Welcome To My Bed

Going green.


So last night I finally got myself to the movie theater for the second installment of Marvel's version of summer wonderful. And as I was watching the movie and re-experiencing all that it means to be green when you're angry I couldn't help recalling an article I read recently in the current issue of Elle. One of their editors did a piece of her battle with anxiety and the medications that she's tried, eventually coming to the conclusion that pot was the best way to treat her condition. I have long been a believer in the many medical applications of marijuana, and this article only reaffirmed my stance on the way that I use it.

For my entire life, I have been the most anxious person I know. If a friend doesn't call me for two days, I automatically become wrought with all of these horrible images of them in a car crash or some other awful accident. And if it's not that, then I go over and over our last conversation, picking over details looking for something I did wrong, something I did to suddenly make me unworthy of their attentions. For lack of any other way to take out my anxieties I bite at my cuticles, only distracted from my worries when I have something small and consuming to do. Why I took up smoking cigarettes. Why I took up knitting. Why I took up journaling. My journals are horrific in the mood swings mapped out on their pages, and the people I trust enough to show them to are always surprised at the intense highs and lows I experience daily. So this Elle article was something that both amazed me and satisfied me; ever since the first time I smoked pot three or so years ago, I have known how powerful it could be as a regulated pharmaceutical. Not just for people with glaucoma and whatnot, but for people like me who are crippled by anxiety. Whenever I smoke, I am instantly calmed and evened out. Normally manic and fast-talking to keep my mind from jumping to awful conclusions about the things I cannot control, even James has said to me that when I smoke, I just seem okay with things.

Cut to Edward Norton's heart rate dilemma in the summer blockbuster mentioned about. Is it really possible that the Hulk, or rather, Bruce Banner, never thought of medical marijuana for his troubles? We all know that any extreme anger or anxiety causes him to "go Hulk". In the film, he uses breathing techniques to try to control this. But I think that as a scientist, he is overlooking a little green friend that could help keep him from turning into that famous green monstrosity. I guess Stan Lee was too busy drawing to toke up. Or maybe this just wouldn't fit into gamma mutation mythology. I have no idea. But it's just a thought.