Mary Jane.

What’s in a name?  To me, it ain’t much.

For anyone who knew me before UofG, you will know that I was withdrawn and shy.  I was anxious.  For this reason, I am glad I did not touch marijuana until the age of 18.

I must digress for the moment, because the above link links to The Huffington Post, and they motivated me to start blogging.  I could not believe that this image, created by a Facebook user (no friend of mine), received what I believe to be “foreign media attention” for being valid, objective journalism (my opinion will not waver if you tell me that a Canadian blogger wrote it.  Don’t know, don’t care.):

Created by Facebook user

Now back to my brief story: During high school, potheads would say my name, I would smile, say “hi”, then probably go back to my book or whatever.  I eventually had to ask my mom:

“Mom, why did you name me Mary Jane?”

I was named after my mother’s mother Mary, and my father’s grandmother Jane.  Both women have interesting stories.

Now, marijuana.  What a friggin’ “issue”.

I’m pissed off more by the other crack that gets into Canada.

The foreign drug trade (video:post-release cut is available on Netflix) is more of a human rights issue than oil could ever hope to be.

I think of these people and their suffering and I think of these people too.  I, personally, would give up tobacco forever, to enjoy the same freedoms that friends in Oregon and Washington are trying to protect.

Some control could eliminate our human rights issue of youth use being so high.

Mary Jane.