Celebrating 4/20: Students, don’t let homework get in the way of celebrating this holiday

    Disclaimer: This entire article was written under the influence of marijuana.

    It’s a Tuesday night, I’m looking for something to do, and I’ve already seen a $5 movie at Century 12, which leaves getting high as my best option. It may make me sound like a lazy stoner, but hey, don’t judge — no homework and no class until 11 a.m. the following morning make the perfect recipe for a little weed on a weeknight. In honor of 4/20, I’m recording the celestial journey on which this weed takes me.

    via GIPHY


    Before the smoke session (Okay, we’d smoked a few hours earlier before that $5 movie, but I think at this point we’re back to the beginning). My friends and I decided we didn’t want the world to know that we’re low key stoners, so we tried to think of cool pseudonyms. After a lengthy debate, we decided on Lana, Bowie, Stevie and Morrissey after some of our favorite musicians (although Tiny Tim, Yoshi, Luigi, Puff, Edward Cullen, The Ganja Master and Dirtbag Banana Grams were thrown into the mix as well). As we arrive at our favorite smoking spot, Bowie and Stevie are singing "London Bridge" by Fergie, a masterpiece that has arguably defined our generation.

    11:50 - Mid-puff

    As we began to pass around a couple of pipes, our minds were already transforming under the influence of the herb.

    “The last time I smoked out here I ate these plants,” Bowie said as he examined the bushes surrounding us. “Do not let me eat these plants again.”

    “I think we should all be playing animals, like pig talk to snorkel face,” said Morrissey. What the hell does this even mean? Your guess is as good as mine.

    As we packed up our paraphernalia and headed back to our dorm, we had a terrifying encounter. A creature appeared before us in the path, and Stevie stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, fuck!” she screamed as she ran away. The rest of us prepared to scramble as well, but the creature backed down and made room for us to pass.

    Luckily, we made it back without being sprayed by a skunk.

    “What if we were all Snow White?” Bowie contemplated after the encounter with the skunk.

    “We’re the dwarves!” Stevie replied. Soon after, Stevie accidentally stepped on a little bug on the ground and stopped to try to save the little friend.

    Bowie screamed, “You killed one of our fucking friendly creatures! Now we’re not Snow White, we’re about to be fucking Elsa!”

    Apparently, Elsa doesn’t attract singing wildlife in quite the same way as the other princesses. Is it because she’s independent or because she’s lonely? Would she be happier with little animal friends? These are the questions that haunt me.

    12:20 - The drugs have infiltrated our system

    We’re curled up on couches in the lounge of our dorm, letting the weed take over our minds, writing down all our thoughts. Here you will see four very distinct types of high, all coexisting within the harmony of our beautiful Northwestern community.

    Lana: The Hungry High

    I’m thinking about Dr. Jean Feldman. I wish I had cotton candy. I wonder if my friends are writing better things than me.

    I wonder if my mom and dad are proud of me. Hopefully they’ll never read this.

    When I was 12 I really wanted to be a scene kid so I looked up “how to be scene” and read a Wiki-how page about it.

    Food is beautiful and nice and wonderful and I wish I had a big sundae.

    Someone walked by and gave me a really mean look. Was it aimed at me? What have I done?

    I wish I had cake. Popcorn. Wall. Peel the avocado.

    Clouds float unreal like a little green dinosaur and a boy in a red hat. Grass feels like a line in a book and trees look like magic that takes you away from here and you can’t look at the water without seeing a witch and you can’t see the world without seeing your own reflection.

    I was always waiting for the day that I would be deeply, truly, uncontrollably happy.

    I’m happy happy happy because there are french fries in Fran’s and snacks exist.

    Morrissey: The Deep High

    Sleep deprivation is the only thing we really know about and all the other things just keep us distracted from it.

    I hate One Book One Northwestern.

    I love McDonald’s. It's like an angel made it.

    I feel like music has the potential to completely transform a society mired in fascist agendas.

