emo calling card
by Willow
I think all single people should have cards printed up with their phone numbers on one side, and their Issues listed on the other. When they meet a crush they can hand over their card and sidestep months of misunderstandings. Mine would say "Willow Wonder" on the front, and on the back:
1 Fear of Commitment
2 Only Child
3 Worrier
There could be fine print under each heading for qualifiers and clarifications. And maybe (to make this idea seem less emo) there could also be a Points of Pride list:
1 Good Communicator
2 Empathetic
3 Honest
We could avoid so much confusion and heartache! I could look at a card and see "Bad Communicator" on the back, and know I should stay away! Boom. And it wouldn't just be for relationships. New friends could benefit as well. How about knowing right off the bat that someone is "Always Late," or "Fair Weather?" You wouldn't necessarily avoid that person, you just wouldn't expect them to be on time or whatever. Or what about an emotional resume for job hunts? "Yells a Lot" would be good to know, or "Throws Away Stressful Projects," or simply "Prefers to Eat Lunch Alone."
What would your cards say, dear readers?
Posted on August 24, 2005 | Comments (25)
moving is the pits
by Willow
I am moving this week. I hate it so much! Putting all your stuff in boxes, and not all of it fits right, and you get frustrated and throw lots of stuff away that you immediately want when you're settled into your new place (hangers, old magazines, etc.) I hate the newsprint that gets all over my hands when I wrap my dishes in the New York Times, and I hate that my dishes will probably break anyway because that is Just My Luck. I hate packaging tape, I hate carrying boxes, I hate thinking about how I'm going to move my bed, I hate asking friends to help me. Bleh. I do love writing content lists on boxes with Sharpie though. The best so far is:
*1/2 coffee maker
*1/2 blender
*bulk popcorn
*kettle
*chandelier teapot
*green tapestry
*New Yorkers
Whatever fits, man.
I'm moving into a house with my friends Will and Lisa, and their twin 3 year old boys, Eban and Amedeo. It will be chaotic, but also nice to feel part of a family. Those boys are like my nephews- as an only child they are probably the closest I'll get. They used to call me Aunt Gorgeous, but they've (sadly) phased it out. Now they just call me Willow, but they are little, so it sounds like "Wiwwow" which is also really cute. They have a new kitten named Frank who they cannot stop chasing (depite many time-outs.) Yikes.
Posted on August 23, 2005 | Comments (4)
my friend and other stuff
by Willow
I spent the bulk of my weekend with my friend Rebecca. Yesterday we went to the (very trashy) Lloyd Center mall for some Back to School shopping at Old Navy and Forever 21. We ate in the food court. We talked about our mutual desire to be classier dressers. We shared a strawberry malt at the pseudo 1950's diner that lives in the food court but is sort of it's own place. I love Rebecca. She reminds me of my dearest girlfriends, Liz and Heather, from my hometown. She is really funny, she is trustworthy, she is honest, she is crafty. And she has that good-friend glow- that companionability that just puts you at ease and makes you feel glad.
Today we had a movie marathon. We watched Whale Rider and Ordinary People (we didn't get to To Be and To Have- it just got too late.) Shannon joined us for the second film, and we all ate popcorn and watermelon and Tofutti Cuties. Watching movies on a beautiful summer afternoon is such a guilty pleasure. You know you ought to be out hiking or swimming or something. But instead you tape blankets over the windows, shut the front door, and Get In The Zone. So satisfying.
Another pleasant part of my day was the suprise encounter with my coffee shop friend (/crush) at the Fresh Pot this morning. Actually, it wasn't a huge surprise. When I woke up this morning and thought about going out for tea I just felt a certainty that I would run into this man. We always have nice conversations when we run into each other, and today's was especially lengthy and deep. He recently started reading Perfect Heart, and we talked a lot about Meaning and Intention (I am a Capital Letters Queen today!) in the blogging expiriment. It was natural feeling and honest, to the point that I found myself furiously blushing on more than one occassion. It's funny that I can write about my emotional life ad nauseum here, knowing that strangers are reading and judging, but talking about my blog makes me self-conscious. Or maybe it was talking to someone that I don't know very well yet but like a lot about a part of my life that is so intimate (though public) that made me shy. In any case it was a treat to run into him, and I hope it happens again soon.
