love letter to mary jane

we could be a downtown couple; yea, i'd like that. living in this neighborhood, or downtown, either would be lovely. what a beautiful life, married to my best friend who's a neurosurgeon. i'm loving this fantasy world were i don't shame myself for dreaming that i'll find some fabulous man and have a fairy-tale ending (of my single life). sober i think about it, but judge myself; stoned, i think about it, feel happy, and acknowledge that my dreams just in themselves can make me happy. i'm happy to dream, whether it ever materializes or not. 

the joy is in the creation -- using what you've got in order to create is the best thing you can do, whatever that means in your life. you work a terrible job you hate your whole life, but you love making model trains for a hobby? if you enjoy what you create, that's all you need to achieve. not such a bad deal.

i'm enjoying creating these little dream scenarios where this is the 'romcom' of my life -- how i meet the one, the man i'll spend my life with. i spend the end of grad school stoned and writing -- meet the one when i've got a herniated disc, and during our first encounter he has to administer a rectal test of me. pure comedy gold. then in the month between surgery and a follow up visit with the surgeon and the handsome young-ish surgery resident doctor (or something) i smoke and dream up the best dream possible, only to have the young doctor step in and make my dreams come true. i'm loving even letting myself get this carried away.

i love smoking weed because it lets me enjoy what makes me happy, instead of telling me what should make me happy. we don't need as many reasons to be happy as we think.