TUESDAY: PLEASURE
I used to come home from work every day and follow the same ritual: take a long hot shower, smoke a bowl, take a couple shots of Jager, chug a few beers, eat half a large pepperoni Pizza from Papa Johns, pass out on my couch between three and four am, wake up at five am to puke, and then again at seven, then sleep until two in the afternoon. I got wasted every night. And I wonder why I gained over forty pounds after dropping out of college. The problem was I liked to feel good whenever I could. I was a party animal alone in my one bedroom apartment.
I felt like I was making up for lost time: I was raised by born-again Christian hippies, and was never allowed to watch MTV or do anything fun with friends because 'God was always watching.' Candy and soda were restricted for special occasions, and I couldn't even enjoy pop culture such as He-Man and Scooby Doo growing up because the cartoons dealt with 'the occult.' When Halloween came around, my mom wrote notes to my teacher excusing me from class, because Halloween was considered by my parents to be a 'celebration of the devil.' If we were allowed to go trick-or-treating, we could only dress up as two things: a clown or a princess. When my parents got divorced when I was thirteen, we stopped going to church and I met my new Muslim friend Moe. I thought of converting to Islam to fill the void left when we gave up Christianity, but I decided against it. In college, I gave up religion completely. I told myself 'God isn't watching me,' 'their is no such thing as the devil, or boogeyman' and the 'occult' is just stupid. [ed.--Though I have been reading up on Buddhist philosophy recently].
But when I turned 21 and dropped out of school, I was looking for something, anything to fill the void inside of me that had been formerly filled with a naive devotion to God as a child, and in school a devotion to being a good student. I wanted to please other people, but when I dropped out of college, I had spent so much time being good, I desperately wanted to please myself by being bad for once. I wanted to fill the void inside of me with alcohol, food, and weed. I wanted to break all the rules; I wanted to party. That's why I took mindless jobs that I hated like the ten months of hell I spent working at Taco John's were I met a couple of stoners named Wayne and James who introduced me to weed.
I had to do a lot of research online for myself to make sure that weed was safe [ed.-The jury is still out on that one, but I still think weed is no worse than alcohol--maybe even better because an overdose of weed won't kill you. But if you drive while stoned, you're an idiot. I don't need a research article to prove that.] before I took my first hit when I hung out with my Taco John's friends after work. I spent my first 'kegger' at Wayne's place getting drunk, high, and playing GTA until I passed out on his sofa. I woke up several times to puke in his bathroom, and promised myself I would never do that again. But I did. Several more times, in fact.
But just like video games, I can't do weed anymore; it's boring. It might not kill me, but it will keep me from growing up, much like the older members of the meaningless jobs I work at. I can't remember the last time I smoked weed. I don't know if I'll ever touch the stuff again. I used to think smoking would make me more creative, but the reality is now that I have learned the lessons I needed to learn from Mary Jane, and can silence the inner critic without getting high, I can quit weed with confidence. I don't need it anymore. Beer is a different story--it's more socially acceptable to drink. I'll continue to drink in moderation on occasion, but I won't drink until I puke every night like I used to.
Food is different. I still need to eat. And since I need food to survive, I can't exactly give it up completely. But I don't look to food to fill the void; I'm trying to eat less 'fun' meals full of healthy things like vegetables and minerals, not cheese and pepperoni. I don't just eat as much as I can whenever I can anymore, I eat what I need to be healthy. And that leads me to the lesson that I needed to learn in the first place--moderation and self-discipline. People would tell me that drugs are bad, that alcoholism is a deadly disease, and that being overweight is detrimental to your health, but I needed to learn how to cope with life on my own without turning to other substances. I thought I could escape my problems by binging and getting high at night, but when I sobered up in the morning, my problems were still there, plus a couple new ones: an empty wallet and a killer hangover.
I've cut back on my earthly pleasures. Now I only order Papa John's to celebrate a real success like making employee of the month at Red Lobster, not just getting out of bed. I'm trying to drink less than a twelve-pack a week. And I haven't touched weed in a long time, and I don't know if I ever will smoke again. I've learned my lessons. I've made up for lost time. Now it's time for me to be serious. Time to grow up. I can't just feed my immediate hedonistic desires and expect to feel good forever. I've learned this lesson, and it's time for me to be a mature adult now. It's time for me to kick my bad habits and find my real passions to fill the void. It's time for me to get high on life.
(Tune in tomorrow for more Passions. Like any good soap, I'm gonna save the best stuff for Friday...)
Peace.
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