Mild Mannered Reporter by Day ... at Night?

Most of my friends know me as that eccentric genius that is the glue that sort of bonds all the different type of people together. I take pride in being able to relate to almost anyone because I believe that we all have at least one thing in common.

What people *DON'T* know about me is my other side. The side that has fallen off the wagon many times over. That side that rides through life with wreckless abandon. That side that carries some sort of internal anger towards a complicated web of existentialist issues. I love people with all my heart. I generally can sniff out a bit of good in the most evil of people. Although the worst may do what they do with no remorse, I do believe in love and I do believe in compassion.

The most troubling aspect of my life is that I feel my time is running out. I don't know why, but I don't feel like the passion and light inside of me will last forever. You are probably scratching your head wondering just what in the hell I am talking about -- and I wouldn't blame you, either.

Honestly, I am overwhelmed by the world. I want to experience everything but realize that is all but impossible. The world is a huge place and I want to be able to live in all corners of it, but one person can not do that -- not in one lifetime. I would want to wipe away the tears of a crying woman and get to know her and help her, but my passion burns so intensely that I never really get the chance to be with just one for any length of time.

I just hop from one close friendship to the next because that is how it always works out. I have only myself to blame for that. I make the same mistakes over and over, because just when I am ready to embrace something with just a hint of resemblance to something permanent, I spring off into another tangent.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a pinball machine. Sometimes I am the paddle on the left side, sometimes I'm the paddle on the right. Then suddenly I'm the ball getting shot around until I end up ricocheting between two bumpers a hundred times -- god, that is painful. If that were the case, who would be keeping score of my life? Why did I end up in the 5x bonus hole when I could have ended up in the 10x or 25x bonus holes?

Then there are these great monumental disasters in life. A friend that dies, a parent that gets very sick -- a boss that tears into you at a moment of vulnerability that causes you two get two paragraphs into a two-week notice only to delete it and leave early for the day. Is this when the ball comes straight down the middle between the two paddles? All the button pressing in the world won't save the ball -- because it was destined to end up there. Sure, you can shake the shit out of the pinball machine, but then it tilts and the paddles turn off. That's when the ball just bounces around fruitlessly for a little while until rolling back and forth and dropping pathetically between the paddles. The end result is the same -- go out in a blaze of glory slamming the paddles while screaming as the ball disappears or throw the machine back and forth under the assumption that you can override cosmic destiny. Hey, I'm human -- I'm more important and better constructed than a silver metal ball.

Then there are the ultimately profound questions with no answers. If I can run 19.2 miles per hour, why can't I run 19.3? Is there some great mathematical equation that governs our lives? Are we merely little metal balls masquerading around as sentient beings with an illusion of control?

I sat behind a truck carrying large canisters of Oxygen. On the back of the truck were two signs. On the left was a green sign that read, "NON-FLAMMABLE." On the right, a red sign read, "FLAMMABLE." I felt a bit of insanity creep over me. I wanted to back up my car and then run into the truck at full speed to answer just one simple question -- "which sign was ultimately correct?"

... and that's how I feel that I've currently been living my life -- testing a hypothesis by the means of wreckless abandonment for the consequences. Some might call me immature while others would call me just another rebel without a cause. As a guy, I do enjoy dabbling in moments of chaos and order. I respect the intelligent planning and intense will-power to carry through with immense projects that bring order into our world. The beautiful and unique buildings, the bustling streets with cars, etc. Although it may sound sick, I also enjoy it when the wheels come off and I get to witness an amazingly violent and destructive train-wreck. Some are physical in nature, complete with huge fireballs, destructive explosions and shrapnel propelled at super-sonic speeds in all directions. Then there are the mental train-wrecks. We're only human, we do succumb to our environment at times. One of the most painful lessons in life is learning to ... no ... wanting to get back up after we fall -- figuratively speaking of course.

We also live in a world of blatant hypocrisy. As a kid, I grew up with the understanding that older people were always more intelligent and that the government was always good. As a thirty year old, I now realize that many people are lazy, self-serving and ego-centric individuals. Our government is merely a more unified collection of these type of people.

I was taught as a kid that drugs were bad and that drug-users were non-productive, wasteful, unintelligent, disease ridden, abusive and completely criminal in nature. Lo' and behold, as I got older I realized that everything I was taught about drugs was pure bullshit. Nancy Reagan's 80's campaign of "Just Say No!" may have been well intentioned, but she was probably victimized by the same bullshit rhetoric as the rest of us.

If smoking pot is so bad, why are cigarettes still legal? That's real simple -- our government is ultimately not geared towards safety or the common social welfare of the people but about money and power. Heroine, cocaine, opiates, benzos, LSD, barbiturates, MDMA, etc. -- they're all drugs that were once legal but eventually became illegal.

What's the first thing you think of when you hear the word "heroine?" Do you think of some guy in an alleyway or under a bridge tapping his flesh before shooting up his next dose? Notice I said "his," because drugs are always associated with males -- very rarely do you envision women with drug abuse problems. Very rarely do we hear about female drug dealers or drug use in general by females -- save for the runway models at the age of 12 that were already learning about coke to keep thin or the happy L.A. socialites popping vicodin before getting plastered on alcohol at a red-carpet club.

The government does not believe in social, responsible or recreational drug use because, as we all know, drug users are unproductive members of society that increase crime rates wherever they end up. Oh wait, I should amend that statement -- people that use ILLEGAL drugs are unproductive. Those that use caffeine, nicotine and alcohol are generally upstanding members of society. Also, people who use legal crack such as Ritalin or Adderall prescribed by a doctor are also productive. People who are prescribed anything by a doctor are productive -- this includes benzos for stress or sleep, barbiturates and synthetic opiates for pain control (but not mental pain, even though opiates are far better at treating depression than many SSRI's, etc.). Wait, this is the same as illegal drugs? Oh, they're controlled by the government, so that makes it all right. If you do crack on the street from a drug dealer, your ass had better be ready to do a few years, but if you're just an ADHD kid cranked up on Adderall, enjoy yourself.

We're flooded by a bunch of lies while we drown in their hypocritical nature. Drugs don't cause crime levels to increase -- the war on drugs causes them to increase. Why? Because when you make anything illegal, you drive up its value. Things that cost more are worth robbing banks to get. If an eight-ball of cocaine cost $25, I doubt you'd have as many shootings within inner-city ghettos. However, make it illegal and drive the price up over $300 and now there is something worth shooting over, right?

We have more people locked up in our prisons for bullshit offenses than all the European countries combined. Do you feel safer now that Joe is locked away securely instead of smoking pot at his house on a Friday night? I certainly don't.

Meanwhile, pharmaceutical companies continue to line the pockets of our elected officials with cash, free flights and trips to Vegas at the glorious Wynn hotel. If you think I'm paranoid, do the research for yourself. Look at how much money is contributed by pharmaceutical companies. Do you think that congress would EVER pass a bill on drugs that made sense vs. passing a bill that gave them a huge pay day?

There is an old saying. If something doesn't make any sense, just follow the money trail to find out why. If I go out to the corner to buy a dime bag of weed and get caught, I'm in some deep shit. Yet it is perfectly acceptable for someone to light up next to me and spread hundreds of carcinogens into the air for others to breath. Wouldn't that be a form of terrorism to some of our high-strung ultra-conservative elected officials? Shouldn't we ship all these smokers to Guantanamo Bay?

I apologize that this blog went off on a tangent, it was really meant to be two separate blog entries.