"Who am I, then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I'll come up..."

I could hate you but I don't.

So tonight I went to see The King's Speech and it was absolutely wonderful. I think everyone should see it. Yes, good plan. Everyone go out and see that film. Have fun! While you're all out seeing that I'll be here, possibly going to see another film or maybe just sitting at home. I don't know. I get the sense my day will be good regardless.

I've yet to settle completely on any resolutions for the New Year. For now I think I will resolve to be happier. And to be more honest, not just with those around me but also with myself. Perhaps I'll drink less, I've not yet decided. But this year I resolve to let the cracks show. I will acknowledge that I am broken and that I need others to help me be whole. There is too much to do on my own. I shan't lean too heavily but I shall need to lean so look forward to that 2011. I'll let you know more once the ball drops as it were.

-The Dormouse

Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There

I think we're heading towards the upswing. I realize that's not what it looks like but I really think I'm on my way up. Last night was wonderful. And a disaster. And then I got sick and threw up because I was drunk for the first time since high school. It was an odd experience. I do not wish to repeat it. But I woke up this morning hoping for an upswing. So there it is. I'll make my New Year's resolutions and perhaps I'll stick to them and I'll smile more and laugh more and try to head up instead of down. Let's face it, there's not much further down for me to go.

-The Dormouse

URGENT: Please read.

Alright folks, we're going to talk about something that matters. Something that is so important to me and should be important to you. I realize I have only a very small following but all 10 (okay, I'm definitely overestimating right there) of you who read this blog probably have friends so I want you to pass this along wherever you can. Read this please. Read it and absorb it and if you can let Sady know you're standing with her because she really needs to know that right now. I don't care what you think about Julian Assange, I don't care if you think he raped those two women or if you think he is the God of the internet. This is so not about him. This is about the victims of rape who are afraid to speak out, who are silenced by the media or by her peers or by the culture that says she's a slut or stupid or should have known better. This is about the women who are afraid that it is his word against hers and hers will never be important. This is about the women who are told it wasn't rape because they didn't know their attacker or because they did or because they were attacked and continued to sleep with their attacker or because they refused to break down and be victims or because they had never had sex before or because they had had a lot of sex before. This is about telling the rape survivors out there that their words, their stories, their lives are important.

Whether you know it or not you are probably the friend, brother, sister, mother, father, cousin, aunt, uncle, lover of someone who has survived sexual assault. Think about that. Think about all the women (and yes, men...because men can be raped too) you know and realize that at least one of them (maybe more...probably more) has been sexually assaulted and maybe you knew that already but maybe she's buried it deep inside and she lets it hurt her and maybe it's eating her alive and she doesn't feel like she can say anything about it because someone will tell her it isn't rape, will call her names, will shame her until she can't testify, until she can barely hold herself up. It's not okay to push rape to the side. It's not okay to forget that these women who find the strength to point the finger at their rapist are real women who are trying to do what's best for them, they are trying to survive something awful that has happened to them. These are women who should be protected by the media, whose identities should be kept private because it simply isn't safe for them to be made public, whose stories should not be questioned and ridiculed because that sends the message that no woman has the right to speak out against her rapist (especially if that rapist is a powerful man). It is important to let every survivor know that she matters, she is important, she cannot be pushed aside.

Look, I know I don't have the way with words that Sady Doyle over at Tiger Beatdown does. She says it so much better than I do. But maybe you don't know she exists. Maybe you don't think about how important this is. But it is important. So I'm urging you to help her out in this quest. Support her on her blog, support #MooreandMe on Twitter, and most importantly support her by doing what she's asking of us. Find a rape crisis center on your college campus, in your town, in your state and donate. Donate your time, donate your money, donate in any way you can because that's how you can tell these women that they matter, that they are important, that their stories matter and their safety matters, that their cases matter and getting justice for them matters. Do this so that rape culture isn't a thing, so that women don't kill themselves because they couldn't report their rapes, so that the next time you meet a girl who has survived assault you will know that in some small way you took a step to make her life a little bit better. Just...send out your support. Pass this on. Tell everyone you know. Spread this across the country, across the world. Because these women matter. They just do. You matter.

-The Dormouse

"You might just as well say...that 'I like what I get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"

Things that are not writing my 15 page essay:

Writing an e-mail to the King of the Hipsters

Reading the procrastination blogs off all my sleepless friends

Dancing to Bon Jovi

Doing my laundry

Reading Wandering Stars

Trying to pick a font for my new tattoo

Staring at the ceiling

Texting my best friend

Reorganizing the positions of all my rats on my desk

Eating breakfast for dinner in my building's kitchen

Reading feminist magazines

Writing letters

Making Christmas lists

Writing blog entries about not writing my paper

I think there comes a point in everyone's life where they realize certain life choices were good ones and others were bad. Very bad. So bad in fact that it seem ludicrous that they could have ever been thought of as anything but bad. Taking a class that requires a 15 page final research project at the end of the semester when all your other classes are equally as difficult and demanding is one of those things. I am struggling. I've spent the entire semester researching on this topic and I still feel there is knowledge I do not possess, things I need to know that I never will, and nothing to ramble about for 15 pages. I've written three of them in case you were wondering. I also have 5 pages of notes that I keep trying to integrate but I don't like my notes and I am finding it difficult to concentrate. I wish I were going to sleep at some point tonight. I know I won't be. But really, after this blog entry and this e-mail are finished I'll get back to it. Break over. Brain on. Let's do this. Maybe.

-The Dormouse

Begin at the beginning and go on 'til you come to the end: then stop.

