Alright, so there’s a possibility that I wrote about this at the time, but I haven’t been able to locate it, though admittedly my titling is pretty crap most of the time and I’m no feeling like diving into every post I did around that time, though admittedly there aren’t too many and it’d take me a few minutes at most, but I’m lazy, so I won’t.
2015 was a good and a bad year in a few ways, and I might end up writing about it a bit as I think doing so would benefit from the distance. Today’s writing is about something that happened in 2015 so I should probably stop procrastinating and get right into this tidbit.
Actually one more thing; Whilst this story involves them, I am neither for nor against drugs. I believe that people should be allowed to make informed decisions about what they put in their body and I think that decriminalsation is important. Through this there’d likely be more care available for people who overdose or have an addiction. Furthermore, we need to stop pretending that alcohol is safe as it’s not. Just because one is more openly socially acceptable than another, doesn’t mean it’s harmless.
Anyway this happened in 2015; the year I went to Japan, the year where I was working between ninety and one-hundred-and-twenty hours a fortnight up until that trip to Japan and the year where, after said trip, I started working on taking photography much more seriously than I was. It was the year I read Finnegans Wake, and the year someone and I went our separate ways a second time in a manner that I could’ve handled in a much more mature fashion. It was the year where I started full-time study, and the year I was made redundant from a place I worked for seven-and-a-half years to the day.
Including all the small stuff, it was a pretty packed year.
We were going to have an end of financial year work party, but as we were being made redundant at the end of the year we were thinking of it as Christmas in July, or at least I was. I’m pretty certain we’d had mid-year parties before, or at least parties before Christmas, but right now I can’t quite remember and it’s not important anyway.
A lot of us were looking forward to the party and a lot of us were looking forward to redundancy. Me not so much as at that point I was in my late twenties and had been working since I was sixteen. I didn’t have much money and so the possibility of not having an income left me pretty worried. It didn’t get in the way of my looking forward to the party, however.
The plan was to head home and relax for a bit, then walk over to Darling Harbour as the party was focused on drinks and bowling there. As I lived in Glebe the walk was going to be an easy one so I had plenty of time to stuff around.
A few weeks prior to the day of the party I’d spoken to one of my coworkers – Macy – about having some pot cookies made. He had to think about it, but ultimately was fine with making them and so on the party day he came into work with a batch. Not having made them before (or, at least not having made them in a long time) he was uncertain of how effective they were and so he gave them to me for free. Macy also told me that he’d used an ounce, fairy dust, a bit of used stuff and threw in a fifty for good measure.
We each had a cookie shortly before leaving work and figured that, what with edibles taking a bit of time to kick in, we’d be fine, which we were. Macy gave me a lift home, we talked a bit about whether we were feeling anything and we kind of were but it may have been the aftertaste, and when I was getting out of the car we discussed getting to Darling Harbour at around the same time.
I headed on inside and I think I relaxed for a bit. Probably listened to music or did a bit of gaming. Not sure and whatever I did is immaterial to this recounting anyway. Life happened; I experienced life.
Eventually I started getting ready and I think the cookie properly started kicking in a little before. Of course it started slow and gradually increased in its intensity, as is the way with edibles. I was worried about going out with my eyes being bloodshot, which they were becoming and so I looked for eye drops. I couldn’t see any and so I called my housemate Jer as he was out, and he thought he may have had some but they would have expired.
The high kept on increasing and I kept on hoping my eyes would become less bloodshot and I kept trying to muster the courage to go out my front door. I messaged some coworkers to see when they’d be heading on out and kept going through the cycle.
It’s probably a good time to mention that this wasn’t my first time with edibles. I’d had them before and that was an intense time which I might write about down the track. I’d also tried making some butter myself once and that was a fair bit weaker than I thought it’d be, which was fine, but I knew that the high being strong wasn’t unexpected. The cookie I had seemed to keep on going. I’m sure it did eventually, but it was as though there was no peak to the high.
I’m not sure how late it was; it might’ve been around nine, but I messaged one of my coworkers, told them I was on my way. I did a bit more pacing, left my room, did a bit more hesitating in the hallway, then told myself I was going to do it and I was going to go. I walked to the front door and when I got there I turned into my bedroom and went to sleep.
The following day I woke up and felt pretty good. Had a decent sleep which was good as I had to go to work. Got ready, all that stuff. Headed off to the bus stop, resumed where I left off with Finnegans Wake. I’m not sure if it was on the first or second bus, but after a bit of time reading I realised that I’d read the same paragraph for a few minutes. I then realised I was still high so I put Finnegans Wake away and I can’t remember what I spent the rest of the time on the bus doing. Probably looking out a window.
The high didn’t wear off until a few hours into work, which is not what I wanted but had to deal with. I think I got some things done whilst still high, but probably not enough.
It was either that day or a few days after that I got to hear about what happened at the party, or at least a few details. My coworkers weren’t surprised that I didn’t make it, but they also were laughing about it as I kept saying that I was going to be there. The bowling went well and Macy, who if I remember correctly hadn’t been bowling before had a good time.
He got a strike after someone told him that the bowling ball was a cookie and I was the pins.
Over time the remained of the cookies were eaten and they were all intense. They were mostly good times and I’m glad they’re in the past.