    This is a poem: I want to pluck the sun from the horizon and squeeze its pulpy juice onto my dry tongue, stop to wipe my lips on my dirty sleeve, and toss it back amongst the clouds— To pry the moon out of its dark oyster And string it proudly on my neck.

    I wonder if they're burying Morty in that big ditch next to University Hall behind the construction fences and PTI is just pretending to be him in all of their emails and dressing up as him for functions. That must be the only probable reason for a construction project they call "Geotechnical Investigation." Or maybe it's a secret underground crack ring being operated in the basement. Or meth heads, but they always cook babies in their microwaves.

    Ten thousand Japanese warships lay a siege on Northwestern.

    I wonder if Hillary is just holed up in her house with a bong.

    Bowie: The Confused High

    I remember the time when I saw Donald Drumpf Nay trump trump receive the republican nomination. in an airport. coteries of people displayed Expressions expressions. Harry Sally I remember when Hillary lost. I was sad. Jackie Kennedy was one of the most elegant women and Ch-- Mado- lady Diana Spencer My grandmother loved princess Die I mean die di roses. Lily is a flower lily is a favorite people. tulip poplars me encanta. They remind me of the Sundays of religious horror Exceptionally Lovely at the home of my grandmother- the one who didn't die And perhaps the food in Easter Was Decorously delicious sesame seed Mayo Sugar Broccoli salad Mix My friends And Or Both And angered onward by my weird voice Voice Low Unfortunately high therefore And meg Was both of these At one time we were in love I think Individually And now my mouth incurs the long hard pen--- Help

    Stevie: The Happy High

    Image Credit: Tumblr

    A lil chocolate bunny just fell in between my legs and I can’t find it. I think it got sucked down in a wormhole or something.

    I’m so happy its spring. There are gonna be so many baby bunnies. I usually have a lil rabbit nest in my yard every year, and I bet there are hella bunny nests in the shrubbery throughout campus.

    Do you think it’s safer for bunnies to make their nests in people’s backyards or out in public spaces?

    Humans are dangerous.

    I just ate fifty idly biddy (chocolate) bunnies.

    Whenever I’m high my mind always circles back to this photo. I call it “llama dog.”

    I held [Lady Gaga’s] hand for 10 seconds once and that is the thought I go to when I need to cry on command or orgasm.

    12:50 - The fun continues

    Morrissey writes, “Why is everyone just an old Southern grandmother?” just as we’re about to begin one of our favorite high pastimes: word association.

    Beach. Boys. Dinosaurs. Jurassic. Park. Parking. Parkour. Hardcore. Music. Stevie. Rhiannon. Fleetwood Mac. Bowie.

    We continued on, bouncing off of each other’s thoughts, taking full advantage of our colorful vocabularies.

    Cornbread. Black Treacle by the Arctic Monkeys. Harry Potter. Hermione fuckin’ Granger. Crookshanks. Celebration. Party. Fraternity.

    We take BuzzFeed quizzes to learn more about ourselves. I discovered the quiz I needed in that moment: Which Contemplative Fruit Matches Your Personality? Morrissey and I found out that we are hopeful kiwis, and Bowie is a cogitative lemon.

    Morrissey and I also learned some deep truths about ourselves by planting a virtual garden. I’m bold and not afraid to show it, and he’s humorous, with a sensitive side.

    The things we can learn about ourselves from personality quizzes truly are amazing.

    1 a.m. - Time for bed

    We will soon be heading to Fran’s for munchies and then departing for bed. In the meantime, Morrissey writes, “What if Vlad the Impaler came back to life?” As he typed that sentence, I spent way too long pondering the question attached to it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I have no answer. No matter what Vlad the Impaler does, I need to get some sleep, because after all, it’s still just a Tuesday night, and I have to be in class in a few hours. Happy 4/20 eve, Northwestern.


    blog comments powered by Disqus
    Please read our Comment Policy.