Because I want you to know me I offer you this:

1. I am a little bit messed up

2. Sometimes I fly off the handle. I crack, I break, I flounder.

3. In these moments I will turn to you and ask you to fix me.

4. What I really want is for you to let the destruction play out before your eyes.

5. After the destruction there will always be a moment of reconstruction.

6. In these reconstructions I improve myself. I change things, I throw parts of me away, I find a new definition of who I am.

7. Sometimes these reconstructions don't take. I miss the parts I've discarded, I don't like the things I've added. I revert.

8. These reversions are not always for the worst. Sometimes I did get rid of the wrong bits.

9. I am a work in progress.

10. And you need to accept that progress takes time. We do not change overnight. But we do change.

So learn how to love me. Love me how I was, how I am, and how I'm going to be. We don't know this new Dormouse and the old one will never really go away. But the cracks are starting to show again so a new Dormouse is on the way whether you're ready for her or not. First comes the slow burn then comes the slow rebuild.

-The Dormouse

It is far better to be feared than loved

So here we are again. The semester draws to a close and I fall apart a little and then a little more. These classes, their demands, they take too much from me. It is freezing outside but I'll stand there with my cigarette and smoke until I can't feel my fingers because it makes me calm. He attempted to introduce me to his friend today. I froze. I stared like a deer trapped in headlights and then muttered something about having to go to the library. That wasn't a lie of course, I did have to go to the library. But mostly I just didn't want to be forced to speak to someone new. I never want that. Goddess help me if he ever does manage to trap his fiancée and me in the same place. I'll probably throw up on her. That will not make her like me any more. And it will be mortifying.

I have decided I would like another tattoo. I don't know where to put it. A quote from a Dylan Thomas poem. It's a lovely quote. "Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means/Time held me green and dying/Though I sang in my chains like the sea." But where to put it? I do really need some feedback on this. Should there be a picture with it? Should it go on my rib cage? I'd like to figure this out so I can get it done when I get home.

Home is coming soon. Home is awful. I do not relish the thought of being there. But I do miss my baby and I miss my ladies. And perhaps I miss some other people too. Perhaps this one last Christmas will be okay? Until we get there I guess we won't know. I do so hope I can find a way to make things feel exciting and not dreadful. If for no other reason than because it's what my Mother deserves from me. It is after all the last Christmas I will spend at home with her for a very long time.

-The Dormouse

Off with her head!

Near the end of Girl, Interrupted Brittney Murphy's character hangs herself. She chops up her wrists and then strings herself up. There is a close up on her hand and it's got blood all over it. I mention this because I watched that film recently. Just last night in fact. It was perhaps not the best choice to make. I have been having what one might call a terrible week you see. I have been accused of being a homewrecker. I have been called a slut. I haven't been sleeping. Or eating. I got called a crazy person. And then I got told I'm not crazy enough to be worth anyone's time. I have had essays and presentations and discussion questions and I haven't had a moment to sit by myself and think. So instead I got wasted. A helpful hint for you my dear readers: chips are not a meal replacement and they certainly won't fill your stomach up enough to make it okay to go out drinking.

So here I was, out drinking with my girlfriend and having a pretty good time. We're joking around and dancing and having a good time. That moment should have lasted but of course someone had to ruin it. Enter Big Mouth. She's out partying with us and she decides now, when we're having fun and smiling and laughing, is the appropriate time to bring up the most awful man that we know. She just wants to talk about him and talk about him and all I want is for her to shut up. I was having a good time. I had forgotten he called me a slut. I had forgotten he deemed me unworthy of life. But Big Mouth won't be quiet. She's insisting upon him as the main topic of conversation. Needless to say she ruined my night.

I need to find a better way to deal. I've decided to start seeing someone, professionally I mean. It didn't work out in the past but I think it could work this time. Just need to find someone new, someone who is professional and won't judge me and won't tell my secrets to her other patients. I need to do something because what I've been doing clearly isn't working.

-The Dormouse

All in a golden afternoon

If you must know darling, it's your voice. It's not the words you say it's the voice you say them with. It's deep and it's calm and it's soothing. That's why I called.

-The Dormouse

It was much pleasanter at home, when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller...

Ohio was everything I needed it to be. For those of you who didn't know, I've just spent the last 4 days in Ohio celebrating Thanksgiving and relaxing. Goddess did I ever need to relax. Everything was getting to me far more than I would ever have liked it to around here. So I picked up and I left, I flew to Ohio and spend the weekend shopping and laughing and eating and shopping and laughing and eating some more. It was wonderful. I haven't felt that light in a while. I changed my hair while I was there. It's darker, straighter, shorter (okay, not terribly shorter) and it's lovely. I feel sexier. I catch myself in mirrors and I can't stop looking. I look different, good different.

But of course breaks can't last forever. So I'm back here and hiding away in the library and desperately attempting to finish an essay and a project. I've lost the reins entirely on the project. The essay is not much better. I can't focus. But isn't that always the case. I wish Ohio could have lasted forever. I didn't need cigarettes there. I need them here. I need them badly. I've nearly finished the pack I'd left before break. I'll need to get another one soon. But this essay has the priority I suppose.

-The Dormouse

Curiouser and curiouser

It seems it is that time of year again. The time when everyone gathers 'round a table piled high with food and tells everyone what they are thankful for. Usually at this time of year I would mock the tradition, complain (loudly) about how silly it is to celebrate the mass slaughter of Native Americans in a desperate struggle for land. However, this year I find I have things to be thankful for so instead I think I will share those. After all, how many times can you listen to my pointless speech about murder and turkey? So here it is, the list of the things your lovely Dormouse finds herself thankful for this year.

