Aboriginal civilizations around the globe historically used the psychotropic effects of wildlife (brightly colored frogs) to connect with the spirits/seek answers/reach enlightenment. The French called it l'heure verte which allowed for much needed Bohemia. The Inca people used a subtle tea to make a stand against the great outdoors. And here the lack of reference to the Middle East and hashish marks Eurocentric-Americanized problems of our education.
Back on track.
In Asia it digressed into dens. In Colombia it became a booming business using Mexico as customs. And in the culture I currently find myself immersed in, it became a tradition of stands, little johns screaming shots and a chalice full of Upton's jungle juice.
Perhaps that's why I've garnered a fair bit of understanding over the last 20 years.
I've never been afraid to get my heart broken. I'm always looking for that silly little feeling of awkward nervousness talking to a girl I find particularly attractive. Sometimes it's a quirky comment which falls in line with my own idiosyncratic sense of self. Imagine someone who gets the reference to a pop culture movie and a classic piece of Spanish literature in the sentence. It leaves things up in the air.
Oh, and she catches the one in the last sentence too.
It scares me to think that just like in economics, the marginal cost of little piece of brilliant self-awareness will continue to increase exponentially as my life progresses. A scary thought - one that makes me wish I hadn't wasted so much time understanding that the reflection on the water wasn't me drowning or that coffee doesn't magically taste better when you get older - you simply need it and get used to it.
This weekend knowledge was given to me. "We [women] don't understand men". She meant the actions of men.
At least we're all even.
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