Pot and Me.

This documentary showing a woman experimenting with smoking pot brings back memories of my own experiences. I haven't smoked any reefer for at least 18 years. My experiences were similar to what she experiences in the first episode. She describes getting stoned as the worst experience of her life and compares it to a very powerful panic attack. I still remember my pot experiences from college as some of the most horrible experiences of my life. I first tried it my freshman year when a fellow student named Liz invited me to join her and a few of the other stoners who live on our dorm floor. I got high a few times that year. Then I did it a few times with Tammy when I was seeing her my junior and senior years. I also did it with John a few times including one time when we were in Amsterdam after we graduated. Each time I did it I experienced heightened levels of anxiety and paranoia. I'm always introspective but with pot I became much more so, perhaps close to being catatonic.

The experiences I think most about are the four times I smoked pot with Tammy. The first time, I was visiting her home during the summer break. Up until that point, I had no idea that she ever smoked pot. I knew she liked to drink a lot but we had never used any other drugs together. Then, the first night at her house while we were sitting in her family room with her brother and another friend, she announced that we were going to get stoned. I remember her saying to me, "We've never gotten stoned together. Wow, it will be a new experience."

I should have said no but instead went with the flow. I withdraw into myself, not saying a word to anyone. I remember think Tammy was talking about me, saying how I was acting like I was dead. Or maybe it was just the paranoia and she really didn't saying anything about me. Nothing terrible happened but it was extremely awkward and unpleasant for me. The next night, we did the same thing and again I didn't refuse the offer of pot. Again, I became silent and withdrawn but nothing horrible happened.

At the end of the summer, she returned to school. The first week of school we were at Tavern Night which was every Tuesday night when everyone went to the Tavern to drink beer. While we were sitting together she asked if I wanted to go somewhere to get stoned. Like an idiot I said OK. She asked me if I knew a place because her roommate didn't like her smoking in her room. I suggested my off-campus house. So, we got the pot and walked to my house. On the way she asked me about my drug history and she seemed surprised when I said I had only tried pot a few times. She listed her drug use history which was much more extensive. I was taken aback by how experienced she was with drugs. Then she asked if I was uncomfortable around her. I think she wanted to get our relationship clarified. I was of course nervous around her because of my attraction to her but was never able to really talk about it with her. I started to clam up, denying that I was uncomfortable abut anything. Then we got to my house. We went to my bedroom. We sat on my bed. At first she said that she wouldn't give me any pot until I answer her questions but then she relented and told me to "take some drugs." Of course once I started to get stoned I became more withdrawn. She continued to ask me about my feelings. Then my housemates came home. When Eric and Andy came up to the third floor were our bedrooms were, I heard Eric exclaim "Who's been smoking pot? It really reeks!" Then Andy came into my room and saw Tammy and me. He said jokingly why didn't you save any for me?' and quickly left. However, Tammy became quiet. She started starting at a book on the floor. I guess my failure to answer her questions and tell her how I felt had gotten to her. She said she had to go and I led her downstairs to the door. She seemed upset and close to tears. After she left I felt horrible. I knew something bad had happened. I decided to run after her. I ran until I caught up to her a few blocks from my house. When I confronted her in the street, I tried to explain that it was the pot that prevented me from talking to her and telling her how I felt. I remember wanting to tell how I liked her but I was petrified that I would say the wrong thing or look foolish. While I was talking to her, I stepped toward her and she jumped back like she was afraid of me. She said that I wasn't talking to her. She may have been right, I couldn't break out of myself and really communicate with her. Instead I was inside my head and talking to myself. She left and I went back to my bedroom. I didn't sleep all night and felt this giant void in my chest. I felt worse than I ever had before.