I am thankful for my friends who have stood by me through the good times and the not so good times. For the friends who have held my hand when I was sad, laughed with me when I was happy, and gave dirty looks to that other friend who was insulting me to my face. It has been a difficult year and really a girl couldn't ask for better from those who have supported her. So my dears, you are lovely human beings and I only hope you know how much I love you. I hope in my small ways I have made your lives better. I want you to know that you have made mine not only bearable but wonderful.

I am thankful for an old friend who strolled back into my life recently and reminded me that I still have it. That I am, for all my faults, still fun and exciting and beautiful. I'd thought I'd lost it. I'd thought I had grown dull and let the fire in me go out. It turns out it's been there all along. I just needed someone to come along and fan the flames a little. So thank you for helping me find my old self and my old confidence. I know I've told you I appreciate it. I don't think you understand how much.

I am thankful that I am strong and capable and that I can make my own voice be heard. I've worked long and hard to get to this point and now no one can take it away from me. And I'm thankful that I've learned this at last.

I am thankful for my family finally learning how to be a family. It's been hard but we're here. We still have a lot of work to do but maybe this year we won't get into a screaming match on Christmas Eve and no one will throw a jar at anyone's head. We're all still together and the gods have granted us one more year so maybe we can get it right. I have high hopes. We've been moving in such a good direction. I can almost say "I love you" and mean it every time.

Finally, I am thankful that the ghosts of my past do not destroy my present. Certainly they are here lurking in the shadows and begging to be let free. But they are not attacking. They've let me be and I've found some small peace. I am thankful for the comfort they offer and the distance they allow me.

So my (much less) hypothetical fans go to your houses (or wherever you make your home) and be thankful for all the little things. Be sentimental and eat too much food. Hug everyone too much and drink a little too much wine. Be merry. Indulge a little too much. Know that you are loved and that somewhere there is someone who is thankful for you. Have a wonderful holiday and do a shot for me.

-The Dormouse

Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.

Oh darling, let's just let our broken record spin. The needle keeps skipping in the same place and we'll never move on from this. We try to repair it but let's get serious here, it's never going to play all the way through. So just accept it and let the song do what it wants. You can stand on the tracks as you watch me derail and we'll go down in beautiful flames. You can kiss the burning metal while the fire consumes us. Let me be your grand self-destruction and I'll let you be mine. We're good together when we're not talking. So darling what I'm saying is you and I can try to move past this but inevitably you'll watch me push the big red button and the two of us will go hurtling into space. Or maybe we'll just go hurtling into the backseat. So just relax and let it happen. You and I, we just don't change, we were made to stop the record player here over and over again.

-The Dormouse

Setence first--verdict afterwards.

I got an e-mail today telling me I'd run off on an opportunity to meet his fiancée. I was unaware he wanted to introduce me to his fiancée. I e-mailed him back and told him I was very sorry for running off and that I would like to meet her. Then I started thinking about that. And I freaked out. I started hyperventilating. I couldn't conceive of a situation where meeting a new person ended well. I couldn't breathe I was so frozen with terror. Just the thought of meeting her and freezing up like I always do. To have her think I am some sort of idiotic mute her fiancé has befriended out of pity would be too terrible to imagine. I sat at my computer and tried to make things stop spinning as the utter terror of meeting someone new tried to kill me. And things started going upside down and I felt scared and dizzy and I wasn't even meeting her. A series of frantic IMs to Switzerland and some deep deep breaths later and I'm feeling okay. But Goddess only knows what will happen if he actually attempts to introduce me again.

I've started smoking again. It helps. I mean, it's not the best crutch to lean on but I find of late that when I panic and begin to feel like I'm crawling out of my own skin a cigarette seems to bring the calm. Maybe that's what I'll do. If he brings it up again I'll just take a deep drag on my cigarette, let the smoke out through my nose, and pretend that meeting his fiancée won't end in disaster. Perhaps it won't. He could very well see my panic and find a way to save me from it. Of course, he could also let me flounder. I certainly hope he doesn't. That would be awful. I'll let you know how it turns out. Maybe I'll just tell him how badly I panic and he'll find some way to understand it? Who knows. I'm not psychic. If I were I wouldn't have run off instead of sticking around and being introduced like a normal person and we wouldn't be in this situation.

-The Dormouse

Do you suppose she's a wildflower?

He wrote me a song. And it's lovely.

Lately I've been watching 80s films. They're wonderful. But I've come to a conclusion. Much as I enjoy John Hughes films I am increasingly certain that I could never be a John Hughes film. Years ago I thought perhaps I was The Breakfast Club. Only how could I possibly be The Breakfast Club? I'm certainly not Molly Ringwald and even though it really seems like I'm Ally Sheedy I could never give myself up in that way. I could never change everything about me to make a guy notice. So I'm not The Breakfast Club and when I first realized that it really bummed me out. I wanted everything to turn out okay and to write that witty letter at the end of the film to all the people in the world who see me in the simplest of terms. But that film is not me. It is put together too carefully and everything is too perfect. And nothing in my life is ever that careful or perfect.

But he wrote me a song. And it's lovely.

-The Dormouse

Oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate!

Let's hold a funeral. We'll mourn...well, we'll morn me. Or rather, we'll mourn the me I used to be. You see, lately I've been missing her. She was fun. She was completely mad but she was fun. She knew who she was and what was important. I don't feel like I know who I am anymore. One can say a lot of things about addiction but at least it gave me something to love. Lately I've been out of sorts. I feel like everything has gone grey. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to say good-bye to the old me so that maybe I won't miss her so much. But who would have anything nice to say about her at her funeral?

-The Dormouse

If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a lot faster than it does.

