The past year was but as yesterday to Peter.

The past year was not, however, as yesterday to your dearly beloved Dormouse. 2011 was a totally shit year. Between Bear and I ending our three and a half year relationship, my father dying, and my idiotic decision to move back home to an island in the middle of nowhere I'm ready to shed 2011 like last season's fur. I'm looking forward. I'm off to graduate school, moving back to New York, and trying to find my footing again. No more backslides. 2012 will be for distancing myself from the pain and the self-destruction and the fog of mental illness. Or...I hope it will. Maybe this year can be the year I figure out how to be a human person. Wouldn't that be nice?

Just a little bit of pixie dust...

I'm in a weird place right now. It's been a tough year and I'm not sure how to deal with it all. Every time I think I'm taking a step forward I seem to take two steps backward. It's...deeply unsatisfying to say the least. But it's the holiday season and I'm trying to be optimistic about my life. So happy holidays all you lovely readers!

He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him...

Dear Dormouse,

Not every man is the last man you were with. Not every man is S. Not every man will say the words, "I knew I was toying with you but it was so much fun I couldn't stop." In short, not every man will derive pleasure from making you cry. This is important to remember because you deserve happiness. And you're with someone now who could make you happy. So let him try. Stop doubting his motives and assuming he's laughing at you behind your back and just be with him. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can try? I think you can.

All it takes is faith and trust...

I got a date! I got a date! La la la!

Okay, imagine me spinning around in circles all night last night singing this little ditty. Now there's a follow up verse. It goes like this:

I got a second date! I got a second date! La la la!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I, your lovely Dormouse, have managed to get not just one but two dates! Hooray for me! The first date was quite nice. I hope it can only get better from here. Maybe it's best not to get one's hopes up? But I want to get happy so badly and tonight I giggled like a fool and kissed like a teenager in a public place. My nerves are still humming and I'm smiling with all my teeth. So let's hope for the best on this, okay? Between you and me, I really like him...

To die must be an awfully big adventure...

Some nights for no good reason and out of nowhere I miss my father. He's not coming back. And I know that, obviously. I've known it since the moment my mom told me he died (I hate that word). Except I have these nights where it suddenly feels like new information. I remember and then there I am in a sobbing heap in the middle of my bed. Does it hurt less? Ever? I didn't even get to say goodbye. So busy chasing my fucking dreams 6000 miles away I didn't even tell him I loved him, or that I forgave him for everything that happened, or that I was sorry for all the things I did. Why didn't I get that chance?

-The Dormouse

In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls...

Dual post tonight. Part fat girl rant part personal bit. We might get a little feminist up in here. You know you love it.

So today I'm at Barnes and Noble browsing novels. I went in to buy a specific novel (The Magician King by Lev Grossman, which I found and bought in case you were wondering, along with a copy of the complete novels of Jane Austen because it was only $25) but ended up wandering around teen fiction for a bit and of course I found something there to make me mad. It's a novel called Life in the Fat Lane. You can check here for a plot synopsis and some really scathing reviews. If you don't want to click my helpfully provided link then I'll sum up what I got from the back of the book (let's be honest here: I was in the bookstore looking for something else, I didn't pause to read an entire book that had already pissed me off in a few short paragraphs on the back cover). Lara (Laura? I can't remember) is a beautiful girl and everybody wants to be her. Then she gets fat for no fucking reason. Now everyone hates her and she hates herself (she also apparently hates other fat people even more than she did before according to the internet reviewers). There are only two ways I can see this ending: Lara loses the weight and is incredibly relieved to never have to live as an ugly fat girl again OR Lara doesn't lose the weight but learns an all-important Fat Girl Life Lesson. By this point I'm sure you realize I don't agree with either of these conclusions. Both are detrimental and I think they're bad for the same reason. Both conclusions treat life as a fat girl as a learning opportunity. Either you learn to appreciate what you had (your "perfect" skinny body) or you learn that Fat Girl Life Lesson.

