Trey Pound tries salvia (click title for link)

So in the interest of full disclosure, I decided to post of the video of me smoking salvia. I first need to mention that salvia (also known as Salvia Divinorum) is ain inhalable (legal) herb sold in many states, including North Carolina. I decided to exercise my right to legal experimentation, and try some. Big mistake. I'm not perma-fried or anything, I just wish I'd left that brightly colored corner of my mind alone. As you watch the video, you can see (according to someone who saw the video) my "soul flying out of [my] body." Trust me, it's just as unpleasant as it sounds. That's one of the reasons I'm posting this video in all its unedited glory. Far be it from to scare anyone straight (ha!) but I think if you're going to try something new, you should at least catch a glimpse of what you're going to be getting into.

And now, a Very Special "Ask Uncle Trey Pound..."

Mom always told me my mouth would get me in trouble one day. I figured I'd wind up getting my ass handed to me in a drunken bar fight with a Marine, but it was Twitter.com that was my undoing. One night killing time at work, I logged onto Twitter.com for some snarky commentary with my fellow tweeters. I posted some (pretty rude) comments about a large client of my employer...which said client later noticed and brought to the attention of my boss--who had no choice but to fire me. Looking back, it's clear that it's a mess entirely of my own making. I screwed up, and I got fired. Having said that, I should also mention: it really sucks. It doesn't just suck because of the sudden unemployment, either. Now, whenever someone asks me why I left my job, I have to give them an answer that involves me looking stupid. No matter how cleverly I may try to phrase it, what most people hear is "I'm a moron with poor judgement who shot his mouth off." And by "most people," I mean "potential new employers." With the stink of this embarrassment following me like a bad fart, I had to go back out into the job market after losing a job I loved. I should mention, this is an indictment of neither Twitter.com nor my former employer. I still use Twitter.com (though I have upped my privacty settings), and I still have great friends at my former place of employment. Leave it to me to ruin my dream job by being too outgoing. A few positives have come out this, however. I've learned how supportive my friends can be--I've never gotten more emails containing links to job openings. More importantly, I've learned the age-old lesson to watch my mouth. We live in an age where everyone has the ability to (essentially) self-publish. And I made the rookie mistake of not considering who might stumble across my rude comments. But I would be Uncle Trey Pound if I didn't use my embarrassment to benefit others. So consider the consequences of your words in general, online specifically. As a woman much wiser than me once said, "Never underestimate the power of the internet." Yours, Uncle Trey Pound

Baby Dreams and New Beginnings

Last night I had an interesting dream: I was at a table, with my arms out-stretched in front of me. I was picking up a new-born baby, though how I knew he was a new-born is beyond me. For that matter, how I knew he was a he is also unkown to me. But somehow I knew the wiggling bundle of life was a boy, and I knew he was mine. In my dream I picked him up--careful to support his head--and held him close to me. I took in the cap of silky black hair that covered his head; I watched with fascination as his chubby cheeks tested their new muscles--lips pursing, brow furrowing. It seemed to me that I could smell him--that pure, innocent smell that only babies have--and my heart surged. Just as I was thinking of his name (something biblical was coming to me), I woke up, but I haven't been able to get him off my mind all day. Even as I watched South Central High's basketball team stomp all over Fike High (Ashley's godson plays for Fike and we came out to support him) I couldn't help but think "Is that what (unnamed son) would grow up to look like?", and "Will he be athletic and graceful like these kids?" Turns out my paternal instincts were a bit misdirected. A couple of people have since informed me that dreams about babies symbolize a change or new beginning in the life of the dreamer. I guess the beginning of a new life in dream form represents the birth of a new form of me. Or at least a change that can lead to a new (and hopefully improved) version of myself. It might be as simple as a job change (some of you already know the story), or maybe it's the book idea that came to me in the middle of the night a week ago. Who knows. All I know is that the baby in that dream filled me with a sense of calm I haven't known in about a month. His calm, delicate twitches gave me a confidence that things will get better, things can begin again. The powdery, innocent smell of that new-born (no matter how imagined) soothed the ragged, jagged edges of my soul. Here's to new beginnings.

To all my new readers...

I just noticed something extraordinary, and I felt so humble that I had to respond. I maintain a fan page for my advice column (Ask Uncle Trey Pound) on facebook. It's a way to stay connected with readers and friends of mine. But just now when I glanced at the list of fans, I noticed something odd... of the 365 "fans" I don't know a good portion of them. That's important since I've been counting on my friends to fill the ranks of my "fans." When I realized that quite a few of the fans are complete strangers to me, I understood that my writing has extended beyond my little circle of friends. Some were friends of friends, but others were seemingly random-ass people that just stumbled upon my fan page. Something in my writing connected with them enough for them to follow the page and keep up with updates. That, frankly, justifies my decision to refer to myself as a "writer." A guy with a lot to say, but no one to say it to, is just a guy with a lot to say. But a guy with a lot to say and someone to speak to--someone to communicate with-- is a writer. I am a writer, and I thank you for making me one.