Lately I find I have been allowing other people to make my life decisions for me. I sit around and let them tell me what is good for me, what isn't, and especially which people I should be allowed to keep in my life. So I think I'm going to stand up for myself once and for all and you my (slightly less hypothetical) fans will sit powerless to stop me.

So here's the thing, I'm a grown woman. Certainly I make stupid choices and obviously I sometimes overreact to things. But as a woman who is recognized both socially and legally as an adult I am allowed to make these stupid choices. I am allowed to get drunk on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, or any other night of the week. The law says I can do that as long as I don't vomit all over the street or steal a car. I am allowed to do basically whatever I want so long as it's not completely against the law. Being friends with a man who is engaged? Not actually illegal. Talking on a relatively regular basis about things going on in our lives? Still not illegal. Even having a thing for the aforementioned man who is engaged? NOT ILLEGAL! So why, I ask you, is everyone I know trying to convince me that I have done something wholly wrong and unforgivable? I've made a friend, a friend who is funny and charming and intellectually stimulating. And yes, he is also pretentious, outspoken, and sometimes odd. And he's engaged. And I'm dating someone else. Somehow this makes it impossible for  us to be friends.

Only, I really can't understand exactly what is so wrong with our friendship. We're not sleeping together. We're not going out on secret dates (although those are fun). We're not even seeing each other outside of class. So what have I done wrong here? Why am I being shamed by my friends? Why am I being told I'm essentially the other woman? Clearly I am not. In order to be the other woman I would need to first be doing something other than engaging intellectually with another human being who happens to already be in a relationship with someone else. In this situation I am not doing a single thing wrong. I'm not even attempting to come between him and a woman I have never even met, or seen, or heard much about other than an offhanded mention of a fiancée. Fine, I admit it, I'm incredibly attracted to him. So what? Back the fuck off. Stop treating me like this is 19th century America. I'm not Hester fucking Prynne, I didn't sleep with a priest and conceive a child out of wedlock. Stop trying to pin a huge scarlet A on my chest. I'm a big girl and I can do what I want and it's really none of your business if what I want is to be friends with someone who shares the same ideas as myself in subjects that hold our mutual interest. Seriously, stop it. Even if you think it's a mistake it's my mistake to make. I'm a big enough girl to get myself into and out of these situations without you trying to make me feel like I've done something wrong.

-The Dormouse

Who...are...you?

So here I am. Reclining on a couch. In my friend's room. Trying to sleep. And sleep eludes me yet again. I don't understand it. I just want to sleep. Does anyone have the secret? I'd like it please.

-The Dormouse

If one drinks much from a bottle marked poison it is almost to certain to disagree with one sooner or later.

I drink. I drink a lot. I drink and I do terrible things while I'm drunk. I say things I don't mean. No, not true. I say things I do mean. I think that's the problem. I can't keep things to myself. I can't not say "I think we should sleep together" or "I used to be in love with you." I just don't know how keeping those things in works when I'm intoxicated. So I spill and I spill and I spill until I pass out. Maybe this is something I should learn to do without the help of alcohol? Or perhaps it's not possible. I don't know. I should at least try. But who am I kidding?

-The Dormouse

It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change

I have laid myself bare. To someone new. To someone I don't know I can trust with those raw, red moments of my life. What have I done? How could I have offered up to him my most painful, intimate, frightening secrets. I so nearly opened up entirely. This is not me. I haven't been sleeping, I haven't been eating (at least nearly not as much as I should be), I feel like I'm slipping out of existence. I want sleeping pills. I want something that will put me out for the night. Just so I can rest, so I can stop thinking. But pills scare me. I'll love them too much and then what will I have made of my life? There's nothing insightful for me to say here. I'm losing it. Can someone buy me a time machine so I can go back and make everything different? I hate the way it's all turned out. I want to scream, I absolutely want to scream but I feel like no one would hear me. I'm feeling too lost, too gone. Until next time...

-The Dormouse

I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning?

Deep sigh of relief. He loved it. Dearest Dormouse why must you panic at the littlest of things? You know that essay was beautifully put together. You know that he respects your opinions otherwise he would not have expressed an interest in reading the aforementioned essay. And most of all Dormouse you understand that you're intelligent, you know your shit, and there was no reason to believe that he would think anything else. I think, my dear Dormouse, that we really need to sit down and think about the way you value yourself.

In other, different news, tonight we're going to think about...Peter Pan?

"Dormouse," you are undoubtedly wondering, "why are we going to think about Peter Pan tonight?"

Well, I'm glad you asked. You see Peter has been showing up in my life lately. We were tasked with reading the story of the Boy Who Would Not Grow Up for one of those pesky (but terribly wonderful) literature classes I take as part of my never ending quest to obtain a useless degree. And in reading his story I fell in love with Peter all over again. I confess, he was the first boy I ever fell in love with as a young girl. There was just something about Peter that I found so intoxicating. But no matter how in love you are with Peter you know he's going to break your heart. You know he'll never grow up and you will and inevitably he'll leave you because you are a grown woman and he will never be a grown man. I find though that this is perhaps what I like best about Peter. He is someone on whom I can depend to break my heart. Now, does that seem odd? That I would love that I can depend on him to break my heart?

Peter and I have a complicated relationship. Well, as complicated a relationship as one can possibly have with a fictional character. But then I suppose one can have a truly complicated relationship with someone who doesn't exist, especially if one is in love with him. Maybe if I look at the way I love the Peter I can find the explanation for the way I love the only other man in my life I have allowed to break my heart with the consistency Peter does. But that I think is a complication for another time. I think for now I will allow you to draw your own conclusions. Until next time...

-The Dormouse

The time has come my little friends to talk of other things...