As a fat girl I have to say I'm fucking insulted. My life is not your FUCKING LEARNING OPPORTUNITY! I don't have the answers to life because people weren't nice to me because I'm fat. One day in my body probably will teach you a lot of lessons. You'll learn how to make kickass indie playlists, you'll learn how not to punch your heterosexist, racist, sizeist, grandmother in the face every time she opens her mouth, you'll probably learn how to recycle a ridiculous amount of industrial sized printer cartridges, you might even learn how to make the best pot of mac and cheese you've ever experienced in your entire life. Yes, these are all really cool things to know (especially the mac cheese thing. I'm pretty impressed with myself on that one). You know what they're not? They're not all important life lessons that will change your personality and the way you view the world (okay, dealing with my grandmother might do all those things but that's something unique to me; I do not share the old bitch with all the fat girls in all the world). I resent the idea that my life as a fat girl is so fucking abnormal, so fucking out there, that simply being me will teach some other lady all the important things she needs to know about life, the universe, and everything. Let me tell you the extra 60 pounds I'm packing did not come with an instruction manual on how to live my life and be a better person. Stop making books and TV shows and films where skinny girls learn about life through becoming fat. I am just as lost as the next person. My excess weight does not make me any more capable than anyone else and it just pisses me off when being a fat girl becomes this mystical magical thing that you learn from and then you get to transform into the beautiful princess. I'm already the fucking beautiful princess and fuck you if you can't figure it out.

In other news, the other night I said the following sentence to a friend of mine: I love the awful way he makes me feel so good. I am baffled by my own self because I know the sentence is true. There's a guy who makes me feel so amazingly lovely while simultaneously making me feel so dirty deep inside. It's been bothering me. I know I'm being used. I know I'm using him. It's a strange tug-of-war and even though we're both winning I get the feeling we're both losing too. Anyway, that's just a random middle of the night thought. My mind is wandering to all these strange places right now. Time to step back, look at myself in the mirror, and reaffirm how fucking fabulous I am. Maybe you all should do it too. We can always use a little reminder of our own greatness now and again. So, whoever you are, you're beautiful, you're wonderful, you're smart, but don't let me sit here and tell you this. Go tell it to yourself.

-The Dormouse

Any happy little thought?

I'm lonely. Incredibly lonely. I go to work every morning, I come home every night, I curl up with a good book by myself and I miss the feeling of arms around me. I want someone I can use and throw away. Does that make me horrible? I think it does. I'd be upfront about it. Just someone to have fun with, to hold me through the night, to sleep with. I'm not looking for anything serious. Of course I'm not. I'm moving back to New York in six months and that's a distance I'm not willing to jump. Plus there's this wonderful young man in DC who simply drives me wild. Things with him are still as up in the air as ever. We talk, he seems to like me, but who knows? I suppose we'll figure it out eventually.

I'm missing the continental US. But I've dug all my Harry Potter books out of storage and I'm looking forward to re-reading them. I'm thinking of getting a Harry Potter tattoo. I'm such a nerd. I like books. I like reading. I just don't want to read alone. I need someone to sit in the chair across from me while reading something thought provoking. I'm done with men who don't read. I can't be with them anymore.

-The Dormouse

You think of a wonderful thought

Hi. Have you missed me? I bet you have. You've all been sitting around saying, "Ho hum...I wish our dear Dormouse would update us on her adventures." Well, I haven't really been having any. I've started back at work and it's the same as it always is. I've just put together a very large LEGO set that looks like the Hogwarts Express. Good job me. I realize I'm quite boring while I'm home.
The other day my favorite hipster and I came up with a plan to start a band called Some Band You've Probably Never Heard Of. Sounds like an awesome plan. I should be 100% indie 100% of the time. I mean, we'll never really do it but if we did it might be amazing. I need something to do with my life besides all that scary applying to grad school stuff. At least my writing sample is coming along. Hopefully it will be something beautiful by the time I need to send it in. We'll see.
There's gay marriage in New York now. Maybe I should move back and marry my best lady friend? Or any lady friend. Might be fun.

-The Dormouse

But he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be forever barred...

