And I told you to be patient

There is a very distinct possibility that I'm going to let him break my heart. I just thought I should let everyone know that.

Home Is Wherever I'm With You

Do you ever hear a song and think it's about one person but then it turns out it's about someone else entirely? Isn't it always a little bit funny when that happens?

So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear...

"I just wanted to say how much I miss you. For the sex stuff, sure, but also I'd just like to see you again as well."

And that's moment where it occurs to you that maybe the label isn't as important as you'd been thinking it was. Because he misses you and he just wants to see you again and he misses the sound of your voice. And you don't have to be afraid that he doesn't miss your company, your friendship, your smile, just your vag and his ability to have sex with it. Because he misses you. Maybe he misses you as much as you miss him...

Hey Thanks

Dear Dormouse,

Can we please agree to stop making fucking stupid decisions? Or at least stop making stupid decisions about fucking? No? Well, I fucking tried...

Love always,

Your brain

PS: Your heart might think it's doing the right thing but it's a fucking idiot. Just sayin...

Make you feel my love

How am I always getting myself into these ridiculous situations? Do I live on a sitcom? Like, am I a real person or is someone providing a fucked up script for my life? Well, I wish there was a script. Then I could skip ahead and see if things would turn out okay. But right now I'm kind of on cloud 9. Your dear sweet Dormouse might finally be figuring out how happiness works. Isn't that surprising?

And the lie, you don't need anyone

Some nights I do this really self indulgent thing where I sit in my room and I turn off all the lights and I listen to this one song on repeat. See, I have this friend who writes these beautiful songs and maybe a year ago he wrote one for me. It's lovely and sad and full of references to one of my favorite novels of all time. And so sometimes when I'm feeling kinda down I play the song over and over and over in this nauseating act of reminding myself that at some point in my life I inspired someone to write me a song. And even if it's a sad song that's still one more song than most people I know have had written for them...

It's always something

So the hearing in my right ear is a little fuzzy, my entire back feels like one huge bruise, and lifting my right arm above my head requires a herculean effort. BUT! It was totally worth it. I went to see Cage the Elephant and it was fucking amazing. I danced and screamed and waved my arms around and thrashed and got picked up and tossed a couple times too. It was one of the top five nights of my whole life. And I almost didn't go because I didn't have a friend to go with. So here's what I have to say to you my dear readers: That concert you want to go to? That lecture you've been waiting for? That...whatever other super important thing you're super excited about? Stop dreaming about it. Stop sitting and trying to come up with reasons why you should and shouldn't go. Just buy the fucking tickets. You'll find a way to get there. This shit works out. If you've got the cash and you've got the desire just fucking do it. You'll find a way to make it work. Don't miss out on fantastic fucking opportunities because you're afraid to go alone or you're not sure you can find a ride or you're just not entirely sure it's worth it. Trust me, if you dig this band or this speaker or this whoeverthefucktheyare it's totally worth it.

If I can see Bon Iver by May then I will have seen the three out of six of my top bands of all time who it is still possible to see within one six month period. Who wants to help me make it happen?

You hit me just like heroin...

Sometimes we do stupid things. Humans I mean. We do things like fall for the wrong people. Care about people who barely care about themselves and can therefore hardly find it in them to care about others. And we care about them even when they disappoint us and frustrate us and worry us. We care about them even when we know they're so sad and broken and barely anything but a fiction. And even knowing all this we let them break our hearts again and again and again.

Dear readers, please forgive your sweet Dormouse for being so shallow and susceptible to flights of fancy. A dear friend of mine has been in a dark place (admittedly not darker than usual but for some reason it is getting to me more) and I'm worried for him. I wouldn't like to be so presumptuous as to attempt to cheer him up, I know how terribly I hate it when other people attempt to make me happy when I'm barely capable of picking myself up off the floor. However, I love him and I want wholeheartedly for him to be okay.

"Be okay." What the fuck does that even mean? Be happy? Be...normal? Behave in the societally appropriate manner? Most days I can barely fucking understand how to feel okay. How could I presume to ask someone else I love to feel in a way I don't even know how to feel? And of course I worry about my growing dependence on his morbid sensibilities. Today he spoke to me of a love of a certain drug and the way he purred about it was so enticing. I could feel myself back there in my dark room, my friend's hands on my arm, injecting liquid joy directly into my veins. I could be happy listening to him tell me about using it, making me crave it, until it drove me to insanity. Until all I would want is to beg him to kiss it into every inch of my skin. This is dangerous. I absolutely cannot allow him to drive me to distraction in this way. But his words are...so lovely. It hurt my throat to tell him to stop. The words had to be ripped from me. All I wanted was for him to go on and on and on. Problematic relationship much? Oh well. He's really a lovely gentleman when you let him be. As long as you don't mind the touch of the morbid.

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