In the car I listened to the radio and heard the following songs (greatly adding to my wonderful day):
*Say it Ain't So by Weezer
*A great Nirvana song that never got a lot of airplay that I love, but unfortunately cannot remember right now because it was instantly eclipsed by the next song
*Here Comes Your Man by the Pixies
Could it get any better?
Posted on August 22, 2005 | Comments (6)
pay it fucking forward
by Willow
Okay. Check out this amazing optimism-affirming story:
When Moose was visiting me last month his car got broken into outside my house. It was his last night in town, and he was hoping to leave early the next morning. Instead he went to load the car and found a brick on the driver's seat, glass everywhere, and his big interior frame backpack filled with his winter clothes missing. Yes, it could have been worse. He'd been on the road for six weeks, and everything he owned was in the car- his computer, his music, everything. They just grabbed the first thing they saw and left the rest. But still. Luckily he had good insurance and only had to pay a hundred dollar deductible, and we got the window fixed that morning. Moose was a good sport about it. He said that he hoped whoever stole the pack needed some warm clothes. He kept the brick, brushed off the glass, and headed for the coast. It seemed like a short chapter in his epic cross-country adventure.
Then, two weeks ago, on the day I was leaving for Albequerque, I saw a handmade sign on a telephone pole near my house, "FOUND: Interior frame back pack near Freemont and Williams. Call..." I was elated! I called the number from my car, and talked to a really nice dude who had come across the pack in a semi-abandoned construction site nearby. I couldn't believe it. I asked him what drove him to try to seek the owner? Why not keep it? He said that he'd had a lot of stuff stolen himself, and just wanted to help someone out. He asked me to describe the backpack, which of course I couldn't- I'd never actually seen the thing. I described some of Moose's clothes (that I remembered from our chilly summer nights together in the Rockies), but none of them were in the pack. He said that it was almost empty- just a sweater left, really. This made me sad. Moose's favorite flannel shirt, which I always associate with him should have been in there, along with tons of other clothes. But at least the backpack was intact. I told him I'd call Moose and then call him back. Then I flew to New Mexico.
I left Moose an excited message, and he called me back with a description. But I am Willow. And part of being Willow means losing track of important information. By the time I got back to Portland I had lost the good samaritan's phone number. And of course the sign was gone. Fuck.
Still on the case, I made a sign of my own: "You found my friend's interior frame backpack. I lost your number. PLEASE call me..." I taped it to the same pole the samaritan's sign had hung. The next day my little sign was tattered and falling down. I got a hammer and nails and put it up again, saying a little prayer that it would be found. A week and a half went by. Nothing. I went to Denver and called Moose to tell him the bad news. I decided to print out my cell phone records to try to find the number- I planned on calling every unfamilliar Portland number I saw. I felt so bad about flaking on my dear Moosey friend. How could I let the pack slip through my hands?
Then, tonight, just after I walked in the door from Denver, my phone rang. "Hi, this is Coby, I found a backpack a few weeks ago..." !!!!!! Yay! And not only that, but he'd been back to the site a few more times and found a bunch of Moose's clothes stashed under a porch and scattered in a field. Was the favorite plaid shirt in the mix? You bet. Coby's girlfriend Claire had seen my little sign, pulled it off the pole, and brought it home. It turns out they live on my block, just a couple houses down. I called Moose to tell him the good news, went to Chevron to buy some beer, and walked over to their house to retrieve the treasure.
Coby and Claire are amazing. They keep chickens in their backyard. They gave me six fresh eggs. I gave them the six pack, and we all had a beer together. Claire has beautiful Art Neuvoe (sp?) tattoos on her arms. Coby has a blond ponytail. They both seem like they might have been goths when they were younger, but aren't anymore. I told them that they had earned some really great karma wit this whole thing. I mean, they were so persistant about finding the owners. They deserve some love from the Universe, you know? Coby replied that he didn't believe in karma. There was too much suffering in the world, too much injustice. He said that yeah, what you get comes back to you, but only because people hear about it and you get a reputation- for better or worse. Claire and I disagreed, but the topic soon turned to more worldly things. Coby and Claire are excellent scavengers. Their sweet house is filled with furniture and art found in dumpsters or thrift shops. We all sat on the floor and looked at crystals that Coby had retrieved from broken chandelliers. He was planning on stringing all of them (there must have been over a hundred) from the windows to fill the room with rainbows in the morning light.