Bob Dylan Wise and Love Quote Images, Graphics & Pictures - Facebook   (clipped to Polyvore.com)

So, I just found this quote and I love it. And the thing is, I think I agree. Lately I've been thinking a lot about love at first sight. It's confession time: I'm falling really hard for a guy. But Dormouse, didn't you relatively recently get out of a 3 1/2 year relationship? Well, yes I did. So what? This guy is great. He's smart and cute and funny and he makes me feel so relaxed when I'm around him. It's an impossible situation but there it is. Maybe I'll figure this all out soon. I'll let you know if I do.

-The Dormouse

Off to Neverland!

So, Dormouse, what's new in your life? Aside from the whole depressing your dad died and you're moving back home to a place and a life that you hate thing. 

That's probably what you guys have all been wondering right? Well, even if it wasn't that's what you're about to find out. I graduated from college a few days ago. Put on the cap, the gown, my honors cords and study abroad sash, and a brand new pair of high heels and marched out onto the quad of my school and graduated. It feels weird. So weird. So incredibly weird. I'm scared and happy and excited and terrified and unsure but ready for whatever the next step is.
I also turned 22 that same day. Isn't it funny how life's little coincidences work? I don't really feel older but I guess I am. Life moves on even when all you want is for it to stop! I'm getting back into Doctor Who, I'm e-mailing my boss about work, I'm making plans for when I get home. Crazy, eh? I'm just living and every day it feels a little less like my world is crumbling around me. I cry less. Is it okay to cry less? To hurt less? To learn to live with this and accept it? I don't think I'll ever get over it but maybe I can learn to accept it. Here's hoping.

-The Dormouse

They unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time

Lately it feels like all I do is make mixes. I have sad mixes, happy mixes, 90s mixes, pretty much a mix for anything you could think of. Today I made one I'm fairly proud of. So I'm obviously going to shamelessly plug it via my blog.

It's worth a listen. It has some pretty amazing covers on it. Some you've probably never even heard of before.

As for the portion of my life that isn't making mixes...things are as they tend to be. It was my father's birthday yesterday. I got drunk and made bad decisions. In case anyone was wondering how I'm dealing with my grief the answer is, as always, not well. But I'm trying to keep the pieces together. I graduate on Sunday. I'm terrified.

-The Dormouse

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting...

Deep breath and then let's just be out with this eh? My dad died on Monday. There, I've said. I've said it for about the ten thousandth time. And really, it's helping. So much. Oh yeah, I feel super helped by saying that. Oh no wait. No, I don't. I keep saying and it keeps not feeling real. What the fuck. Let me say that one again...WHAT THE FUCK?! This is me, falling apart in real time. Hope you enjoy the show...

-The Dormouse

Fly! Of course!

So, right now I'm in this place where I can either fix things that have been broken or shrug my shoulders and move on with my life. I've shed a lot of unnecessary people this semester and it's been really good for me. I feel just the tiniest bit lighter. It feels strange to be letting people go so late in the game but that's what's going on here and it also feels really good, somehow liberating. I suddenly feel like I just don't have to take your shit anymore, any of your shit. So maybe I have been growing up? I don't know. All I know is that sometimes old friends just don't make the cut anymore and when that happens you have to let them go. Does this make me a horrible person? Should I be constantly attempting to please everyone around me at the expense of my own sanity? Is that how to get along in society? Because if it  is stop the world please, I want to get off.

-The Dormouse

That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the fair narrator herself.

There is a stack of books up against my desk drawers that is quickly reaching knee level. On my dresser next to my bed there are three stacks of books that reach almost to the height of my bed. Aside from these there are books on my bed, books on my desk, books in my backpack, books in the little shelving unit in the corner of the room, books in my closet, books in my pink steamer trunk, books under my bed, and books that belong to me circulating around the rooms of the boys who live upstairs. I guess what I'm trying to say is I love books. I love everything about them. I love opening them up, I love the feel of the paper under my fingers. I love the way books smell and the anticipation that lies between each turning page. I want to get lost between the covers of each and every book I own.