Later she called me and asked if I wanted to continue our discussion. We went for a beer at a local bar. When I had a chance to explain myself, I admitted I felt self-conscious around her but didn't offer any real explanation or admit my romantic feelings towards her. For a few weeks we did things together as friends without much trace of romance. Then came the night when, after we left the Tavern, we went to her room. She asked me directly if I wanted her to be my friend or my girlfriend. I answered that I wanted her to be my girlfriend. A few nights later I was with her in the dorms when she again asked if I wanted to get stoned. Again, stupidly I said okay. I went with her and a friend of hers to a park near my house to smoke the pot. Her friend had never done it before. Tammy said that at first she thought pot was disgusting but when she first tried it she found out it was great. I didn't say anything. I still regret not backing out or saying how horrible I found the experience of smoking weed. Instead I went along and smoked with them. Afterward, we walked to my house. When we got there, we entered the house through the kitchen. At first we just stood there standing in the kitchen. I didn't say anything. Tammy asked me, "Well?" Later I realized that she was waiting for me to invite them into the house and offering them something to drink. I wasn't really able to reply. I may have weakly asked if they wanted a beer. Tammy and her friend were giggly and joking with each other. Tammy then said to her friend in a mocking voice, "Let's step outside" as if they were going to fight. They went out. I waited for a while and then I went outside and saw that they had left. I went to bed.

The next day I saw Tammy on campus. She apologized for leaving. The next day we went to a concert together. The date didn't go well and she wouldn't speak to me for days afterward. My confidence shattered, our relationship ended. When I think back, I know that smoking pot wasn't the only reason things didn't work out but I can't help but think they made things infinitely worse. The pot increased the anxiety and paranoia I naturally felt. Always awkward around women, I felt totally withdrawn and paralyzed when we got stoned together. I think my mood and attitude was effected by our getting stoned and her leaving a few nights before our disastrous date. I think back on these event with regret that I didn't just say I didn't like getting stoned.

The other times I smoked pot were similar. Each time was with male friends and so it wasn't as traumatic and my silence wasn't as noticable. But I never had a good experience with the stuff.

The George W Bush Sewage Plant

I like the idea of naming a sewage plant for George Bush. Think how essential a sewage plant is to society. The people who work work there are unsung heroes who are responsible for protecting the rest of society from unsanitary conditions. Just like George Bush, an unsung hero, who has spent most of his presidency trying to rid the world of human sewage - the brutal dictator Saddam Hussein and his henchmen, the brutal killers of Al Quaeda and the brutal theocratic tyrants, the Taliban. So, although the leftwingers who proposed this ballot initiative must think it's quite funny, I think it's an appropriate honor.

Leap Years

I went for a walk at lunchtime with Leonid, a former colleague of mine, today. While we were walking, he asked if a lot people I knew had recently died. He mentioned a number of his friends and relatives who passed away in the past few months and also referred to the recent deaths of Tony Snow and Tim Russert. He then made the peculiar observation that during leap years there seem to be more deaths than in other years. I had never heard of this. He even said that he had been taught this in school and that there was more sun activity during leap years. I was taken aback by this theory which seemed to me to be pure superstition. He grew up in the Ukraine. I wonder if this is a common belief there. According to some, the sun has been eerily calm recently.

My Disorders

Reading through descriptions of various personality disorders, the one that fits me best is avoidant personality disorder. Throughout my life I have had difficulty forming relationships with other people. I often worry about rejection and ridicule by other people. My occupation of computer analyst fits my personality because most of my time is spent on the computer, writing programs and working with databases. I wonder if it will ever be possible to move to a higher position of responsibility. Could I ever be successful in situations involving other people? In most social situations I say very little. At times I feel paralyzed and unable to say anything. This is particularly true in intimate situations. In college, I was unable to have a romantic relationship. The only time I came close to one was with Tammy. For an entire semester we hung out together but I was unable to really ask her out or initiate anything despite the numerous times she indicated her interest. Even though she would show a lot of interest and sometimes kiss me, I still didn't feel confident to ask her to date me. When she finally asked me whether I wanted her to be my girlfriend or just my friend, I did answer I wanted her to be my girlfriend. However, it only lasted about a week. After an awkward date in which we saw a concert by a major band, I said something wrong and she got upset. The next time I saw her, she wouldn't talk to me. I felt completely rejected. I believed I had been exposed as a loser and she wouldn't want anything to do with me. I knew I should call her but was so upset I kept calling the wrong number for a week. After a few days, she stopped being so upset and smiled at me when she saw me. When I finally called her I said I was sorry but didn't really know what else do say. I talked to her a number of times after that but never could bring myself to try to get back together or ask her out again.

I have a lot in common with those who are love shy although most men diagnosed with this have never gone on a date or had sex or been married. Still I share the same feelings and fears as the love shy. It's almost a miracle that I have ever had sex or gotten married. To this day I really can't initiate sexual contact with my wife. We go through long periods of inactivity.