This is not a feminist blog.

"Why, Dormouse," you might say, "we, your adoring (and still mostly hypothetical) fans, were under no impression that this was a feminist blog. You did not have to tell us that."

And of course you would be right. I did not have to tell you that this, my blog, is not a feminist blog. Except lately I've been thinking that perhaps it should be? That perhaps I have some things to say about the world and the patriarchy and all those lovely feminist things my Women's Studies minor has been cramming into my brain for the last four years. Perhaps I should put my views out there? I certainly do have a lot of them. But something stops me from wanting to feminist blog. It is, I think, one thing to be a feminist who blogs and another thing entirely to have a feminist blog. Perhaps I am afraid that some of the things I say will not match up to the internet's standards of feminist blogging? I certainly know I don't always say things "a good feminist" would say.

"Dormouse," you are all now calling out, "why are you even thinking about a feminist blog? You know you can still have this regular old blog and say feminist things sometimes. We will still love you."

I know my adoring (hypothetical) fans. I know you will still love me. But, if I don't give myself some direction in my pointless internet ramblings will I still love myself? You see, this is the question I have been struggling with of late. The interwebs are such a strange place to be. They make you question yourself far too much. I think for now I will just shelf the feminist blog thing and we can move on to the real problems tonight.

Adoring (hypothetical) fans, I think you deserve the truth from me. Tonight I had a panic attack over an e-mail. You see, I sent the King of the Hipsters an essay I'd written that he'd said he wanted to read. He said he wanted to read it a month ago. I only just got the courage (in case you were wondering, the formula for courage is as follows: 1 part feeling pretty good about yourself, 1 part feeling sort of sexy, 1 part feeling pretty intelligent, and 3 parts not getting enough sleep for an entire week and thus having poor decision making skills) to send it to him tonight. And now I've sent it. And it's gone. Out into the world of the interwebs where he will log in to his e-mail account and read it and maybe like it but maybe not and e-mail me back. Unfortunately, I have suddenly lost all of my courage and I wish more than anything that e-mail came with an "I absolutely regret the decision to send this" button. I find myself wanting his approval and fearing deep down inside that I will not get it. I am terrified that I may seem adorable, charming, intelligent, and maybe even sexy in person but that it's all a front for this monstrous creature who cannot even send an e-mail without seeming like a complete freak. Suddenly I feel awkward and stupid and so very small. This is not a feeling I enjoy. I do not recommend it for your futures my adoring (hypothetical) fans. And now, even though I want nothing more than to calm down I find myself obsessing. I find I am sitting on my couch dreading the moment I will find a reply from him in my inbox. This is the moment of realization I suppose where I find that being in lust with S was a lot easier. That through it all I can be more confident of my sensuality than I can of my own intelligence. I cannot flirt with my intelligence. I don't find my academic prowess to be particularly sexy. Yet here I am, attempting to gain approval through my intellectual pursuits and I am worried that I am failing. Perhaps things are easier when they are sexual. Perhaps I should stick to that? I don't know. After all of this you, my adoring (hypothetical) fans, will find me, the Dormouse, completely at a loss. Maybe you can figure it all out? Until next time...

-The Dormouse

It would have made a dreadfully ugly child; but it makes rather a handsome pig...

Hi everyone, it's me again. Did you miss me? Of course you didn't, there really isn't a you but I'll pretend for my ego that there is. I'm locked away in the library supposedly working on a seven page paper about a topic that, let's face it, I couldn't care less about. So of course here I am instead. I really wish I wasn't this easy distracted but then I suppose that's part of taking classes you don't care about at university. But really who cares about essays and classes? Obviously I've turned the apathy button on. I've got something much more interesting to think about: men. Okay, so maybe men aren't all that interesting. Would you care more if I told you that when I say men I mean lovers? I've been thinking about lovers a lot lately. I haven't had a lot in my life (and even if I did, do you think I'd tell you?) but I have had my fair share of romantic (and not so romantic) encounters. All of these encounters were with very different people some of them men, some of them women, some good, some bad, some completely regrettable, and some wonderful. This is what I've come to realize about lovers: in one's life there are certain kinds of lovers one absolutely must experience. And, since I'm such a lovely person (and I absolutely do not want to write this essay) I'll share these lovers with you. And yes, these are generalizations and I do know that not every guy who fits into these categories will be the way I've experienced them. Stop being such a downer. If you want accurate portrayals of life, lovers, and all that other good stuff stop reading a blog on the internet and just go out and live your own life.

1. The sweet, nerdy, funny, sort of shy but completely adorable guy: This guy is so wonderful because he's just so kind. He'll hug you when you're feeling down and he'll always make you laugh. He's shy but once he opens up to you you'll be completely let in. He won't hold back anything, including how he feels about you. He's nervous, cautious. He doesn't know what moves he's allowed to make and this is actually wonderful. He'll ask for your permission to touch you, he'll never assume that just because he was allowed to do something once that it is now his right and privilege to do it over and over again. In my experience he's also a great kisser but this can't be guaranteed. Maybe you'll have to teach him how to do something. Maybe he'll already know how to do it on his own. The best thing about him though is that he's willing to try. He's not so full of himself, of how great he is, that he's unwilling to let you take the lead. And when it's all over he'll totally sit with you on the couch and watch that stupid movie that always makes you laugh (or that stupid movie that always makes him laugh...or that stupid movie that always makes you both laugh).

