I am a lot of things; I’m a college graduate, a working member of society, a member of an amazing family, friend to astonishingly diverse people, an afraid artist, lost writer, outdoorsman, handy man, lover, and stoner. First and foremost, I am me. I am Frank Christian Irish. At the time of this undertaking, I am a 23 year old farm hand with a degree that is not being used. Instead of struggling to find a job in my field, I started working on a horse boarding farm, working my body to its limits in every type of weather conceivable, and I’m happy. In my spare time, I draw comics, help out my friends and family, hangout with my grandfather, and write. Like most Americans my age, I am trying to find my place in life while drifting through the social currents and stresses that accompany my situation. And, as I at this very second understand it, like most Americans my age, I’ve smoked marijuana. I was in college, drunk, curious, and able to do it, so I did it. I wasn’t pressured to do it, and it wasn’t something I had been around. During high school, I made it a point to stay away from it, was downright opposed to even hanging with people who did. That was just the way I was raised, believing that pot was evil and something that made you as dumb as a doornail. I was indoctrinated in what society viewed as a proper stance on a mislabeled substance.
For the rest of my sophomore year in college, I smoked once in a blue moon, usually at parties with the friends who introduced me to the wonderful flower. That summer, while home, I met a girl who would become my one and only for the next three years. She really blew the doors of comfort wide open with a wonderful haze of delicious blue smoke. I became comfortable with the idea of smoking more often, yet I still limited myself, concerned about a future I did not quite have figured out. After a one year tour as a Resident Advisor, I moved off-campus. On Thanksgiving night of 2009, I became a pothead. It wasn’t a question of whether or not to smoke that night, it was more along the lines of let’s get it done. Several months later, I shifted from pothead to stoner, where I’ve been ever since. Marijuana helps me function better while under stress and helped me accomplish much more than I would have if I had stayed an alcoholic with a close-minded view of the world.
This blog is an extension of the Flight Log, a smoking journal that I have been keeping for over a month, and working on for nearly two years. I MUST STRESS ONE FACT: This is entirely my own view of the smoking culture, and the comments and perspective are by no means intended to represent that culture as a whole. I am but one stoner, and to think I could speak for all of us would be asinine. So, please enjoy yourself, learn something if you feel like it, chill out, laugh, whatever. Just go with it.