fox_lady

fox_lady @ 2005-11-11T14:33:00

2005-11-11T19:47:43Z

On my way to lunch today I saw a middle-aged gentleman on a bicylce riding along the shoulder of the highway. He had a lot of bags slung over the back of his back, and leashed to the handlebars were at least two, maybe three medium-sized dogs trotting along happily. They had saddle bags slung over their backs, like little pack mules.

I had to share this story - it seemed such a bizarre sight to see along a rural Pennsylvania highway - so when my mom called me at work to chat I told her about it. My mother, being a big animal-lover, said "I hope they have somewhere to go at night, it's getting cold." To which I replied, "Of course they do mom... that's what the dogs were carrying: PUP TENTS!"

HAHA "PUP TENTS!" Get it? 'Cause they're dogs and they were carrying stuff and... god I die a little inside every time I repeat that remark :P My apologies to everyone who was just subjected to that bit of what I call my sense of humor.

I have disco music stuck in my head. "Love Machine" to be exact. Why music gets stuck in people's heads is one of the great unknowns of the human mind. What concerns me is the fact that I don't even really *know* how "Love Machine" goes... so it's more of like a vague melody and a line or two of lyrics cycling over and over again in my brain. It probably will cause a brain tumor.

I'm in a good mood :D

fox_lady @ 2005-11-09T10:39:00

2005-11-09T16:05:50Z

Great. Corzine won the NJ governer race. Damn good thing I invested in a high-efficency car (55 mpg average FOOLS - haha pwned) because the taxes on gas are probably going to go through the roof.

I spent last night at my boyfriend's place - he rents a house smack-dab in the middle of town. Usually on weekends or when school's out you can hear teenagers making a ruckus outside, but it's been quiet lately - heck, even Halloween was rather quiet, it being a school night and all. Last night though, phew! The 30 to 40-somethings were out giggling madly, staggering drunkenly and howling at the moon until far past midnight (when I finally heard someone outside the open window say "well, I guess we kept the baby-sitter waiting long enough - let's go home and screw on the dishwasher"). Election Night: an even bigger party than Halloween?!

New York Times totally dissed PA... on the front page yesterday they listed open/close times for polls in Jersey, New York, and Conn. - but not Pennsy. Ouch. Poor Pennsylvania, sometimes too far West of the East and East of the West to fit in anywhere. I love you anyway PA; I'd love you more if you'd put up more road signs and marked things better but hey whatever, your cigarettes are cheaper and your whole 'government-enforced seperation of beer and liquor into seperate stores thing' is amusing.

One of my favorite bands is My Morning Jacket. I was bored and was flipping through their website when I saw that they would be playing NYC on New Year's Eve. I was like "tha's kewl" (that's my Cartman from South Park voice by the way), when I saw they were opening for *another* one of my favorite bands, The Black Crowes. At that point I was looking it up on ticketmaster. Tickets were listed under The Black Crowes ("15 years of Cosmic Rock"... I love that line) and there were TWO opening bands named... MMJ and !*ANOTHER*! one of my favorite bands, The North Mississippi All-Stars. Annnd at that moment my head exploded and I spent a lot of money for tix. First time I've ever really had plans for New Year's in advance - cannot wait.

I'm already planning how to get a joint into the Garden with me ;)

'high'ly contemplative

2005-11-08T03:46:35Z

I over-analyse too much. I know this. I know it's not neccesarily a bad thing - would gravity ever have been understood if Newton had not been like "damn yo... why doesn't anything ever fall 'up'?" Eventually through enough analysis of this thing some call the human condition a universal 'truth' could potentially be found.

But sometimes...

I have to come to grips with the fact that sometimes, it just kicks ass. There's no rationale, there's no logic, there's no greater truth. It just kicks ass. Why did the Mayans pull the hearts out of human sacrifices and then kick the body down the temple stairs? Was there some greater religious signifigance, or was it just rock'n'roll? Why did the Celts (or whoever it was) build Stonehenge? Was it *really* for some high spiritual purpose, or did someone just decide one day, that hey dude, it would be totally killer to like, make all the serfs with nothing to do in the winter pull these giant rocks for miles and just put them up in this field? Machu Picchu? If I was Empress I'd make my subjects do something like that, just because man that'd totally rock! If I was an Empress I'd have somebody strap me into copper and silver leather armor every morning and ride out with pennants flying just because... it would be great.

I'm addicted to thinking, addicted to finding out the 'secrets' and the 'truths'. But existence is so pointless, such a fun game if played right, maybe the real truth is that there is none.