I wonder sometimes what I'd do if I didn't have books to hide away in. If I had to be present every moment of every day of my life instead of burying myself under piles and piles of research and poetry and novels and short stories. I don't think I could handle it. I don't know that I could really allow myself to exist fully in the world outside of my paperbacks and hardcovers. I've come to depend on the written word to teach me how to live my life, how to speak and how to behave out there in that scary social public place we call the world. Perhaps this seems a bit sad but really it's not. It's beautiful to live in these pages, to have that safe place to go when nothing else is going right.

Lately I've been terrified that e-books are taking over the world. Everyone tells me the paper book won't ever become obsolete but really when was the last time you used a CD player? Or bought a CD? Or got something in the mail that wasn't a DVD from Netflix or a coupon? Technology eats up these clunky, in-elegant forms. We have iPods and e-mail and now we have e-readers and soon I'm afraid we won't have books. But then what will I do? How will I cope when I can't feel the pages under my fingers and I can't bring the paper up to my face and inhale the musty old scent of a well loved book? I can barely read things on a computer screen, it hurts my eyes and gives me headaches. How will I read when all of my words are on those electronic screens? Will the cold and unfeeling plastic and metal comfort me the way the soft, warm paper does? Will it soak up my tears and survive my anger when it will be launched against the wall? While I understand that technology is always moving forward and has no time for the pleas of one woman I don't think I'm ready to hand over my paper for a screen, my pulp for a rechargeable battery. I think I'm beginning to understand those old men who hoard their vinyl records, it's not about the music so much as it is about the medium. But somehow the medium makes the music better.

-The Dormouse

I taught you how to fly, what more could there be?

So tonight I'm hanging out in my bedroom, watching ridiculous British television programmes, and surfing the internet and I happen upon this secret on postsecret.com. It's really upsetting me. I mean, this is exactly what I'm talking about. I want to find the woman who sent in this secret and tell her she is beautiful and it doesn't matter how much she weighs as long as she has confidence in herself. People will look at you, will want you, as long as you love yourself. That's the trick of it isn't it?

You all know how I feel about the fat girl hate. It comes at us from outside and it comes from inside of us too. And we need to get over it! We need to take back our bodies and learn how to love ourselves. We needn't hide ourselves and feel ashamed of what we look like. So here's what I propose to everyone out there reading this: Go home tonight and look at yourself in the mirror and force yourself to see everything that's beautiful about you. Whether you love your hair, think you have beautiful eyes, are really just wild about a freckle under your right nostril, can't stop looking at your own mouth, or whatever you find lovely just look at it and say it, say out loud, "I love _____ about myself. It is beautiful. I am beautiful because I have an awesome _____." Do it every day. Find something new and wonderful about yourself because I promise you there is always something new and wonderful. Learn to love the way you are, just exactly the way you are.

-The Dormouse

Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy began to sing...

The last few days have been filled with music. A friend of mine has been offering me new bands, new songs, and something to save me from the sad indie music I've been surrounding myself with for the past few months. A lot of pop punk, some of it much more punk than pop and some more pop than punk, and the kind of music where you can shut the door and dance around in your underwear. (Not that I do that...okay, sometimes I do.) I can lose myself in new music and it doesn't hurt as much that I've been betrayed by another lover.

Not that I'm hurting, I don't think I cared enough about him to let him hurt me, but I am angry. I'm angry that I gave him the permission to treat me badly, that I sacrificed in some tiny way my self-respect in exchange for a good kisser who was a bad fuck, that I allowed him to call me a slut, tell his friends that I'm easy, and laugh at me behind my back. I let him behave towards me as though I am not even human and I gave him trust he didn't deserve. So I'm angry with myself and I'm angry with him. But now I have all this glorious music to dance to and to cry to and perhaps when a new lover comes along I'll have new music to make love to. I take pleasure in the simple things life has to offer me because in the end it's the simple things that you're left with. If you need me tonight I'll be dancing to The Wonder Years and trying to let go of all the heat of anger that built up inside me.

-The Dormouse

"Why, she is only a girl!" "That, is why we are her servants."

