How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sunshine


“Don’t do it, Debbie!

Debbie, a good friend, is holding a small square of notebook paper in her palm.  In the very center is a tiny mound of bright orange powder.

NOOOooo!!!

Pile of Orange Powder

Imagine a Brighter Color–Closer to Pixy Stix

“Don’t do it!  You know what that stuff can do to you!  Do you want your kids to be messed up?”

The paper contains a tab of Orange Sunshine, the weakest form of LSD.

Naomi and I are trying desperately to talk Debbie out of taking it.   We believe the adults when they say her genes will be messed up (they were wrong, but this was long ago).

This is the third day that Debbie has been considering her dangerous choice, and the third day we have been trying to prevent her.  By now, the paper has been worn into thin creases from being folded and unfolded so many times, and it is damp with perspiration.  Some of the powder has spread into the creases until the orange color now looks like a little cross.

It’s no use.  We are losing the battle with Debbie—she lifts her hand to pop the packet in her mouth.  So, I quickly grab it out of her hand, pop it into my own mouth, and swallow.  No heroism, no planning, just the instinct to protect a friend.

Debbie and Naomi are, of course, very curious about the effects, but we are all three disappointed that there are none to report.  It is near the end of the school day when I down the drug, and I go about my normal end-of-day business with no unusual effects.  Three o’clock finds me standing near the front school entrance, waiting inside for my bus to pull up.   The principal’s office, with walls of translucent corrugated glass, is adjacent to the lobby.

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b132/julieannakatrina/glass-panel2.jpg

Corrugated Glass

As I wait, I find the glass quite interesting on this day.  I note that, if you move your body from side to side, the shapes you see through the glass change in a fascinating way.  I wonder why I never noticed that before?

So there I am, swaying my entire body side-to-side, alternating from foot to foot, when the office door suddenly springs open and out pops the principal, just like a Jack-in-the-Box.  Whoops!  I now realize I’ve been acting a little…off, and await my dire fate.  Here it comes…

“Would you like to come in?” asks Mr. Evergetis.

I don’t say a word—I’m not certain I can speak, by this point.

Ditzy Photo of Erin Burnett, from Business Insider (http://static8.businessinsider.com/image/4cd31582ccd1d58445040000/erin-burnett-ditz.jpg)

You Talkin' to ME?

I smile, and walk inside the sanctum of sanctums.

“Have a seat.  Would you like a coffee?”

I just smile, and nod.  Mr. Evergetis hands me a hot coffee.

“How are you doing?  Are things going well?  Anything you’d like to report?  Any particular difficulties?”

I shake my head ‘No’.  I’m having a lot of trouble keeping my eyes on our principal’s beaming but decidedly bland face.  The fascinating glass walls beyond his head are drawing them away like magnets.

“Well, you know my door’s always open.  I like to think that I’m a friend to the students here.”

Sucking Up, from Business Day (http://images.businessday.com.au/2011/11/24/2794534/art-suckingup-420x0.jpg)

A Friend to All

If my eyes could roll at this point, they would.  But they’re too busy:  There’s something big and yellow filling up one of those wonderful walls.  It seems like it should be significant to me.  Oh!  It is!  It’s that thing I’m supposed to go home on…what is that thing called?  Uh…uh…  My words have entirely left me.  I raise my coffeeless arm and point out through the wall.  Mr. Evergetis follows my arm and sees…

...my school bus pulling up.

“That’s your bus?”

I nod.

He jumps up and holds his office door open for me to exit with my coffee.   Then, Mr. Evergetis, the principal of our school, actually runs out of the front door of the school to my bus, directs the bus driver to wait for me, and holds the front door of the school for me. While the school’s entire bus-riding populace watches, I slowly and carefully walk my stoned-ass self out to the bus and down its aisle, hot coffee held high.

Yeah. We Cool.

Now, that was a trip.

I Am Ur-Woman, Hear Me Roar Mantras

References:

The photo of Orange Sunshine is actually a photo of Mandarin Orange Dust from Pen & Fork, made from dehydrated clementines.  Dare you not to salivate when you think of the flavor of chicken or ginger cookies when you sprinkle some!  And check out the site’s clever zucchini canapes.  (Would have never thought to use a melon baller on zucchini…)

The clean folded paper, prior to my addition of sweaty orange sunshine, was courtesy of Squidoo.

Squidoo Basic Square Paper Folds

Basic Origami Square Paper Folds

The French coffee animation I couldn’t resist, though it didn’t really fit the post, but its title its author should have resisted–use of the term “retard” is equivalent to use of “nigger”.