2. The passionate, all about your ass/tits/hips/whatever body part of yours you're most obsessed with, "I want you right here, right now, and damn the consequences" guy: He's sexy. That's the main draw of this guy. He's sexy and he thinks you're sexy too. And yes, you can't base a relationship off looks alone but you can definitely base an affair on that. Maybe somewhere down the line you'll find out this guy has a personality but we're not talking about boyfriend material here, we're talking about sex. And goodness is this guy ever good at sex. He's basically walking sex (yes, women can objectify too...it's not just a thing for boys anymore) and he wants you all the time. He'll make you feel amazing, he'll tell you you're beautiful, he'll touch you in ways you didn't know you could be touched. In the elevator, in the car, in the fucking broom closet if he wants you he'll let you know. He's up for anything. He's ready for you when you want him. He's sort of the perfect booty call and though it may be un-feminist of me to turn people into nothing but a quick lay let's face it, sometimes a quick lay is nice. No strings attached can be wonderful. When you can abandon everything about your life and just fall right into fucking it can feel so nice. And there's never the awkwardness of having to go out on a date.

3. The strung out, trippy, hippy guy: Okay, maybe a drug addict isn't a practical consideration for everyone. You really need to be a part of exactly the right subculture for this guy otherwise you'll just fight all the time about how he needs to put down the bong and get a real job. But since I spent a good deal of time being part of just exactly the right subculture I can tell you that if you know this guy you should get with him. He's laid back and he'll share his stash with you. He'll pay for your pie when you've got the munchies and he'll probably know what to do when you have a bad trip. But most importantly this guy is down for the kink. His mind has been opened enough that he's interested in something fun and maybe just outside the bounds of "normal" sex. He's fun. Of course, he's a problem if you're a recovering addict and he's not so stay away from him unless you're looking to get back into that shit.

4. The guy you'd like to be with for...forever: Yeah, I went there. Eventually everyone finds that guy they want to be with forever (unless he's a girl which pretty much goes for all of these guys because yes, all of these guys exist in female form). Maybe it doesn't last for forever but while you're in it and it feels so right this guy is everything you need. There's not much more I can say. All the lovers in the world don't really compare to the guy you can love. Who knows? Maybe he's one of the three guys I mentioned up there. Maybe he's one of the many different kinds of lovers a girl can have in her life. But I encourage everyone to fall in love because really that makes it all feel so much nicer. It's comforting to have a partner in sex and in, well, life.

So that's how I see it. Go forth all you hypothetical people reading this blog. Go out there and have some fun, have some sex, and maybe even fall in love. Go live your life. As for me? I'm going to go out there and finish this horrible essay.

-The Dormouse

The adventures first...explanations take such a dreadful time.

Hey, it's me, Dormouse in jolly ol' England. It's beautiful here. Getting here was absolute murder but now I'm in London and it's all fabulous. I've made friends (*shock*) and we've been wandering around the city as much as we possibly could. And so now, not that you care, I will recount what has happened in the past few days. Sit back, relax, and enjoy pretending you were as cool as me.

Day 1: After traveling 20 hours on planes from Honolulu to Heathrow I stepped off the plane and into the hottest and most uncomfortable airport I think i have ever experienced. It was disgusting. I thought I was melting. My stomach was tied up in absolute knots because I was irrationally terrified that they would not allow me into the country. The immigration officer asked too many questions but he let me in. Then it was a long trek to find the University representative who would lead me to the coach and take me to the school. Made it there in one piece (just in case anyone wasn't certain) and met up with my friend. The first day wasn't particularly eventful. We met a girl from Austria, a guy and a girl from France, and a hipster from Virginia. Everyone went into town to a pub including a bunch of kids from Jersey. They were embarrassing. They fist pumped. We pretended they were from a different country.

Day 2: Another fairly uneventful day. Registered for classes, got my student ID, pretty basic stuff. Went to Asda which is basically British WalMart. Bought Capri-Sun. Was amazed when it tasted better than in the states. Figured out it was because they use sugar here instead of corn syrup. Fun times all around. Then my friend who came to England with me decided she could no longer remain in the country for health reasons and left me. That was upsetting. Incredibly upsetting. I'm actually still upset about it.

Day 3: Now friendless, I wandered about looking for someone to take me in. Found quite a few people actually. Went into Central London with all the other students here. Took far too many photos. Had a blast. Rode the London Eye. The view is absolutely spectacular from way up there. I got some amazing photos of London. Ended up staying in the city with a bunch of other girls to grab dinner. I ended up getting crepes with another girl. They were delicious. I had dessert for dinner because the savory crepes did not appeal to me. Overall it was a very exciting night.

Day 4: Went to Hampstead and Camden with all the other students. Saw Boy George's house in Hampstead. Saw a bunch of houses which were once former residences of famous authors, painters, and other various artists. Hampstead was beautiful. Camden was crazy. It's full of hipsters and amazing shops. I think I died and went to heaven while I was there it was that fantastic. I had some awesome Indian food with two of my other friends. We wandered around the shops and I even bought a pretty little amethyst necklace. It was, simply put, a marvelous afternoon. We got back early and I was so exhausted I managed to get some sleep.

Day 5: Happy fourth! I ended up going to the Freud Museum, Abbey Road, Baker Street, and then back to Camden. It was pretty awesome. I got my photo running across the road and with a giant statue of Sherlock Holmes. It was such an eventful day. There was a little cafe in Hampstead, where we started our morning, and they had the most amazing pain au chocolat I think I have ever had. I want to go back there as soon as possible.

Wandering around London has been fun thus far. Who knows where the days will take me next? Today we're heading over to the Tower of London. It should be a fun time for all involved. Hope everyone else's lives are as amazing as mine is right now. I feel so excited and free and light. It feels good to be able to feel this way. Until next time!

