Something from English Class


I am the son of airmen, linemen, oilmen,
Florists, farmers, scientists, mathematicians,
Musicians, businessmen, criminals,
G.I. Joe and Rosie the Riveter.
Suffragettes and slave drivers.

I’ve seen my father’s destiny,
A hard-working, dim-witted,
Loyal, violent,
Responsible, hard-drinking man.
Far ahead of the game,
In spite of how badly another man,
Might have done.
Successful in spite of everything.

I’ve heard my mother’s cries,
Of insanity.
Shaped by unknown scars or abuses,
Or crushed dreams.
Seen her tears of disappointment,
At the sensationalize failure,
Her mind twisted me into.

Though I can never forgive her,
Emotional, psychological, physical abuse,
I realize that deep in her mind,
A pure pool of love and concern,
Poisoned when it bubbled out of the spring.

The youngest,
I was born to two people,
Weary of parenthood.
From my mother,
I inherited the gift of madness.
I know I must focus it into creativity.
From my father,
The gift of a deep inner rage,
Opressed by ideals of pacifism.

All I can do is work with the garled marble slab I was given.
I must slowly chisel away all that is not Cory.

Randi Rhodes Spammed ME? Sweeeeeet!


On my MySpace profile Randi Rhodes from Air America Radio thanked me for adding her as a friend and gave me a link to her podcast in my comments box. What a lovely face to grace my profile.

I got spammed by the totally great Randi Rhodes. (or her publicist, or someone who runs the page and is not Randi)

I’m so jazzed!

It’s probably an automatic thing:
I request her to be added, she gets the request and then when I get added it automatically comments that form-letter thing to my profile, but it’s still cool when your fan mail is answered.

Damn, that Martina Throws a Good Shindig.


I enjoyed it completely sober, didn’t make too much of an ass of myself* and met a lot of cool people.

Lindsay needs to learn the following things:
1. When you trip over a cement block and someone offers you a hand, there is no shame in taking it.
2. Hugs are great.
3. Ichigo needs a shave.

*(I did look pretty funny dancing.)

Johari? Nohari? WTF?


So, Alia had me fill out this personality thingy… might as well have people do it for me.

First pick 5 or 6 words from this page that discribe me and see what I said and others said.

Then pick 5 or 6 words from this page that discribe me and see what I said and others said.

Then be sad about the five minutes that you’ll never have back.

No, Cory!


She’s mean, she’s high maintainence, she hates you and she’s your girlfriend’s sister! These thoughts are not good!

Boring Personal Survey

Surveys Are Boring, Especially About Me
Name: Cory Dorrough
Birthday: 13 JUN 1981
Birthplace: Santa Clara, CA
Santa Rosa, CA
Height: 6’3″
Handed or Left Handed:
Left, forced Right
Shoes You Wore Today:
Black deck shoes
Never breaking the streak of failure
Perfect Pizza:
Something with chicken and garlic
You Would Like To Achieve This Year: MUST MAKE MONEY!
Thoughts First Waking Up: Oh, shit… I have to be somewhere.
Best Physical Feature:
I dunno… Jawline?
When I damn well feel tired.
Most Missed Memory:
Being emotionally abused by my family… oh,
or Coke:
Ginger Ale
MacDonalds or Burger King: Yuck
Ice Tea or Nestea:
Store Brand
Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla
Cappuccino or Coffee: They both serve their purpose. One’s
Do you
What the fuck kind of shit question is
Do you
Not so you can hear me.
Do you
Shower Daily:
No… no I don’t.
Do you
want to go to College:
Yes… god, yes.
Do you
want to get Married:
I suppose so.
Do you
belive in yourself:
Though I’ve given myself little reason to…
Do you
think you are Attractive:
Well, if you dig insecure, neurotic technology
Are you
a Health Freak:
Haha… no.
Do you
get along with your Parents:
Not really. They’ve learned not to bring up what a fuck-up I
used to be, and I’ve learned not to walk out and drive home when they do
Do you
like Thunderstorms:
Yeah, but they don’t come around much where I
Do you
play an Instrument:
Several… but not well, and not recently.
In the
past month have you Drank Alcohol:
Drank Alcohol… in capitals. How judgemental of them.
In the
past month have you Smoked:
In the
past month have you gone to a Mall:
Maybe one.
In the
past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:
In the
past month have you been Dumped:
In the
past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:
It’s freakin’ February.
In the
past month have you Stolen Anything:
been Drunk:
See last alcohol related question.
been called a Tease:
been Beaten up:
How do
you want to Die:
I don’t.
What do
you want to be when you Grow Up:
A not failure
In a
Favourite Eye Color: Something weird
Favourite Hair Color: Red
or Long Hair:
Don’t care
Height: Don’t care
Weight: Don’t care
Clothing Style:
Glittery t-shirts that say “Slut” and “Porn
of CDs I own:
Like 6. I’m an Mp3 guy myself.
of Piercings:
3 that grew shut
of Tattoos:
of things in my Past I Regret:
Not working harder starting in the 7th grade. Why do they
put such important life decisions in the hands of children. Children don’t
know anything.

Take It Yourself

Damn… school is hard again.


Homework to learn in math before monday. Cake. Homework to learn in Physics before Wednesday. Cake.

A paper to make up in English about a play. Not cake… writing takes a long time. The play wasn’t bad though. HOT Actress. Also, another paper that was given exactly 5 days to be written on the subject of “A book that inspired you somehow.”

One thing is clear… he doesn’t want that paper written well.

Hard Class + New Material = 2(The Work)


Why do they put such important decisions in the hands of high school students. I want to go back to high school so I can work harder and get into a better school, on a scholarship.

I am taking a physics class, where I have to learn what he’s teaching while I’m teaching myself trig.

Meanwhile, I’m taking a math class where I have to teach myself how to divide by a fraction or how to simplify a radical or remember the quadratic formula, while I learn what he’s teaching.

And I’m taking a C++ class while I try to learn about the compiling program, without instruction, just by playing with it.

Unless this semester gets easier, I’m not going to be able to have a job.

Hard School – Job = 1/2(Dead Cory)

On a lighter note.