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