-The Dormouse

You're late for tea

Figs are beautiful little fruits. And they will be in season soon. And they will be at Whole Foods. And I will be buying them and wrapping them in prosciutto and stuffing them with goat cheese, balsamic vinegar, and paprika. Hopefully they will be beautiful little fruits wrapped in meat which my friends will enjoy. That is the hopeful moment of the day.

My computer has been fixed and it is working. I am quite happy with that. They replaced all the broken bits around the edges which is nice because now it looks prettier. I am taking pleasure in small victories because otherwise I will spend my month here moping which no one wants at all. I am reading a lovely novel about a nerdy girl who is in love and who is experiencing a terrible summer. Quite funny really. It will keep me quite entertained for the next few days at work. Work unfortunately has gotten no better.

I would like it if someone would text me while I am drunk and remind me not to fold other people's laundry. Not all of my friends are as good natured as S. when I berate them for folding their laundry incorrectly.

-The Dormouse

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense

Today at work someone thanked me for taking a picture of her and her husband and I almost cried. People at work can be so rude that it's tear worthy when someone thanks you for taking five seconds out of your day to take a picture of her and her husband. Now, isn't that upsetting? I wish someone had told me when I took my job that in the eyes of the customers I had sacrificed my right to be treated like a human being. Oh well, mustn't complain too much Dormouse. At least you have a job. And your co-workers are nice. And every so often you'll run into some customers who are really and genuinely nice to you. Take pleasure in the little things or you'll lose your mind.

In other news: I wish they hadn't called it the iPad. And I wish they would stop saying "iPad" over and over again in the commercials. It sounds silly. Knock it off Apple. iTab would've been a better choice but I guess you didn't think to ask me for a name when you were designing the stupidly named tablet. That was silly of you Steve Jobs. Very silly.

-The Dormouse

Now, I give you fair warning, either you or your head must be off

I would like to be a mother. I enjoy mothering. Not that I would ever tell my boys back at school but I love to mother them. I love to bake them birthday cakes from scratch and make a fuss of them getting a year older. I like to make them dinner and force them all to sit down at the table and eat together. I like to do their laundry and fold their laundry and make their beds. Goddess, I miss being able to scream full names when they've got their fingers in the cupcake batter or hold their heads in my lap and pet their hair and tell them what to do with their lives.

I guess I've always mothered. I've got children in all of my homes. Children but no partners and isn't that strange? I don't think I'd like to do it alone when the children I have are finally and truly my own. But for now it's nice. And they like it. Or at least they pretend to. I'd never admit it to them, I'd never want them to know that I secretly love it when they call me mom or when they bring me their pants and their problems to mend. I'm going to miss my babies when I leave them. I won't have children anymore for a long time when school is over and I'm forced to let them go into the world. of course, they don't need me. They're all grown boys; they're all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. But I think they know I need to be their mom. I think they know it keeps me centered, keeps me balanced.

I never used to think of myself as the mothering type but now I find I love it. I love children, not just my children but children in general. I love to take care of others. Now that's new Dormouse, since when have you liked to take care of others? I have no idea. I didn't always like this. Maybe I'm growing up? Maybe not. Maybe it's always been in me waiting to come out. It's new and it's fragile and it's scary but I like it. I like this me who wants babies, who wants to be loving, who wants to be caring. She's a lovely person. I hope she can stay around.

-The Dormouse

Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- "He  Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by W.B. Yeats

So, W.B. Yeats writes some amazing poetry. I think he might be my favorite. Or possibly just one of my favorites. I think that one's dreams is the best one could possibly offer someone else. I guess that's sort of the point. Oh look at me being a literature major even in my time off.

Being home is still difficult. Dad is sick, mom is worried, and the family is barely functioning as usual. I am still missing my babies at school and it's making me sick with how much I can feel the lack of their presence. Oh well. C'mon Dormouse, just buck up and deal with it.

-The Dormouse

Was I the same when I got up this morning?

So here I am. Back home. It's warm, it's sticky, and I'm done with it. Having to be home and watch my dad wander around the house looking ill. He's so thin and so tired. It's too hard for me. Work starts tomorrow. At least work will get me out of the house. I will refrain from complaining about my job via internet because I don't want to lose it.

So now what? I'm home and school is over until August and I've got to figure out how to live thousands of miles away from my friends. This is always the hardest time of year. I always want to be anywhere but here. Of course, this is the only option I've got. Just need to keep thinking to myself I'm only here for a month. Only one month and then off to England.

But here I am, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for my trip to England to arrive. Meanwhile I miss my boyfriend, I miss my girlfriends, I miss my S. (I don't even know what else to call him at this point), I miss New York and the people I can tell all my secrets to. Because that's been the most upsetting thing since I've been back. I'm bursting with secrets and there's no one to tell them to. I want to burst with everything I've done at school, with how fabulous and conflicted and confused and wonderful I feel. So who wants to know what I'm about to explode with?

I want to be in the world, not out here in the middle of nowhere. There's so much out there and so little here. I'm bored and lonely and it's only been a few days. Goddess please let the summer go by quickly. If it doesn't I think I'll simply melt. How melodramatic of you Dormouse, just buck up and deal with it. Figure out how to exist here or you're going to lose it.

-The Dormouse

"And the mome raths outgrabe..."

Another day, another paper, and another several hours spent in the library desperately seeking research. And once again I find myself too distracted to actually get down to it and do my work. The more I keep trying to figure out how to write the diary of an eighteenth century French prostitute the more I find I cannot focus on my assignment. Perhaps someone should inform professors that they simply cannot assign papers during the last week of classes. What I turn in tomorrow will inevitably be absolute crap. At least it's only around four or five pages for each of the two assignments due tomorrow. I wish someone would simply invent a pill one could take which would force one not to procrastinate.