Maybe I'm a lightweight and two beers + ten mg. of valium on a Monday night makes me want to pillage subway token machines and hoard Sacagewea dollars in wooden trunks because shiny things are fun to look at. Maybe I'm desperate for those times when there were wise men/women in our societies who told us - looking back on long lives and oral traditions of evene longer lives - that this is a magical world full of delight, not the cynical jaded crystalline thing we stare at under microscopes. Maybe I am a shaman overcome by this awesome kick-ass place but I'm too young and there's no place for shamans in our world today. Maybe I'm too anxious too grow old and see all the things I'm going to see; the ends of worlds, the beginnings of new ones. Maybe I'm making no sense.

But that's ok... cause it kicks ass. And when I am old I'm going to tell all the people in the old folks' home about how much ass I kicked and how much it rocked when gas was only $2.50 a gallon and you could smoke cigarettes outside restaurants in the freezing cold and how we weathered the wrath of nature with our crude tools fashioned from steel and plastic.

I'm going to bed, but only so I can get up tomorrow and slay some paperwork with my bare hands and vow to never post without editing my words again :)

peace with the old man

2005-11-04T02:27:47Z

I've been busy lately... both in and outside of my own head.

I've finished the stages of grief lately... interesting: I had a nervous breakdown some years ago and during the forced therapy at the hospital they put the emotion of grief into five easy pieces - I thought it was all crap but I found the list while going through some old papers of mine and god-damn if I hadn't gone through it like a pre-flight checklist: Denial, check; Anger, roger that; Bargaining, affirmative; Depression, copy that; Acceptance... it's a go.

I've been wanting to ask my father if he's dying lately... and I fear that I'm failing the ideals he tried to raise me with by being too fettered by social taboos to talk to him about it. My parents had me when they older - damned sex fiends couldn't slow down - but despite being from a generation usually seen as repressed and reserved they were pure idealists bent on raising their children as far outside of society as possible. Taboos - whether sexual, racial or spiritual, were obstacles to personal growth and the evolution of the mind - I was to ask anything so I could learn everything. My father imparted many lessons, about love and life and loyalty, and now he may be dying and am I about to miss learning the most important lesson of Life: What it is to be at the end of It? I'm learning some things by watching him - how he still keeps dignity as his body fails, how solemnly and gracefully he still loves the people around him, how quietly he takes the pain. But if only I could ask him; Pop, do you think you're dying? What do you see? How do you feel? What thoughts come to you? We could discuss what is happening and unravel the mysteries. If I could only ask. Maybe I'm too scared that he's going to answer 'yes', but I need to learn, and he needs to teach.

I've been questioning my own abilities lately... I was told as a child that I could do anything, and what I couldn't do I could learn - and after years of self-hatred because I wasn't the frail graceful maternal menstruating-on-the-full-moon female society tells me I should be but instead 'the weird one' who talked about 'weird stuff' - I believe that. Without vanity and without arrogance, I believe I can do anything... well, I can't sing and I couldn't carry a tune in a wheelbarrow, but I can do whatever the hell I want and I will be fine. But with that belief came two curious things: Relief, because I felt free, and an overwhelming sense of "Well, fuck my ass now what? If I can do anything, *what the high-holy-flying-fuck-bears-on-ice* do I *do*?"

But mostly I've been thinking lately... I have lived long enough to learn a lot of things, but I'm still too bloody young to be wrestling with a future that's just going to happen no matter what I do.

fox_lady @ 2005-10-19T19:54:00

2005-10-20T00:02:16Z

god I'm tired. Is it possible to think so much that you actually get physically tired from it?

All day at the PA office I had to think about the design I've been focusing on, where I was going to put things and how I was going to show them legibly on the specs; then on the way back to my office my mind was rushing - gotta call some clients and do the billing and update the accounts and install some software and who am I what do I want out of life am I on the right track where will this track take me - on and on tumbling through me like an avalanche. Most of this evening was taken up by random thoughts: debating my place in existence, do I believe in god, how do I feel about the questions of love and mortality being brought up in my life, what I can do to help my aging father.

Now it's 8 o'clock and my mind feels empty and sore. I feel unsettled and listless because I had no answers for myself, and there is something in the air that smells like change, and I hate change.

bored at work thinkin' 'bout my lil pony

2005-10-12T18:58:38Z

So I have a new client, who instead of just sending me work likes to have me actually show up at his office every day for a few hours to consult (proprietary legal information and all that jazz I suppose.)

I'm a commuter now, yay! One more white-knuckled New Jersey native completely and utterly confused and horrified by Pennsylvania's roads. The random placement of speed limits, the state highways that have no discernable logic in their winding path, crossroads that are unmarked, and that plague of Eastern PA: Street Road. C'mon people! Did you seriously run so dry on ideas for road names that you had to name every other road 'Street'?!

The weather's been a bit of an issue too. PA doesn't believe in drainage I guess, and as the Delaware rises with all this rain so the main roads I take become flooded.

But it's all worth it. Not just because of the client or the work, but because of... *sigh* Moth-y.