And then that was it. I told Coby that I thought his act was even nobler because he didn't believe it karma. He wasn't looking for recognition or compensation from the Universe. He was just doing something nice for a stranger. I put the pack on my back and walked the half-block home. Next week I'll take it to the post office and mail it to Granby, Colorado.
It's funny. In a couple of weeks Coby and Claire will probably stop thinking about the backpack. They'll have told the story a few times, discussed the weird bubbly earnest girl who came to their house to collect it. Whatever warm feeling they have from their good deed will probably fade after a while. But Moose and I will tell this story forever. To us it will become legend- part of our shared history, part of his American cross country epic, part of my struggle (especially in this time) to believe in the Goodness. For a faltering optimist, this little story is a fucking beacon. Gives a girl some hope, you know? Me and Moose and Kevin Spacey, now. Paying it forward.
Posted on August 20, 2005 | Comments (6)
smug, anyone?
by Willow
Dudes, I just reread my entry from last night, and I feel like I didn't accurately represent my feelings. I am intrinsically an optomist, and I really do believe that things are going to be okay for me soon. But goddamn, it hurts real bad right now! I think my entry yesterday was all smug and "I'm so at peace with the universe." It's just not as tidy as that. I am hopeful and relieved, and disappointed and sad. Also sheepish, embarassed, resigned, and in-tact. Got any other adjectives? Fill them in here. I think writing about Jake makes me feel so vulnerable that I gloss over my actual feelings, which is antithetical to my Perfect Heart mission. So, uh, sorry.
A word about mean commenters. Some cyberfriends have assumed that I know these dudes, and they are giving me some weird tough love or something. Not the case. My feeling is that the meanness stems from one commenter, using pseudonyms and fake email addresses. It could be a stranger, but the paranoid lady in me thinks it's probably some scorned-lover from my past just being an anonymous jerk. In my younger days I hurt some feelings (thus the heartbreak karma), and there are a few men out there who hate my guts. Anyway, just so you know.
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I feel the need to insert a funny story here. My last few entries have been sorta dark, so hmm... let's see...
Oh, okay! Here is a classic Willow Makes An Ass Of Herself story. A couple of nights ago I went for beers with my high school friends Kelly and Marissa. (I fucking love those ladies, by the way.) I noticed that this business-y looking dude in a light blue button up shirt and drinking a bottle of Bud kept staring at us. I figured it was because we were such a handsome trio, right? I never looked him fully in the face because to me the shirt said it all. So many lawyers and Wall Street dudes I knew in NYC dressed like that, and they were super sleazy. Plus Budweiser? Puh-lease. (Okay, I actually drink Bud myself, but you get the idea.) So finally Blue Shirt man comes over to us, and says my name. Marissa says I gave him this intense death look before I realized that it was our old friend Zack from Open School! Zack who smoked a lot of pot and drank coffee with me at Village Inn for hours and hours on end and made me laugh like no other. Whoops! Shit. Of course I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Once I'd hugged him I went into this lengthy expanation of why I hadn't recognized him- the shirt, the Bud. "If you'd been in a green striped tee shirt and skater pants I would have spotted you in a second!" I told him about the Wall Street sleazes and how he looked just like them. Then I felt bad, because I'd basically just insulted him, and apologized profusely. He and his friend joined us, and it was great to catch up (Zack is a lobbiest now!), but I still couldn't stop with the shirt stuff! Even when I hugged him goodbye I felt compelled to explain that "I don't think YOU are a sleaze! Just people who dress like you! No, wait! That's not what I mean! Shoot! I'm sorry! You look great! Ugh!" SO awkward. Hopefully he'll think I was just drunk.
