DAY 03: On Being High and Wasted

Personally, there are only three times when drugs are acceptable. And they all, more or less, start with a “C:”
1) Colds
2) Cramps
3) C-c-kidney stones

Kidney stones are basically God’s way of telling you that he hates you. After nine hours of going through bodily hell, morphine became my own personal wonder drug from the heavens. I was saved.

I don’t really have much to say on the issue of drugs and alcohol. I just accept the whole ordeal as an inextricable part of college—girls in slutty outfits during the dead of winter find warmth from the alcohol burning through blood; guys find ways to make friends with people having nothing in common besides a mutual interest in drinking. The buses will continue to roll by packed with bodies reeking of sweat, alcohol, and throw up.

I’ve had my moments of weakness. It was this idea that I had one life to live, and that I wanted to “live” it. Somehow, I started seeing college as nothing more than an enclosed town for horny kids who placed getting wasted at the top of their agendas. I’m pretty arrogant, so I did place myself as having more class than the typically hormone-crazy college student. However, the curious side of me wanted a taste of that surreal world and the corresponding drama, the unknown, the naughtiness that it promised.

But I think I was disillusioned. Today, I honestly don’t have a strong desire to drink alcohol. I know that a letting go in the moment does not parallel with a much harder letting go of my problems. When I wake up, the problems will be there (if not more—I may end up with “$500 more in my pockets”). I want to find friends that are more than “drinking buddies,” I want to find happiness in more than a drink, I want to find reality over an illusion.

Plus, the idea of waking up with my hair tangled in a pile of my own throw-up isn’t something I particularly find fun.

--If you set a drunk person aflame, will they burn slowly in blue and green flames?