Because yes, I have sex. And yes, I do believe Planned Parenthood is important. There's so much more to it than just giving out free condoms and abortions (not for free of course, those cost a lot of money and aren't even covered by the government funding). Planned Parenthood is about providing America's youth, women, men, human beings, with information about STDs, free STD testing, information about pregnancy, prenatal care, free mammograms, and a whole bunch of other really important stuff. The recent attacks on Planned Parenthood are attacks on the idea that all people, including the underprivileged, the youth, women, etc., deserve to have access to information and health care. It's important that everyone know how important Planned Parenthood is and that we do all we can to try and save it. Get that message out there. Do whatever you can to save Planned Parenthood. Goddess knows they've saved my life more than a few times and if they haven't saved yours then you probably know someone whose they have.

-The Dormouse

All children, except one, grow up.

Lately I've been trying to figure out my life. What I want to do, where I want to go, all of that fun stuff. I've realized something in all this soul searching...I don't know what I want to do. I genuinely have no idea. But for once I'm not so afraid of that. I think I've found some people to live with and that's a huge lifesaving bit of information. But otherwise I think I'm feeling pretty content.

Life is feeling pretty great. It's not perfect, it's never going to be perfect, but I'm feeling a little less Some Kind of Wonderful and a little more 10 Things I Hate About You minus the sappy love story. I'm feeling a little bit less "Linger" and a little bit more "Fire Escape." At any rate I'm drowning myself in freedom and I feel sort of fabulous. You should come join me on this side of the pool. It's quite good here.

-The Dormouse

I'll never grow up!

Things are finally starting to go my way. I've been feeling like fire lately. Or electricity. I just want to consume. I want fuel for my fire and the people around me have been more than willing to provide. I want to share my sparks. Feel the heat from another body. Life is wonderful. Let's hope it lasts.

-The Dormouse

Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world...

I have come to the realisation that the most whimsical thing I own is my tweed jacket. "Really, Dormouse?" you might be saying to yourself, "A tweed jacket? Whimsical? That's impossible!" And generally you'd be right, for what is a tweed jacket but a marker of pretension? Who wears tweed jackets? Only hipsters and Literature professors. But my jacket has a rabbit tail. From the front I look respectable (and perhaps a big smallish as the jacket is too big) but as soon as I turn 'round there's a puffy little cottontail attached to the back. We tacked it on for Halloween and never quite had the heart to remove it.

When I teach at university I think I will attach animal tails to the backs of my professional jackets. My students would enjoy it. According to the King of the Hipsters the only way a tweed jacket suits me is with an animal tail attached to it. I approve.

-The Dormouse

Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough.

"I don't think I could ever date a conservative."
"I don't think you could either."
"Why not?"
"Because you're too free-spirited."
"I like that. Much better than too crazy."

The dialogue of my life would make for an excellent novel.
Incidentally, you made me smile. Just in case you were wondering.

-The Dormouse

But Peter, how do we get to Neverland?

So yesterday was Valentine's Day. First one I've spent alone since I was a wee bitty freshman in high school. Goddess, that seems so long ago. It was soon after that last lonely Valentine's Day when I met the first boy I would (regrettably) fall in love with. I stayed in love with him for a very long time. In fact there's probably still a tiny part of me that carries the torch for him. When I think about him now it's sort of like, "I don't want to be with you now but if we were really really old and had given up on love and just needed companionship I wouldn't hate it if we were together." After he stomped all over my heart there was a boy who was not so nice. And then there was H. Arthur. He and I spent three blissful years fighting, making love, and hating one another. We loved each other too but mostly I think it was hate. Whatever emotion we were expressing it was always passionate. I like that about what we had. Certainly I screwed around when he wasn't offering what I needed but we were comfortable and that's all that matters. And then there was the one I thought would be "The One." I wish he had been. It was a great three years and he was everything a perfect guy could be. Someday down the line I hope I get another one like him, when I can be ready for him and all the wonderful things he has to offer me. But right now I'm not ready to settle. I won't settle for a life upstate or sacrificing a little bit of my dreams so he can live his. I won't settle for someone who can't hold me the way I need to be held and touch me the way I need to be touched. And most importantly I won't settle for someone who can't understand me, all of me, and who doesn't make the effort to figure it out. Yeah, there is a lot of darkness but there's a lot of light too. And it's all me. If you're going to love me you have to love all of it, you can't pick and choose because that is so not how I work.