No one can predict what an acid trip will be like for someone else.  You can’t know yourself what each trip of your own will be like.  I only tripped three times–each different:  One started out fun–the one described in this story–and ended horribly–acid was the boss of my brain and the awful ride wouldn’t end.  One was a positive experience all the way through.  The last time, on windowpane, I got my first hallucinations–visuals exactly like the video below, but in my case, positive, with M.C. Escher lizards crawling entertainly through a shag carpet.  But the auditory hallucinations were maddening and wouldn’t stop:  Imagine birdsong transformed from melody to a piercing, repetitive, scraping sound.  It was a beautiful, sunny day, the drug added wonderful colors to the light coming down through the tree branches, and I couldn’t enjoy any of it with one of the best parts of nature’s beauty ruined.

Video 1 of 2:  Excellent Portrayal of Shape-Shifting Hallucinations

I am very glad I tried LSD, and am grateful for the heightened appreciation of graphic design it left behind.  The good aspects were so interesting that I risked two more trips despite my first bad experience.   Surprising, it wasn’t LSD’s bad, but good that made me stop.   Compared to its vivid filter, the world looked so flat and lifeless when the drug wore off that it was difficult to get used to–like going from 3D to 2D, or a color television to black and white.  I remember it took a full three days after my last trip until things started to look normal to me.

Video 2 of 2:  Homemaker Made Inarticulate by a Beauty Beyond (Note Stress Caused by Researcher)

Life can be challenging enough.  A drug that makes the beauty it has to offer look dull and drab and dead–that is a dangerous drug.

2014-02-24–Um…forgot to an html link on my last update…rats.
2014-02-22–Replaced disappeared youtube vid with another link.
2013–Shrank images for phones.
 

Victory Over the Devil’s Minions


Sorry, devil worshippers. It is possible demons are present in this post, but if so, it is only in auditory form. I recommend you try instead www.icraveeternaltorment.com.

As I woke up, my sisters were talking to each other in the room we three shared at the time.  The problem was, that wasn’t all I was hearing.  There were dozens of other voices talking only to me:
 
Evil, loudly whispering voices of demons.

Demon With Big Schlong Mosaic

Imagine Lots of These Guys (Minus the Distracting Schlong) and Gal Demons Too, Angrily, Harshly Whispering, and Their Poisonous Words Going, Instead of Into An Eye, Into My Little Girl’s Ear

I would have thought the voices were leftovers from a nightmare, except that I was awake now, and they weren’t going away.

The sunlight was coming in the window over my sister Jill’s bed, and I kept hearing both my sisters converse, and these voices were yelling at me in whispers, and I thought I was going crazy, because Jill and Peggy weren’t hearing anything.

I decided that I would try talking, too, and then maybe the voices would stop. 

I began to speak to my sisters, slowly joining their conversation.  It was hard to do, because of the distraction of the other voices, but I was able to put in a few words here and there.  It didn’t help.  The voices didn’t stop. 

I remember I made a little high-pitched half-crying whine and pulled the covers up over my head, squeezing my eyes shut.  Of course, that didn’t help, either.    What was I going to do?

[https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8a/Scared_Child_at_Nighttime.jpg] By D Sharon Pruitt [CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Poor Little Muffin–Possibly Crazy As a Loon, Though

I took the covers off my head.  I looked around the room.  Everything was so normal.  Everything except the demons yelling at me in whispers. 

So I decided to ignore them.

Hear No Evil Speak No Evil See No Evil Monkey Carving

Simple Solution: Mental Monkey No. 1

That’s right.
 
I knew that God wouldn’t let demons have any power over me, and no one else could hear the voices, so I boxed them up and put them aside.
 
Once I made the mental decision that I was not going to listen to them or worry about them, but just go about my normal business, they immediately became less important to me.
 
By the end of that morning, they simply faded away.
 
The voices did recur a couple of more times in my childhood, and they were very frightening each time, but the same treatment laid them to rest each time.

We all know, because of the film A Beautiful Mind, that the schizophrenic mathematician John Nash heroically learned to ignore the illusions caused by his illness.  Well, guess what buddy—you weren’t the first!   A little girl named B. was.

  Good job, little B.!

You know what?  I’m a big grown-up now, rereading this, and I’ve decided I deserve yet another big pat on the back for being such a big smarty-pants, and for not growing up to become another schizophrenic bag lady.  Good job, B.!  I am so proud of you, since your useless mommy and daddy weren’t! You were a smart little cutie, and you still are!
 
NOTE: This was originally posted in Dec., 2011 as the second half of Victory Over the Devil”.
 

%d bloggers like this: