Still Lit, Still Here” — Thoughts From a 51-Year-Old Stoner

Let me tell you something, man. Turning 51 hits different when you’re high.

Now, I know what some folks think. “You still smoke weed at your age?” And to that I say: Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I? I’ve got bad knees, a noisy brain, and a deep, philosophical need to understand why Tupperware lids disappear. Weed helps with all of that.

Look, I’m not trying to be some old burnout stereotype. I’ve got a job (sort of), a dog (his name is Bob and he judges me less than people do), and a halfway decent memory as long as you don’t ask me where I put my keys. But weed? Weed is like the one friend that never ghosted me after 1998.

💨 High, But Not Low

When I was younger, getting high was about escaping. Now? It’s about appreciating. I get lit and suddenly my backyard becomes a nature documentary. My dog is the host. A ladybug walking across the patio is a 4-episode arc.

I don’t need the club or the scene. I got a camping chair, a Bluetooth speaker playing old Tribe Called Quest, and a bag of discount pretzels that slap way harder than they should. That’s enlightenment, my dude.

🧠 Deep Thoughts From the Couch

You hit a certain age and you realize — most of the stuff that used to stress you out… just isn’t worth it. Deadlines? Whatever. The news? Overwhelming. Your ex from 2003 posting cryptic quotes? Who cares?

Weed didn’t give me peace, but it definitely opened the door and pointed like, “Yo… it’s in there.” Sometimes I walk through. Sometimes I eat pizza on the porch instead. Either way, I’m vibin’.

🧓 The Old Stoner Stigma

People act like smoking past 30 means you’re failing at adulthood. But man… I pay my bills (mostly), I recycle (sometimes), and I’m emotionally available to people who also bring snacks. What more do you want?

There’s this idea that stoners are all just lazy. Nah, we just move slower because we’re considering things. Like, should you really reply to that email with “Per my last message”… or should you just go touch grass?

🚀 Final Puff of Wisdom

So yeah, I’m 51. I still get high. My back hurts sometimes, and my eyes need readers when I’m rolling a joint. But I’m still curious. I’m still laughing. I’m still growing.

And honestly? I’d rather be a chilled-out 51-year-old with a joint and a garden gnome named Carl than a stressed-out 30-year-old in a podcast war.

Stay mellow. Be kind. Pass the lighter. ✌️