This morning my head hurts, as it has every morning since I've been here. I am sipping lemon ginger tea while watching the snow, dark mountains, bare trees, and sky change from rose colored to a full range of yellows. I am pleased with myself because I managed to cut off my dreams of past lives at 7 a.m., that is three and a half more hours later than yesterday. If I continue at this rate, I will wake up at 10:30 tomorrow, which will be 18:30 at my home in Berlin.

home?

Cornstarch squeaks and crunches under my feet. I feel like I am in a movie set for "Fargo". Surreal. No cars, no trains, no subway, no cobblestones or pavement, no cell phones, no street signs or public trash cans, no buildings, houses or shops. Well, there is one house, and that is where my mother lives. I am struggling to reconcile the knowledge that I grew up in a place similar to this, and the overwhelming feeling that I am an alien on a foreign planet.

I am a cliche.

pot

Can I tell you how scared of pot I am right now? I just had a talk with my roommate about it and she told me about an ex-boyfriend of hers didn't have a fridge (because his ex-girlfriend took the old one) and started everyday by saying he would go out and buy one. Instead of doing it, he would go down to the bar, have a beer and smoke a joint. Apparently, he had had a really difficult life and my roomie maintains that he wasn't strong enough to deal with it. He got together with her because "one thing led to another", had two affairs for the same reason, and basically lived his life like so many potheads-just hanging out, ready to be carried by the next wave that came his direction.
Many of my friends and acquaintances smoke pot regularly, and I smoke when I am with them. They are wonderful, talented people who have traveled a lot, are caring and sensitive, so am I. they have unrealized ambitions, and so do I. This is beginning to sound like a fat lady joke. I have gotten myself out of corporate American and the 9 to 5 world in order to have more time to be creative and live a healthier, more relaxed life. Is it working? Or am I becoming a failure? Am I going to get caught in the sticky web of druuugs and lose all of the drive I ever had, while being seduced by that fuzzy warm forgetfulness that lets smart people forget they are smart and remember how much they need to chill man. I have a hard enough time motivating myself to make art, I don’t need pot to make it harder. I am hereby swearing off pot… until the next party.

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