision his girlfriend's medicine in pound sized quantities.  He occasionally helped friends out also cuz ... hey you gotta get it somewhere.

In true William Shakespeare fashion~who undoubted partook in the herbal~ I wish to add an "Aside" here:

One argument for the legalization of Cannabis is that it will starve the black market criminals who currently profit from much of the Cannabis sold 'on the street' everywhere.  Why would we want to do that?  Because they are the ones who use Cannabis as a means to an end, the 'end' being the group with the biggest guns, the most ammo, the strongest reverse-engineered pharmaceuticals, and goddess knows what other new goodies they're evil minds can engineer.

Jane and John Doe are not these people.  If John makes any profit helping his friends out, he pays his rent or buys Jane dinner a few nights a week so she doesn't have to cook while they try to conceive a child.  Ya ... we're talking everyday people helping everyday people find relief from pain, relief from insomnia, and finding a few harmless giggles.  Now ... after you read the following, I ask you to comment with an answer to this Q:

How long do you think the resource distribution in Police services will hinder the realization of Cannabis legalization?

It happened late I think, as they vegged on their couches.  They rent their apartment on a super quiet residential neighborhood.  Their place is quite nice.  Three incredibly loud bangs on the door drew their attention immediately, and then the door swung open and in came 10 bullet-proof vested, machine-gun wielding Police officers who might as well have been SWAT for the effect they had.

The step-by-step details of what followed was never important to me.  And ... knowing and learning daily about PTSD and triggers, I never felt right asking the details.  We are affected much more than any of us will ever know.  I expect my friends to have side effects from this down the road.  Jane already finds sleep eludes her at times. I welcome any and all comments that will help me help them when this time comes.  At times, it is those of you who live with those of us with mental illness and PTSD, who can have the best advice on how to deal with it all.

I'm not even sure right now how long the 'raid' lasted, but it sounded mentally scarring to say the least.  I assume to these 10 Law Enforcement Officers, this is just a normal day on the job.  But for Jane, who had to strip in front of every single one of them, it will undoubtedly be imprinted in her mind as one of the worst days ever.  They mocked her tears.  No doubt in an effort to lighten the mood so that words might slip.  Who knows. I want to know something though ... of all ten, how many felt ashamed and embarrassed as she took her clothes off so they could ensure she hadn't been hiding anything ... as she vegged on the couch late at night.  I bet more than you'd think.  What a waste of time and resources.

What I learned is that they got a tip that there were other drugs there.  Which explains why they kept yelling "where's the rest? where's the rest?".  No doubt the officers see this all in micro view.  Myself I see it in one macro view, I'm sure there are many.  I'll suffice it to say that the accuracy of these "tip-offs" need to be evaluated further in my humble and uneducated opinion.  You'll see by the end of this post, why this tip was likely bought, paid-for, or a mere plea in desperation by some other everyday person who got busted earlier that month for all we know!

It was nearing the end of the month when this all happened, so John had pulled out rent money, which they took to be "proceeds of a crime".  But here's the disturbing part, and the real root and instigation of this long ass rant:  the officer-in-charge assured them that they could get that cash back when they gave him a name.  By the sounds of things, they weren't even really picky about that name. I'm envisioning a room down in the PD with a huge ass cork board with pins and yarn and in "Six Degrees of Separation" style, a whole crazy maze of who-knows-who, who-sells-to-whom, and who buys what and where ... out of all 170,000 of us.  Gosh who knew W5 could look like that!  But I digress.

So it occurred to me later upon hours of stewing about this, that every single person in my city who has ever been pinched aka caught selling Cannabis, is being pressured to give up a name.  How is this NOT inciting terrorism on a small scale?  No good can come of encouraging people to throw their fellow citizens under the bus to save their hide or some of their hard-earned money!  These people are not the criminals you need to be after and if you think that this kind "mystery building" will lead you to the Mothership of harmful narcotics, then I think you've been watching too much CSI:  Miami. I dare ask you:

How much of this ridiculousness is just Job security?

In researching this post, I couldn't help but use my Google images to help give a scale of reference here.   Personally, I think that ten Police officers with automatic weapons in that teeny tiny neighborhood of small war-time houses is more than a bit of overkill and much more dangerous than one pound of Cannabis.  I mean, what does that even look like?


So ... as ever I am at this moment attempting to see this whole situation through the eyes of all of those involved ... even the individual Police officers.  This is how they pay their rent or mortgage.  I assume they have orders from above to scour the city for all dealers of illegal products.  If the need for this "scouring" is removed, how will they be affected?  Will hours be cut because they don't have to 'build the mystery' using everyday people to find the Mothership?