So I spent yesterday alone and it really didn't bother me. Maybe I didn't get any flowers or chocolates or sappy cards but that was okay. I got to attend an extra class and chat with a professor whom I greatly admire twice in one day. I got to laugh with my friends and watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and vent my frustrations about the elusive S. whom I am no longer certain I want. I got to be flirty and fun and happy. I didn't feel alone or sad or scared about my future. I found three apartments in Brooklyn that look good to rent. I nearly finished the novel I've been reading. I looked at pictures of John Keats and let my heart swell just a tiny bit for his brooding eyes. I think I'm going to be okay. That's the lesson I'm learning. I may have my down days but I don't think I'm going to be crushed. I'm having a good time and Goddess knows these moments are rare enough for me. So I'm not looking for a new relationship, for someone to spend the rest of my life with. I know eventually he (or she) will come along and when she (or he) does it will be magical. For now I'm happy just to spend the night with a guy who has magic fingers and a cute smile who might not remember my name in the morning. I think that's just fine, I know I won't remember his.

-The Dormouse

You know that place between sleeping and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming?

Something really beautiful is ending tomorrow. I'm going to be sad to see it go. But I've made up my mind and I can't keep hurting people left and right. I'm not happy. And I need to be. I need to be happy in order to survive. But it still hurts.

-The Dormouse

"Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

So today I want to talk about sex. See, a few days ago I read a novel about a girl. Now, a lot of bad shit happens in this girl's life that has no bearing on what bothered me so much about it. Mostly what I want to talk about is the fact that this character is fat. Just in case you momentarily forget it she reminds you over and over and over again. Not only is she fat but she's decided that this makes her unlovable. Not generally unlovable of course, she acknowledges that the people who surround her accept her, love her, etc. No, she's fat and this makes her unlovable in a sexual way. She's unfuckable. No one wants to look at a fat girl naked. She won't stop talking about how fat she is and how impossible this makes it for people to be attracted to her. And by the end of the novel this has not been resolved. She's been essentially proven right, no one has kissed her no one has had sex with her. People keep calling her pretty but she's pretty as compared to her cousin who has committed suicide. She has one encounter with a guy who is high and using her. She has no real fulfilling proof of her beauty (her own beauty not as compared to someone else) and she's still convinced that no one wants to fuck a fat girl.

I, for one, am fucking sick of this bullshit. As a fat girl I can tell you without blushing that yes, people do want to fuck fat girls. People fall in love with fat girls, people fall in lust with fat girls. I'm not ugly (although I do have ugly days) and I'm not unfuckable. Plenty of guys want to get with this. I'm not exaggerating in the least. And yes, I know I'm supposed to be ashamed of my body, I'm aware of what it looks like and what people see when they look at me. But here's the thing: when I want to get my groove on as it were there is no shortage of men and women who want to help me out with that. I've got curves and they're sexy curves. And that's the secret to it I think. No matter what your size you're only unfuckable if you tell yourself you are. This very theory has been proven throughout my own lifetime. When I used to feel ashamed about the way I looked people didn't look at me. I blended in like fat girls are "supposed to," I covered up, I starved myself to be pretty. And then one day it dawned on me...I am pretty. I'm really fucking pretty. And I traded in the big shirts and the baggy pants for skirts and low cut tops and jeans that actually fit my curves and I let people see me in my fat girl glory. And that's when it changed. People started asking me out, I had dates, I had boyfriends and girlfriends and little somethings on the side. I could pull men out of my pockets. I still can.

See, it's all in the attitude. Sure some people are still going to call you fat, ugly, whatever behind your back but most of them are going to think you're the most beautiful girl in the room because you carry yourself that way. And some of it's about dressing right but most of it's about you. You can wear anything as long as you're confident in it. And that's the real secret. Fat girls are sexy too. Everyone can be sexy...you just need to find that sexy place inside of you and let it shine. So let's stop all this fat girls are unfuckable bullshit already. No one's going to tell me I can't get what I want because I know I can. I know I'm pretty, I know I deserve to be satisfied. I don't have to take someone's sloppy seconds if I don't want them, I'm more than capable of getting things on my own. I'm comfortable with who I am and I'm here to tell all the ladies (and gentlemen) out there that you just have to love yourself. Once you do, I promise it all just comes to you. It really does.