I'm a Celebrity!

I got a pleasant little surprise this afternoon while working on the front desk. A guest came down looking for some toothpaste, and when I handed it to him, he gave me a funny look. A little while later when he came down again to check out, I was busy on the phone. He heard me say my name and gave me another funny look. As he approached the counter, he goes, "Are you the Trey that writes the column?" I was so startled that I gave him a momentary blank look before responding, "As a matter of fact I am." I guess I've become so accustomed to keeping the two parts of my life separate that I'm always a little surprised when there's some overlap. Now that I think about it, he didn't mention liking/disliking the column so I'm not sure just how flattered I should be. I'm going to choose to see it as a compliment that he recognized me at all. Either way it made my day. I love being a pseudo-semi-sorta-kinda-celebrity in a small town!

Road Trip Diaries, pt. 1: Leaving Pitt County, jerk wings, and British Accents

Friday was one of the funnest, most exciting days I've had in a long time. Ever have one of those days where things just seem a little...better in some indefineable way? People's jokes seem funnier; the sky seems bluer; everything seems to hum with the certainty that life is good. I was so there yesterday.

I met up with Su, Ashlee, Morgan, and Paula at the G-Vegas Magazine office a little past noon. Ashlee and Morgan (two of our G-Vegas Magazine Cuties) were presenting an award at the Just Not Famous Enough Music Awards in Greensboro, and the rest of us were going along to take pics and provide support. The girls showed off their (gorgeous) dresses, while I tried to decide between the ties I wanted to wear with the all-black outfit I was planning on wearing. After grabbing a quick bite to eat at 'Sup Dawgs (freaking love that place) we settled in for the drive to Greensboro. Su, Mo, Ashlee and I were in the G-Vegasmobile, while Paula followed in her car. She was flying out of Raleigh the following day, so she needed to drive on her own. I felt bad letting her drive the whole way alone, but I needed to be in the truck with Su so we could plan our day and help the girls practice the script they'd been given for the presentation of the Alternative Music award.

Speaking of the G-Vegasmobile, I noticed something funny as soon as we left Pitt County. See, around here people are familiar with the magazine. So while I'm used to being stared at when I'm in the truck, it's mostly looks of recognition. People honk, wave, smile at us. The first time I drove the truck alone I felt like a rock star, lol. Once we left Pitt County, however, I could feel the recognition level slipping. People passing us on the highway gave us quizzical looks--at times I could read there lips as they read the G-Vegas logo that's emblazoned down the sides and back of the truck. So the girls and I decided to have some fun. We started smiling and waving when we'd catch people staring at us. Some quickly looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring, while most smiled and waved back. One little girl stuck her arm out the window, waving wildly as her parents' car flew past us just outside of Raleigh. It was awesome.

Between prepping for the awards show, the girls and I spent most of the trip laughing and joking about random things. Since I was riding shotgun, I was designated dj, and I continuously scanned the radio looking for music to sing along to at the top of our lungs. We car-danced, told stories, and just generally had a blast.

In no time at all, we were in Greensboro. We decided to get some food, which turned out to be something of a challenge. We agreed on Chik-fil-a and parked the truck. When we walked down the street [on the way, we passed the F.W. Woolworths where the A&T students held their historic sit-in], and got to the doors of the restaurant, only to find them locked. The lettering on the doors indicated they closed at 3:30. Huh? We then went into an indoor shopping plaza, looking for more places to eat. Subway? Closed. Hibatchi Grill? Locked up tight. We finally got to a caribbean restaurant that was closed as well. A woman standing just outside the doors at the end of the corridor noticed us and came back inside. Seems she was the proprietress of the place, and upon hearing that we'd just gotten into town from Greenville, opened the place and heated up some food for us. It's been forever since I've had jerk chicken, but the wings I ordered were the best I've had in a long time. They were so spicy they made my lips tingle, but I couldn't get enough. We thanked her repeatedly and tipped generously.

I'd joked with the girls along the trip about how I sometimes like to do fake accents, so we agreed that I'd be "British" on the road trip. As we were paying and leaving the restaurant, the owner asked me, "Where you from? London?" Now, for those not in the know, if one is going to have a fake accent, one must also have an appropriate backstory. So when she asked where I was from, I had my story ready: in my most posh, Eastenders accent I responded "I was born in Trinidad but we moved to London when I was two." Paula studied her shoes, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Ashlee biting the corner of her lip. Hell, she damn near chewed through her lip trying not to laugh, lol. As soon as we got back into the corridor with the door safely shut behind us we burst out laughing, drawing some odd looks from a family that seemed to be on a similarly fruitless search for food.

Coming next in Part 2 of the Road Trip Diaries: the Just Not Famous Enough awards ceremony; "Makes me wanna hot dog reeeeaaaal bad"; and Back to G-Vegas with time to drink.