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