Then I snap back into reality.  My city alone is over-run with Crystal Meth.  I hear through the grape-vine that there is Heroin too ... the real thing, and the man-made shit too.  Greys ... Pinks ... Percs ... you can buy any pill you desire on these streets.  But the popo are after the plant?  There is much to be done once this plant is legalized believe you me!  If only I were running the show eh?!

All in all, this whole thing is a big 'ol stinky buzz-kill and a bit of a slap in the face of my confirmation bias bubble.  What a mess.

If one pound of Cannabis requires ten officers in bullet-proof vests and ten automatic weapons ... what does a pound of Heroin require?  I mean, it's actually harmful and highly addictive ... unlike the pillow of herb they took!

I'm starting to see things clearly ... and I feel no more sure.  But one thing is for sure:

"A winner never quits, and a quitter never wins." ~Pharrell & Timberlake

I'll be seeing this thing through :)

Monday 13 October 2014

The Election Process vs. Mother Nature

Do you remember learning in school about visual marketing tricks?  I do.  I recall that manufacturers used to be allowed to write subliminal messages in parts of their product pictures ... like in the icing on Ms Crocker's cake.  I also remember the teacher warning us, in an effort to curb our tv watching no doubt, that if we watched a commercial too many times we'd begin to believe what it told us.

Those facts still go through my mind often as I watch the boringly repetitive commercials put out by all kinds of manufacturers on television.  I even catch myself singing their little jingles like:  "Whatever your normal is!".

Free markets, free enterprise, and capitalism makes all of this acceptable it seems.  Hypnosis marketing does indeed exist and has worked brilliantly for some companies regardless of the quality of their products OR the unethical practices they keep.  @pple being at the top of that list.  From here on, you'll notice that most computers shown on tv and in movies has that @pple logo on it.

But we have higher hopes for important things in this world don't we?  We as a democratic society wouldn't allow hypnosis marketing to decide the next leader would we?

It seems we would and the Kingston Mayoral race is proving to be no different.

Driving past the Princess Street Loblaws or past the Frontenac Mall area is simply gross in my humble opinion.  Every few meters we see a huge distracting sign ... and then another ... and then another.  Remember teacher telling us that you only have to see something a certain number of times before you start believing it?  Is this how the Mayor will be decided in my city?

Like everything, this sign thing has two sides.  I actually sort of like seeing the campaign signs on my neighbor's lawns.  It makes me proud to see them showing their political interests.  I personally shun that old adage of never speaking about religion or politics.  I wanna know what you think about those things and why!  And ... maybe if we talked about them more, we'd understand them more.

But the signs in public areas should be stopped.  They don't show a citizen's desired candidate, they only distract drivers, add to garbage pollution, and I dare say hypnotize some voters who will simply vote for the most recognizable name;  rather than the candidate that represents their interests best.

As though that weren't annoying and potentially distracting enough, now we also get to deal with the added paper waste of flyers and business cards being left on our apartment doors by a few of the Mayoral candidates.  In my building, those 5x7 laminated and brightly-coloured flyers littered the hall for days until my tired superintendents picked them up.

There has to be a better way.  I wonder now as I see numerous campaign signs simply lying on the ground~ their thin, sharp, metal bases just ready to impale someone as the gusts of Autumn wind carry them through the air.  Is there oversight on these signs?  Is there anyone who is keeping track of how many signs go out ... and then how many signs come in after our Election race is won?  Can we all agree that there should be?  I mean, if we the tax-paying citizens of Kingston have to dispose of those campaign signs ourselves, which box would they go in?   Blue or Grey?

And are they even recyclable?

Election campaign signs and flyers are akin to advertising.  In this case it hits me as hypnosis marketing.

That's not genuine Democracy.

Monday 6 October 2014

Cannabinoid Advisory Panels For All Industries!

It's been said so often in so many ways that there are a million ways to help in a cause.  The Cannabis legalization cause is no different.  We have so many spokes in that wheel.  We have load-bearing spokes, forward momentum spokes, spokes who's sole purpose is to support and steady the others. We have spokes with the loudest of voices, and we have spokes who attract followers with a mere whisper and a song.  We are all in this together ... that I know is true.

When you look at this cause and all of the people in it, we're like a big family.  Some of you likely think that's silly, as infighting and arguing is everywhere!  Sounds like a typical family gathering in some cultures!  In my opinion, the fact that we all really and truly want the same thing, makes us on the same team.  Regardless of our moments of friction.

