Saturday, November 12, 2005

Weed Smokin' Days Part 2

Two days ago, on BiPolar Daily: BiPolar Guy hits his first depression at age 13. In order to get out of his cuccoon he hooks up with some serious dope smokers and the A class swat morphs into a bong-sucking addict.

By the second year to last year of High school, I was sent to my first psychologist. I'd been caught bunking school (playing traunt (gotta translate these things for my millions of international followers)). I remember the scene clearly:

Monday morning. History lessons. BiPolar Guy half asleep recovering from the weekend's excesses.

A knock on the classroom door. The vice principal. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Forget-her-name, but I need a word with BP Guy."

Turning to me: "BP Guy - where were you on Friday?"
BP Guy: "I was sick, Sir, didn't you get my Dad's sick note?"
Vice Principal (NOT amused): "I've just spoken to your Dad on the phone"

Ooops! Not just a truancy charge, but a forged signature charge too. RESULT: BiPolar Guy off to see a psychologist.

Scene: The Psychologist's Office. "It's not just because of this latest incident that you're here BP Guy, the school has been worried about you for a long time".

Turns out that in the first year of High School they had done routine IQ tests on us new entrants and BiPolar Guy's was considerably north of the next runner up (who landed up dux of the school).

"So they're really worried about your general lack of interest in life, your total disregard for your future and the fact that you're hanging out with a crowd that will probably not even make it through High School."

Did that little speech make even the tiniest dent in my dope smoking obsession? Nope. Not even a speed wobble. Come to think of it, I was one stubborn bastard, which is probably why I landed up in another psychologist's rooms within 12 months.

Stay tooned for scenes from our next episode...


  1. Interesting that most of us began around that age, or at least during high school.
    I hope you're doing much better now.

  2. I STILL like my little forbidden smoke .. or perhaps sometimes (can I be more vague ?)even need it I guess.
    But hey ... I don't drink ! .. eh ... hardly ever that is ;-)

  3. Thunder & lightning, I enjoyed the storm last night as I do your blog.

    Looking back, my second manic journey had the sensation of being wrapped in the clouds of the weed of knowledge.

    I wasn't sucking mountain cabbage, but my mind was in that zone and beyond. My thoughts were the only fuel I needed.

    Needless to say, after a week of intense gardening my garden never looked the same.

    The night shifts were the most intense. In that zone, to nod off under a bush at the bottom of the garden, only to awake an hour later and say am I stoned ?

    Now I know ; I was manic, the other 99 % need the weed of knowledge to understand.

  4. Geez, a little truancy (like one day) and they pack you off to the school psychologist? Yes, I know, they saw "signs" all along of your delinquency...

    In any case, weed has an awfully bad rep...I think alcohol causes more mayhem by far. How many people murder others after a few bong hits? Too mellowed out for anything like that, I'd imagine.


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