This ethnography will focus on the positive and negative side effects of marijuana use. Specifically the medicinal uses, and the societal drawbacks. Is pot a gateway drug? Is it a miracle herb? Will it ever be legal? The answers to these questions and more will be found in my ethnography.

Here is a collection of my work in progress

Glossary of Terms

Cash: To empty a bowl the ashes from a smoked bowl of weed.

Script: 215 card, license signed by a doctor that proves that you may smoke medical marijuana.

Papers: Small papers used for rolling cigarettes or joints

Bong: A tool for smoking cannabis. Water is used in this tool as a filtration device for the smoke.

Bud: The bud of a flower, in this case, the flower of a cannabis plant

Chronic: A positive term used to signify the quality of the cannabis, also used as a slang term for marijuana.

Dank: Synonym of chronic, but this can also apply to food.

Green: The first hit of a fresh bowl of cannabis, when the marijuana is still green.

Stash, weed, pot, dope: All of these are pseudonyms for cannabis.

Bowl: Part of a pipe or bong, this is where the weed goes.

Joint: A marijuana cigarette

Questionnaire: Feel free to post any responses if you wish

When was the first time you used cannabis? Why did you use it that time? What was that experience like? How long ago was it?

Do you still use cannabis? Why? How often?

What are some positive and negative experiences you have had regarding marijuana? How has it benefited you? Has it been detrimental to you?

Would you recommend weed for others? Do you think it should be legalized? If so what would be a good age limit, if any? What moral codes have you established around pot?

What pseudonym would you like to use?

I am sitting in the front seat of a car I’ve never been in before. Only one other person is in the car, a friend from one of my classes. It was during class, a few minutes before, when I found out that he also smokes weed and has a script. I’m wondering if I’ll make it back to class on time when I’m handed an almond shaped pipe.
“Here, dude, hit it. It’s lit.” He manages to hack out these words in between coughing fits.
The pipe continues to smoke as I bring it to my lips, it smells like a skunk in front of my face, and blueberries. This smell is not altogether unpleasant. I light the bowl afire, and inhale deeply. My eyes are in the back of my head, my brain is hanging upside down. I hand the pipe back to my friend.
It’s raining outside, freezing, flat sheets of rain, it almost seems like it’s about to snow. The heater is not on, it’s warm in the car anyway. I start thinking about the origins of the word hot-boxing. I wonder if I could survive being trapped in a car during a snow storm, if I had enough weed.
“Yeah, this is a blueberry strain we’re smoking right now.” I am educated by my friend on the genetics of his stash.
I think it’s absolutely delicious. I pack the scorched leaves down into the bowl, making them denser, they burn more easily this way, now more tetrahydrocannabinol will bind with my brain cells. It works, I’m no longer here. The world slows down, my thoughts are heavy, and unwieldy. I am more easily amused. The car feels so warm.
I continue the conversation with my friend, now I feel far more interested in what he is saying. We don’t say anything of much consequence, but everything that is said seems hilarious to me. We talk about weed, and girls, and how much it sucks to live here, and what we would be doing if we were not here.
More time has passed than I thought, I am late for class. I have to leave, time for school. I run across the parking lot. It is so cold out here.