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