The cause is also getting support from elsewhere.  In this case, intentions and reasons may not be so genuine, but regardless the numerous segments we see in television sitcoms is undoubtedly helping to normalize the use of this plant.  Normalization is key you know.  I mean, when you see someone smoking a cigarette, you don't panic.  But when you see someone smoking a cannabis doobie, you may.  Though one kills millions yearly;  the other has killed no one.  Yet it's more normal and socially accepted to smoke that poisonous plant that makes our Governments so many taxes. Normalizing the ingestion of the Cannabis plant means better health for almost everyone.  Everyone except those few who are allergic, and except for the bank accounts of Big Tobacco.  I personally, don't give any shits about their pockets.  They can retrofit.  Hemp is only a droplet of water away.

In the end, so much of the bitterness for Pot is the fact that it's smoked.  People will accept cigarettes as they almost have a cultural attachment not unlike Alcohol.  But smoking anything else must be toxic we assume.  Truth is, anthropologically speaking we Homo-Sapiens have been smoking all kinds of plants from the very beginning.  Some did indeed prove toxic, others proved medicinal. Without "Mikey-the homo-sapien" we'd have no idea right now which is which.  Thanks Mikey!

Don't get me wrong, I get it.  I grew up with parents who smoked but quit when I was very young. From then on, we were a smoke-free family and we despised the smell of tobacco smoke!  My sisters and I would get so pissed when mom or dad would allow a friend to smoke inside the house.  The stench lasted forever!  But now that I'm adult, I realize that that old adage "to each their own" is so far-reaching. We as humans cannot mandate personal choice. We can surely mandate who lights up in our homes.  But we cannot tell someone else what to do in the privacy of their own home.  Well, to a certain extent.

Just the same though, the entertainment business has advisory panels who tell them what they can and cannot show on tv sitcoms.  Smoking is not one of them anymore.  So how is a television program in the year 2014 supposed to keep up with this growing end to cannabis prohibition?  May I introduce to you ... the cannabis edible.

The instigation for this post was the latest episode of "New Girl" with Zooey Deschanel and many other awesomely quirky actors.  They decided the other night, to get wild with some Cannabis before attending a gathering together.  Smoking is not allowed so they ate pot brownies.

Now ... many of us rave about the cannabis edible.  Many of us have a good sized tolerance to the effects of Cannabinoids so we don't fear the edible.  But the reactions you see on television are rarely what you will feel yourself.  The pot brownie segment on "New Girl" saw those who partook perma-grinned and floating round the party in an ethereal-like trance.  It looked wonderful.  Wonderfully unrealistic, but great nonetheless.  You see, in this episode it was made very clear that the participants had not partaken in the herb in many many years.  Therefore, the trip would have likely been a bit more .... stationary, still, comatose, and chill.  Yes of course, there's a chance the dosing was correct this time. Perhaps all participants only ate a bit.  Not likely but maybe.

What am I getting at?  I'm getting at the same core problem I see in so many other things in this world.  I see a television program getting laughs, lauds, and viewers because they were so progressive as to include a popular cultural aspect like Cannabis.  But like so many other things out there, they fail to truly show you what that experience will be like.  Smoking or vaping MaryJane has one affect. Eating her mixed in anything, has a totally different affect.  Once again, television is inaccurately INFLUENCING us for personal gain and viewer numbers.

How many of you will eat that brownie expecting that result?  And if that brownie was meant for someone like myself who has a high tolerance for cannabinoids, the result could be less than pleasant to say the least.  My girlfriend just told me about one such experience where she thought she was being sucked into her couch~and not in the good way!

I may get flack for this post since many Cannabis supporters don't want anything negative spoken about our plant.  That to me is silly.  Life is about balance.  That which cures;  can too harm or at least make you feel pretty friggin loopy for longer than you'd like.

In the end, all I'm calling for is education.  Yet I see how asinine that is.  I mean, our Governments won't even allow our Medical institutions to study the effects of Cannabis.  How the heck is the entertainment industry supposed to know the effects?

In life, and in writing I am trying to finish with some form of a solution to the issue at hand.  After all, if rants solved problems, we'd be in a better state right now.  So I call on my team, my wheel, this movement of like-minded people to educate the masses on all things current and popular.  Be the educated voice who advises or explains.  Give tips on dosing when you can.  Our numbers are growing at such a rate, that I look forward to Cannabinoid advisory panels for Hollywood, Medical Industry, and all other idustries to advise about this new medcine that's been around and used safely since Mikey the homo-sapien sampled it for us.

Thanks Mikey!