Let me explain: Along one of the major highways that go from my neck of Jersey to my client's office in PA is a horse farm, a giant stone compound with a big plaque that says the name of the farm is 'The Farm' (heh, it should be on Street Road) and that it was founded in 1700. On either side of it stretches acres and acres of horse pastures. I don't know too too much about horses, except that falling from one cracked two of my vertebrae and there are a buttload of them in this area. On this farm it looks like they have a good stable full of regular, kinda brown horses... and then they have all these little, teeny-tiny miniature horses! They are ridiculously miniature at that: Every once in a while I'll see a big St. Bernard in the field with them and the dog is almost bigger than they are!

The little horses hang out by the fence close to the road, and one of them is just so tiny it blows my mind. This horse also looks filthy - it looks like it should be brown and white, but the white always looks like it just finished rolling in the mud. Its shaggy mane and tail is always disheveled and it's thick fur looks uneven and patchy. I started calling it 'that moth-eaten looking pony' and from there it evolved into me calling it Moth-y.

Oh Moth-y! Hangin' out by the fence, running around the pasture on stubby little legs, mane getting even more tangled in the breeze, playing with a stick in the mud! Being so adorably CUTE that my usually calm-in-control-professional self has to burst into girlish squeals upon spotting it's dirty little face! I specifically wade through the traffic of the main roads, even though I'm familiar enough with the area to know some time-saving back roads, just because I need to see this little pony and for ten seconds as I swoosh by at 40 mph gush over it, yelling 'Hi Moth-y!' out the window like a total moron.

But it is so utterly, overwhelmingly, staggeringly, maddeningly, head-explodingly cute!!!!!!!

sigh

2005-10-08T01:43:09Z

it's 9:15pm as I start this, and I'm STILL at work.

For those who know me, this is not uncommon, especially since my office is about fifty feet from where I live and I run my own business - which means I'm often right back at work after dinner to file papers, update accounting info, writing tasks for the week, combing through a stack of files seeing what needs to be done and by what time.

I love those ads on late-night tv extolling the joys of self-employment. Set your own hours! work in your pajamas! Blech. If they showed the reality of a start-up company no one would do it. If I had known beforehand about the 16 hour workdays, the struggles to get payments on invoices, the aggravation of dealing with clients who want you to change things over and over and over again...

there have been unexpected perks though. I take a twisted sense of pleasure rolling in through the door of my office high as a kite and smelling like liquor, knowing full well that no one's gonna say anything about it. I can smoke cigarettes right at my desk. I can open the doors and windows and let the sound of a late night October rainstorm and the sad, defeated songs of the crickets fill the rooms (as I am now.) I can minimize my work screen and instead play solitaire or write or stare out the window without fear of a boss huffing by and asking what do I think I'm doing? And I *love* having anal sex on the printer table and not worrying about who's going to walk in :)

I've spent many many hours wondering about what I want to 'do' with my life - save for the exceptional few, who hasn't? I still don't know what I want to do, but in the last few months it suddenly came to me that I am extraordinarily happy with what I'm doing now and where I am. I like drafting work - for some reason a patent of a new window lock or a engineer's blueprint of a casino pool fills me with a sense of romance and wonder that makes me feel like skipping and twirling and singing. The feelings I get when contemplating a traffic flow arrow on a design layout of a hotel lobby or a ten page write-up regarding the dilineation of element 12 on a patent for a missle decontamination procedure are almost orgasmic. heck, my ideal sexual night usually consists of having a discussion on government regulations with my boyfriend as he ties me up for a night of spankings.

does this mean I'm a total pervert, a complete dweeb, or just plain weird?

what to do in an emergency?

2005-10-07T19:05:01Z

Was rummaging through my desk drawer at work and found a can pipe from a while back when I was alone in my office late with a dime bag and no papers or blunts. There's no way around it - smoking from a can quite simply SUX, especially when I start to get high and begin to imagine I can feel metal particles lodging themselves in my lungs - YUCK! I feel gross just remembering it!!!!!!!!!

I spend a lot of late nights at my work, and when I'm finally alone and not worried about the phone ringing (I'm far too paranoid a stoner to try and operate a telephone while high - those damn things get complicated!) I occasionally like to enjoy a quick couple of hits. My question to the community at large is this: What does one do when one has pot but no way of smoking it? Can you use printer paper as make-shift rolling papers? I used to know someone who could make a bong in like five minutes using tape, a pen and a plastic soda bottle; anyone have any in-a-flash emergency stoner tricks like that?

Well...

2005-10-06T21:47:48Z

Here we go. Curiousity over the popularity of 'blogs' has finally gotten the better of me, and so I embark on one myself. Now, whether I continue to keep one or abandon it as an endeavor not for me we shall see...

- B