Monthly Archives: November 2009

After Midnight

It’s after midnight. Dozier is still awake. He has already gone through all of the usual excuses for not being able to sleep including the need to urinate, the need for water, telling me his hair hurts…

Dozier: “I know why ice floats. It has a low density due to hydrogen bon—”

Me: “Dozier! Please leave me alone and go to bed.”

Dozier (as he steps back and forth over the threshold of my bedroom): “I’m in. I’m out. I’m in. I’m out.”

Me: “Dozier, I really don’t want to beat the living crap out of you, but I will.”

On that note, he went to bed. Mommy of the year, right here.


Dozier: “Hey, is this Slow Ride?”

Me: “Yep.”

Dozier: “Who sings this?”

Me: “Foghat.”

Dozier: “Foghat?”

Me: “Yep, Foghat.”

Dozier: “Foghat? Foghat. Like fog – a mist in the air, and hat – like goes on your head?”

Me: “Yep, Foghat.”

Dozier: “Huh.” (Short pause) “Apparently all the good names were taken.”

Way Less Than 50,000 Words

Syd challenged me to this thing where you’re supposed to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I said that I would do it, and I even thought it would be sort of fun. People are always telling me I should write a novel. I just have never figured out a topic that seemed novel worthy. Now, it is time to face the facts and give the reason that I will not be writing 50,000 words this November. It isn’t because I am lazy or that I don’t have the time. It isn’t even that I don’t want to do it, because honestly, I do. The fact is that the only topic of which I am compelled to write is the story of me. I’m not ashamed, and I would enjoy sharing my story with the world, but before I can do that, I must realize the story in its entirety, and there are all of these sub-plots; things and events and thoughts that I am not ready to face. I am not too complex. I am pretty simple. I am corrupt and greedy and desperate. I find myself clawing at any scrap of hope that I can find like a crazed prisoner clawing at their cell blocks, trying desperately to escape but never finding progress; only bloody fingers. I’m drowning in a sea of uncertainty, flailing about grasping at anything I can find that will allow me to stay afloat, yet sinking into mediocrity as I choke on my own desire. I acknowledge my flaws and accept my self-destruction, but I still cling to the knowledge that I deserve more and blindly believe I will one day get what I deserve. I don’t know what I want. I can’t comprehend my insecurities. I intellectually know my worth. I can see my reflection in the mirror and I know what it is that others see, but all I see is the quiet desperation behind frightened pools of blue. I’ve started writing, Syd, I promise I have, but just as the story begins to get good, just as my keystrokes lead me deeper into my past and my thoughts and my memories; I find myself in uncharted waters. I find myself in cloudy, gray areas where I must find an explanation for my mental state or finally concede that I have consciously chosen the path I have traveled because of my heart’s true wishes. Perhaps I have sabotaged myself from the beginning. Maybe we all get a bad break every now and again. I don’t know what it is. I don’t feel like I can move forward and find the unknown happiness that I still psychotically think is out there until I figure out why I am where I am now. But I just don’t have the balls to do that right now. I don’t know if it is because I am scared to discover what events or conversations triggered my low opinion of myself, or if it is that I am scared I will discover that my seemingly warped, harsh opinion of me is merited. I know I need to get there. I am getting closer than I ever have before. I have had epiphanies and holy hell moments more often recently than ever before. But I don’t think I am going to get there in 50,000 words, and I doubt I am going to get there this November. For now I am content to hide in my semi-charmed life, occasionally faking a smile but more often than not simply scowling; letting people think what they want and not giving a damn until I am in the privacy of darkness falling into my dreams. Another day, another time, another place, or perhaps never at all; I will allow myself to slip into the steam of my consciousness and either reach the other side, wide eyed and gasping or merely let my limbs fall motionless and allow the current to sweep me away. If it is the first option, perhaps I will write all about it; if it is the latter, perhaps someone else will.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Dozier and I were watching Mr. & Mrs. Smith. We got to the scene where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are trying to kill each other.

Dozier: “You say they’re married?”

Me: “Yep.”

Dozier: “They are married…?”

Me: “Yes, Dozier. They are married.”

Dozier: “You and Dad could’ve saved a lot of time and money by just handling things that way.”

Then it gets to the part where they kiss.

Dozier: “Never mind.”

Your Baby Can Read

Dozier: “Hey, Mom. Have you seen the commercial for videos that teach kids how to read?”

Me: “Yep.”

Dozier: “Yeah, when my kids are griping about having to watch reading videos, I’m going to tell them ‘When I was your age, we didn’t have videos that taught us how to read. We had to learn to read the old fashion way.’”

Me: “That’s a good idea, Doe. Keep it up. You’ll be a martyr in no time.”

Dozier: “Thanks, Mom!”

Conversation and Fried Fish.

Scout: “What if they had porta-parties. That’d be cool. You could have them in a porta-potty. Then if you were having the party and you had to go, you could, cause you know – you’re already there.”

Dozier: “Hey, Scout, do you think the world is going to end in 2012?”

Scout: “Look, I’m just a boy eating fish.”

Dozier: “You want that hush puppy?”

Scout: “Nah, you can have it. What I really want is to be a chick magnet – with super speed and the power of levitation.”

Dozier: “Levitation? Whatever. If you were smart, you’d wish for telekinesis.”

Scout: “Oh, yeah, dude! If I had telekinesis, I could give a guy a wedgie with my brain. But I still want to be a chick magnet.”

Dozier: “Do you really want girls stuck to you like that?”

Scout: “The good looking ones. What should I do with the others?”

Dozier: “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Maybe when the North and South Poles switch their magnetic properties in 2012, all the ugly girls will fall off.”

Today’s Random Conversation with Dozier

Dozier: “Why do you think there aren’t more nuclear power plants?”

Me: “There’s one in Dothan.”

Dozier: “I know. But why do you think there aren’t more of them? You know, some of the ways that humans go about generating power are questionable. Are you familiar with acid rain? Just think about that. Acid will eat through metal. Think about what it will do to a human. And then there is acid the drug. Think about what THAT will do to a human.”

Me: “How do you know about acid the drug?”

Dozier: “I’m a smart kid, Mom. Why do you think you spend all that money on private school?”

Me: “I’m starting to wonder about that myself.”

Dozier: “May I have some more Halloween candy?”

Me: “I think you’ve had enough.”