the wrong side of the bed

sean mccarthy continues to be my best friend. it amazes me how we have been capable of maintaining for so long and under through so many ups and downs. if you want to come anywhere close to sean's standing as the awesomest friend, you can do so by buying me this little fellow.

... that it is boring to post (in a sing-song voice) "i'm sorry that i have not blogged in so long. i've been sooooo busy kissing everyone's arses offffff the blogoshpere, knowing you are all desperately waiting for my next post." that said, sorry i have not blogged in sooo very long (okay, wait, i think i blooooooogggged not so very long ago (constance says,

constance here. i would just like to say the following: Please use block parentheses if you use parentheses within parentheses.

i don't know quite why she is complaining...

Dorotha has gone to pee. My bladder is not asking for any attention. Thus I am left to entertain you. I say... visit my blog here

constance uses weirder html tags than i do. i hope this all works out.

anyway, i blogged titles last week. fucking deal with that, constance. i know you don't like it.

constance and i are drunk.* we are here together. she wants me to write a joint blogpost with her. i don't feel like it right now. i am speaking aloud as i type in a scottish accent. i don't know why. oh, it is because of Shrek. connie is laughing at me. fuck her. like i would ann arbor (please see forthcoming post from constance). anyway, she is laughing at me. i don't care.

* don't worry. i know that there is at least one person out there who cares enough about me to worry that i am on a booze cruise. i am not. constance and i are engaging in a rare indulgence. we got a bit tipsy whilst watching Shrek. this is not all that common. and, in any case, i seem to be quite capable of going for weeks and weeks without drinking. as far as other dangers might go, constance lives about a block (no lie) away.

those are your only two choices. feel free to weigh in.

the classroom in which i teach has a white board and a very bad eraser. when i teach, i like to leave the room as tidy as possible for the next TA, and so i normally find myself erasing the board and then wiping it down with white board cleaner. if i don't do both steps, things just smudge around and the board is covered with ghost images. today i left something up. it was there from a previous class. the instructer had written an agenda. it said:

Today
1. Results
2. Misery
3. Into the future

my blog, which is also erasable, has the same agenda. follow along, we are on three.

so, i'm making my next two monsters for henry and kelly. henry sent me a list of things that he thought made something monstrous. what do you think?

this is henry's email response to me in which i solicit his taste in monsters:


it is clear from your last email to me that you define "monstrous" as:

-something possessing glowing eyes and/or cool shades.

And this reveals your narrow mind. Yes, a monster can be monstrous from
its glowing eyes (usually red) and its cool shades. but it can also be
monstrous from the following:

scaly skin
bulbous nose(s)
pointy ears
hair all over the body
claws/talons/fangs
tail, preferably with a spike on the end
access to hard drugs
tentacles or flippers
abnormal height or width
a face on its belly
three extra fingers on its right hand
any kind of tattoo (even temporary)
wings

i've decided to start sewing my own plush monsters. last night, doing something ridiculously stupid with a sewing needle, i managed to chip part of a tooth (i think). i guess i need to call the dentist.

i don't like this.

i think one of the medications i have been on for a while is weakening my teeth. i'm thinking of going off my meds.

my monsters are going to be soooo cute.

i have been told many times in reccent years that i am just too much to deal with emotionally. i won't go into details, but you can imagine that things like this get said at the ends of relationships (of any sort) rather than at the beginnings. today, i am trying, i swear i am, to keep my shit together. i am trying. i am trying.

i cried a lot when i was in elementary school. my mother once told a kindergarten aged dorotha that, if i didn't stop crying, she was going to send me to a psychiatrist. i guess i stopped crying at that particular moment, but i'm sure i started up again the next day or so. i had difficulties fitting in. i learned how to keep that to myself, though. i became withdrawn. by high school, i had a handful of emotions that i would display: sullen depression (most of the time), wild, manic enthusiasm (rarely), and explosive anger (only my family saw this). still, for the most part, my shit was under control. i would like that again. i don't mind the occassional outburst if i can just get that low level, comfortable depression again. i'm sure those around me would prefer it. i was a lot quieter back then, too. i know that people think i talk too much. i used to be silent. i really miss that. i imagine you would all welcome the change, too. a quieter, smaller, more easily managed dorotha. i could be shelved with books you want to keep, but won't ever read again. take me off the coffee table. put your stupid monet monograph back. people will be more impressed by that anyway. nothing like blurry waterlillies to sooth and caress a consciousness battered by our topsy-turvy lives. look! a haystack in autumn! in the morning light and then at dusk! i feel... fine.

cut back to dorotha harried, aged five. crying in my bed at night, plagued by insomnia. my mother comes in the room well past my bedtime. i am in my bed, softly calling for her. throughout my childhood, my mother made us sleep with our doors open. if we uttered the word "mom," she would tear herself from sleep and wander, bleary-eyed, down the hall to find us. i made my mother sleep in my bed many nights when i was young. she says i liked to listen to her heartbeat and feel her warm skin. i believe her; it still sounds good.

could i articulate well why i was crying when i was 5, 6, 7, 8? i don't know. i remember my mother saying to me, "dorotha, why do you feel so much in your heart of hearts? why are you so, so sad?" i don't know, mom. just stay in bed with me until i fall asleep.

this post is for my brother and sister-in-law. i love them very much. they live in new orleans right now while jenny is in grad school at tulane. they made it to my parents' house in houston because they are very cautious and evacuated early. they were able to leave because we are upper middle class white folks. chuck is a high school teacher and is very worried about his students. jenny is at tulane studying public health and is very worried about, well, public health problems as a result of the flooding. they haven't heard from all of their friends. chuck is starting to get emails from some of his students.

chuck and jenny don't know where to live. they don't know whether to try to get jobs. they probably should. they are thinking of living in austin and trying to substitute teach. their fat, grey cat, peter, made it out, too. he loves staying at my parents' house because he has lots of birds to stare at through the windows and he likes my parents' new carpet. he is happy and is not going to try to get a job.

chuck and jenny love lucinda williams. so do i. i am posting song lyrics again, even though you hate it. jude, if you ever read my blog, this song is for you, too.


Lake Charles - Lucinda Williams
He had a reason to get back to Lake Charles
He used to talk about it
He'd just go on and on
He always said Louisana
Was where he felt at home
He was born in Nacogdoches
That's in East Texas
Not far from the border
But he liked to tell everybody
He was from Lake Charles
Did an angel whisper in your ear
And hold you close and take away your fear
In those long last moments
We used to drive
Thru Lafayette and Baton Rouge
In a yellow Camino
Listening to Howling Wolf
He liked to stop in Lake Charles
Cause that's the place that he loved
Did you run about as far as you could go
Down the Lousiana highway
Across Lake Ponchatrain
Now your soul is in Lake Charles
No matter what they say
Did an angel whisper in your ear
And hold you close and take away your fear
In those long last moments
He had a reason to get back to Lake Charles
He used to talk about it
He'd just go on and on
He always said Louisana
Was where he felt at home
Did an angel whisper in your ear
And hold you close and take away your fear
In those long last moments
Did an angel whisper in your ear
And hold you close and take away your fear
In those long last moments