I spent my adolescence finding weird acting opportunities. I was in ... I don’t even know what you would call this. I was in a musical review at the mall where we would sing and get a $25 gift certificate as payment. I was constantly doing that kind of stuff. By the time I was in high school, I was doing all the plays and the musicals.
Musical theater performers are fucking Olympians. I just didn’t have the strength or stamina vocally and I found it extremely stressful. I can sing one night really well, and then I have to let my voice rest for two weeks before I can sing really well again. By the time I went to college, I was like, This is too much. And also, I wanted to drink and smoke and have a life. You can’t do any of those things, especially if you have any weakness in your voice. I decided my life would just be easier if I kept singing on the side but didn’t make it a part of my career.
My parents are very liberal, but they were also strict. It was not a household that was like, “Well, you’re safer drinking here.” My parents were more like, “You’re not safe doing any of those things, and so you’re not doing it.”
So I did not grow up with cannabis. I smoked weed for the first time in high school, but only a handful of times. I learned very quickly that weed and alcohol don’t mix for me. That’s a spinning situation.
I started to get more into it in college. That’s also when I realized that my mom loves weed, too. This has a lot to do with the screenplay that I’m writing—but she’s very cool, and very funny, so everyone always loved her, including me. She was a friend, except that she was very strict, and in that sense she wasn’t cool at all. She was the first person calling people’s parents when parties were happening. So there was always this very weird kind of dance that she and I were doing where I was like, “Are you my friend or are you my mom?”
But as soon I got to college, she dropped the act instantaneously and was like, “Okay, I don’t have to hide anything from you anymore. I love weed! We can smoke weed together.”
My parents were getting divorced between my sophomore and junior year of college, so I really didn’t want to go home. Instead, I found this summer program in Antigua, Guatemala. The idea was to get certified to teach English as a foreign language, live in a home-stay for next to nothing, and teach English at a local public school for girls in exchange for getting private Spanish lessons.
When my mom came to visit, I took her to this volcanic lake that has two or three volcanoes in the middle of it. It was super Jurassic and all very ex-pat-y. We stayed at a bare bones bed and breakfast run by this gorgeous woman who I think was European, but who was definitely from somewhere.
I brought some weed with me, and now that I think about it, it was one of the first times that my mom and I had ever smoked weed together. I rolled a joint and we sat down on the dock, and we’re looking at this epic, volcanic lake. My mom is in the middle of a divorce after 23 years of being married. I’m in college. To me, the moment just feels so revelatory and meaningful: we’re in Guatemala, in the middle of nowhere, smoking this joint together, and we’re talking. There’s this long pause and it all feels so meaningful. Just like ... life.