I was recently asked by a curious reader about how and why I became a writer. A simple question, really. But one that requires a tangled web of backstory, serendipity, and pure chaos to answer properly. So buckle up, dear reader. This is my personal Vostok 1, my flight of Gagarin, my own epic journey into the unknown.
It all kicked off in April of 2012, when I got a call that would catapult me into this wild literary orbit. One of the owners of a little publication called Releaf Magazine had reached out about the recent federal raid on Oaksterdam University in Oakland, California – the first premier cannabis college in the United States. They needed a piece for the May issue, ASAP.
Before we dive headfirst into that madness, let’s rewind the clock two years to 2010. My brother-in-law and I were gearing up for a most excellent adventure to the heart of weed paradise – San Francisco, California. We were set to attend classes at Oaksterdam University, across the bay in Oakland. This wasn’t just any trip; it was a pilgrimage to the Mecca of marijuana, a chance to rub elbows with the rock stars of the cannabis industry.
We boarded a red-eye out of NYC, and I promptly passed out, treating my fellow passengers to a Symphony of Destruction with my snoring. After we landed, bleary-eyed and groggy, we found ourselves in what could only be described as Weedtopia. The campus of Oaksterdam sprawled across several blocks in downtown Oakland, complete with a school, coffee shops, a gift shop, a student center, and a dispensary – all within a stone’s throw of each other.
For two East Coasters from a place where weed was still super-duper illegal, it was like landing on Mars. Hell, it was more surreal than that – it was like a parallel universe where weed had never been banned. We wandered through this cannabis wonderland in a daze, taking it all in. It was identical to the famed Dutch model, right down to the Bulldog coffee shop where you could sip your caffeinated beverage and toke up to your heart’s content.
California had been riding the medical marijuana wave since ’96, but back in Connecticut, things were tighter than an air seal on the Space Shuttle until 2012.
Seeing advertisements for medical cards on the BART system was a shock to our puritanical senses. We had found Weedtopia, and it was glorious.
If they could do it in Cali, why couldn’t we do it back home? I dove headfirst into the local cannabis community and joined NORML. Just as the gears started turning, Oaksterdam got raided by the DEA.
That’s when Releaf Magazine called, knowing my heart bled Oaksterdam green. They wanted me to write about the raid. Writing wasn’t something I had seriously considered since I was a kid, but they were messing with my utopia. I had something to say, and it needed to be said. That was my blast-off into the chaos of writing, a rocket ride I never anticipated.
I cranked out the article, fueled by a mixture of outrage and inspiration. It was only a small section at the end of a larger piece, butchered by the editor to hell and back. But hey, the Wright Brothers only flew for 59 seconds and 852 feet. It was a start. That little piece was my first flight into space, my Moon Landing, my Freddie Mercury at Live Aid moment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.
And so, what started as a one-off gig snowballed into more than a decade of writing. One article led to another, and then another, until I found myself neck-deep in the madness of words and ideas, chasing the next big story. This blog, this journey, all of it, traces back to that frantic call in 2012. The DEA raid on Oaksterdam wasn’t just a news event; it was the ignition sequence that launched my writing career.
So there you have it my people. That’s how and why I became a writer. It’s a tale of unexpected twists, a bit of psycho-babble, and a whole lot of serendipity. Writing wasn’t where I thought I wanted to be, but it turned out to be exactly where I needed to be.
Here is the original copy:
Keep it weird,
I hope you enjoyed my tale.