-The Dormouse

Second star to the right and straight on til morning...

"Family, like arsenic, works best in small doses...unless you prefer to die." (Cohn and Levithan 2).

Work Cited:

Cohn, Rachel and David Levithan. Dash and Lily's Book of Dares. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010. Print.

Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of daily occurence...

I have been sitting in my room listening to "Just Like Heaven" on replay. It is such an amazing song. Go listen to it. It's just so beautiful. I dunno. I would like my life to be a series of song lyrics by The Cure played over and over. Is that weird? The desire to be a song by The Cure? If so too bad I guess. The resolution this year was to be honest and right now that's as honest as I can be. I offer you a sampling, in case you are unaware of who The Cure is and why they are amazing, of some lyrics by The Cure.

"You, soft and only. You, lost and lonely. You, just like heaven."
See, beautiful right? And just to round that out: "Dancing in the deepest ocean. Twisting in the water. You're just like a dream." I love it.

-The Dormouse

To die would be an awful big adventure...

I am drowning. I tried to let it all crash over me but instead I'm letting it drown me. A friend recently told me that I cannot trust people. If I put my faith in people I will always be disappointed, always be betrayed. And in some ways I think he's right because people are unreliable and sometimes they're not there when you need them. Sometimes they're busy, sometimes they don't care, sometimes they leave you, sometimes they die. But here's the thing...I'm not ready to give up yet, not entirely. I want to love the people around me, I want to have faith in them. Okay, I don't want to love all of them. In fact I'm pretty okay with disliking most of them. But the point is I'm not ready to give up on people. I'd thought perhaps I was but it turns out I'm not. I rather enjoy putting my faith in others. And yes it does hurt when I'm disappointed and yes I do get disappointed often. But the thing is, I'm still willing to hope that I won't get hurt.

Long ago I lost my Soldier. He was wonderful. His story isn't your business so you'll have to live with what I've offered. Anyway, he died and he left a giant Soldier shaped hole. For years I've tried to fill that hole with men who seem like him. Who make me smile the way he did, who listen like he did, who held me the way he did. Only here's the thing: they're not him and they never will be. They're not going to fit the hole and plug it up. And maybe I need to stop trying to plug it up. Because that makes it impossible for the guys I'm trying to replace him with. He was, for me, utter perfection and I don't know if realistically anyone can be that for me again. So I should stop trying. I need to stop trying. It's only painful for me and impossible for them.

Anyway, like I said...I'm drowning. And I need help. I really need help. I need someone to listen. I can't do this on my own. I'm praying I haven't pushed everyone away right when I need them.

-The Dormouse

And her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get...

I fear he will find me out. The King of the Hipsters I mean. And that will be ridiculous. I don't know how to explain my neuroses to him. But I suppose we'll cross that bridge if we come to it.

So, a new year and a new me. At least that's the theory. I am going out to get a new tattoo soon. It's going to be fun I think. It will quote Dylan Thomas, a beautiful poet who I have only recently rediscovered my love for. I will forever be thankful to the professor who took her class outside, sat us in the beautiful spring grass, and read Dylan Thomas' "Fern Hill" out loud. It was the perfect moment, the perfect introduction, and the beginning of a love affair with Thomas' poetry that will last until I die. Sometimes he slips my mind but always he is there with his beautiful words. I think I'm starting to sound like an insane person. But really, go read "Fern Hill" and then I dare you not to find it moving.

I'm still working on resolutions. I'll let you know if I ever come up with any good ones. So far I'm just resolving those things I said last time and also to tell the people I love that I love them. I was reminded recently how good it feels to be told that you are loved. I think we often feel like when you love someone it should just be implied. But it isn't. It's nice to hear it. So, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. And for some of you out there reading this...I really do mean it. I love you.

-The Dormouse