The weather outside is beautiful, I haven't got a single class today, and instead of having fun I am in the library attempting to make myself sound competent on the topic of eighteenth century prostitutes. It isn't working so far. I want to be outside in the sun. It's too depressing in this library. Everyone looks anxious, I suppose it's just that time of year. I feel like I'm about to crack. I hate this project, I hate not being sure I'm going to pass this academic year, I hate the pressure heaped upon students every year. It's insane.

-The Dormouse

The Pool of Tears

So here I am. In the library. Abusing my brain for ten pages on DH Lawrence's Sons and Lovers and coal miner class relationships in early 20th century England. I cannot think properly. I keep getting distracted which completely negates the point of coming to the library at 11:00 in the morning to work on a paper. I find I have nothing to say about class in the work of DH Lawrence. Unfortunately, I have nothing to say about anything else in his works. My brain feels like it's on total shut down mode and I'm just trying to decide if it would make more sense for me to take a break from all the work I'm not doing and grab lunch with my friends in the hopes that a brilliant idea will strike while I'm consuming my disgustingly oily and incredibly fatty egg and cheese sandwich. Welcome to a major in English Literature. The good news: my professor isn't a terribly hard grader so if I produce something I'll be able to make it by in his class. The bad news: I can't seem to produce a single sentence.

Time for total disclosure I suppose. My dad is sick. Really sick. Dying sick. And I'm 6,000 miles away from him and home trying to write a meaningless paper on DH Lawrence. This is so fucked up. I spend most of my nights awake crying until I can't cry anymore instead of doing my homework. It all seems so very pathetic. I feel so completely alone. I need someone to hold me so all the tiny pieces of me don't go flying to a million different places. I don't need to talk to anyone, I just need someone to touch me and to remind me that I am still human.

I feel lost. I don't know how to say to someone, "I don't need to tell you what's wrong, I don't need to tell you anything, I just need you to hold me and to stroke my hair and touch my skin until I don't feel like I'm about to break apart." I guess there's no other way to say it but saying just that. But I don't know if I'm ready to let another person in like that. I should just tell my boyfriend what's wrong, instead of confiding in another person who probably has no interest in what's going so wrong in my life. My dearest and sweetest friend in whom I have confided all of my problems in the last few months is undoubtedly sick of hearing about them. I would be if I were him. He has a life, other friends, and much more to be happy about. I don't know why I insist on bringing him down. It's just that when he holds me I feel completely safe, the way I did when I was a kid and my mother would sing all the bad dreams away at bed time. I just don't know if he'd understand what I need of him if I asked it. Things are becoming too heated, too passionate, too out of bounds with him. Asking what I need of him could push us too far over an edge we're both afraid to plummet off of. Who knew college could be so difficult? I thought growing up would get easier. Apparently it doesn't. It just becomes increasingly more like a bad emo song. Maybe all there is left to do is turn on the Bright Eyes and shut down. Or maybe, just maybe, things get better in the future. Maybe there's a time when I can stop crying and my dad will get better and I'll have a plan for the rest of my life. It's pretty to think so anyway.

-The Dormouse

Down the Rabbit Hole

So, I've been a busy bee since I started this thing. I'm back again. Hi, whoever is out there reading this. I just got back from a trip to Disney World with my mother and my aunt. That was exciting. I've come to the conclusion that every child should go to Disney World at least once in their life. I guess this is not a reasonable thing to wish for. I know, Disney World is expensive. Some families save their entire life for one trip to Disney World. I was a lucky one. My parents were able to take me several times when I was a child and they are still able and willing to take me now that I am an adult. But here are the reasons I think every child should be allowed to experience Disney at least once:

1. The park attendants make you feel special.

When you're at Disney World you're not just an ordinary little girl, you're a princess. Everyone calls you princess. Everyone is there to make your experience the most magical one possible. Disney World is a place where every child is assured to feel important. Even in crowds of thousands of people it is made certain that every child is able to feel like the entire park is revolving around them. That's a nice feeling when you're a kid and you think no one listens to you.

2. Disney can make you forget all your problems.

When you're in Disney World things aren't as bad as they are in the real world. Nothing can be bad when Mickey Mouse is around and everyone is smiling and laughing and having a good time. It's a place where you can go and all your worries melt away. There's no concern for the economy or the future in Disney World, unless it's the concern that Walt Disney's future in Tomorrowland was not wholly accurate. Disney World is able to erase the uncertainties of life and present a person with pure joy.

3. It'll bring your family closer together.

This is the big one. Disney World is something that a child can share with its parents. Everyone is having a good time while they're there and so fond memories can be shared by everyone. For a child, it is a place where parents listen. For a parent, it is a place where their children are completely happy. This shared happiness creates something wonderful between a parent and a child that will stay with both parties as long as they both live.

As a child I went to Disney World several times and each time is one of the happiest moments of my life. Of course I remember the rides and the shows and the candy and the toys. But that's not what's most important. What I remember the most is how happy I was and how happy my family was too. We all got along and we all made it work in Disney World and I guess that's why it's important to me. I think every child should be able to have these fond memories to look back on. I know that someday my children will certainly be given the experiences I was lucky enough to have as a kid in Disney World. But maybe that's just me. I certainly hope not though.

-The Dormouse

Here I am...

Hi blog world, it's me. I'm here. Nice to meet you. I guess I should try to say something eloquent, give a reason why I think it's important for all of you out there in blog world to pay attention to me. I've got nothing. I'm just your average, every day, college student with no idea what she wants from the future. I guess you and I will just have to wait with baited breath to find out what I've got to say. So here's to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.