Posted on August 18, 2005 | Comments (9)
heartbreak karma
by Willow
I know that in the last few weeks I've been alluding to "crazy developments" in my romantic life. Many things barred me from blogging about it directly: my relationship with AJ (not wanting him to read things on Perfect Heart before I had the chance to tell him in person), pride (embarassed that I was still vulnerable and attached to my old relationship), and finally not wanting to jinx a reconciliation. You are probably going "huh?" right about now. Let me explain. My ex, Jake, and I have been earnestly trying to be friends since his visit here a couple months ago. It's hard. Old feelings get stirred up- fond feelings, hurt feelings, hopeful feelings. The cummulative effect was that Jake decided to come visit me in Portland to determine what his feelings truly were, and to decide if he should move up here to be with me. Oh shit, right? Deep in my heart I knew I still loved him, but the aforementioned factors (boyfriend, pride, jinxes) made me build a wall. I tried not to think about his visit at all, tried not to get my hopes up or lose any of the ground I'd gained since the break up. Frankly I didn't trust him. He hadn't decided that he loved me and had made a terrible mistake, and was coming to Portland to win me back. He didn't know how he felt about me, and was hoping that a trip to Portland might help him figure it out. Not terribly promising.
So anyway, he was supposed to be in Portland when I returned from Denver this weekend. But today I got an email saying that he wasn't coming after all. He doesn't need to see me to find out how he feels he knows. He doesn't love me anymore. He respects me and cares for me and wants to be friends, but the our relationship is over. I just got off the phone with him (he called as I was writing this), and I feel okay. My hopes had gotten higher than I realized, and it was disappointing to not see them realized. But we had a great talk, and I know that it will be okay. He finally let go, and soon I will be able to too. We were young and we loved each other and we learned so much together, but in the end our destinys lie with other people. This is the first time I've actually acknowledged that. I think we'll always be close. I hope so.
So that's the update. I feel bad that I didn't really address any of this in Perfect Heart until now. That sort of goes against my ideal of transparency in personal blogs. But too many people's feelings were involved, and I didn't want to unintentionally hurt anyone by purging my feelings in a public forum. I feel really insecure, even now, posting this. Really vulnerable. (Especially since I've been getting weird mean comments from strangers lately.) But my goal is to write about my life and myself honestly, even if it makes me look like a flake or a jerk.
I feel closure, finally. Ta da.
Posted on August 17, 2005 | Comments (3)
Mountain Girl
by Willow
So here I am in Denver. My mom schedules many appointments for me when I come home to visit. So far I have been to the chiropractor, the naturopath, and the salon. My hair is more Miranda July than ever, my friends. Mom and I have also been to five shoe stores looking for some sensible/comfortable/cute Dansko shoes for me for Fall. I know exactly what I'm looking for, and they have them in Portland, but the dumb Denver stores are dumb and don't carry them. Mom will buy them for me if we find them here, but in Portland I'm on my own. Weird unwritten mom-shopping rules. Oh well.
Last night I went to the Fortress of Awesome, aka my friend Mitch's house in the Five Points neighborhood. A lot of people had gathered there to settle an argument between Sam and Perry. Sam thinks that Earl Grey tea smells like Froot Loops, and that Earl Grey milkshakes (made at a local coffee house) taste like Froot Loops. So we all acted as judges as Sam whipped up Earl Grey shakes and Froot Loops shakes. I didn't get to taste the Earl Grey shake, but boy, the Froot Loops one sure tasted like Froot Loops.
This is the sort of activity my Denver friends invent on a Monday night. I love them. They are so creative and energetic, to the point that sometimes when I hang out with them I feel really old. They have prank wars and play Thundersneak, throw elaborately themed parties and do scavenger hunts. I uh, go out to breakfast sometimes. And sometimes I go to shows. Ooh! Sometimes I sing karaoke... sigh. Pretty boring in comparison.
I always feel slightly guilt when I'm in Denver, like I've never been completely forgiven for moving away, and no matter how long my visit lasts, it's always too short. I love Denver, and I love my friends here, but I just don't want to live here again. The urban sprawl is too depressing for me, the number of SUV's per capita too high, the constant urban renewal too taxing. Year to year my hometown gets glossier, but it's ultimate character chips away. Denver is a cowboy town come stipmall and it makes me sad. Of course there is an argument that Denver is experiencing a youth/underground renaissance, and I definitely see traces of it when I come back. There are some cool new bars (and to be fair my favorite old ones are still going strong.) The art/music scene is pretty vibrant, thanks in a large part to my friend Sam's awesome theater company, Buntport. Buntport is a real hub of creative activity. If I ever did move back here the first thing I would do would be audition for one of their amazing, innovative plays. (And I'm not just saying all this because I found out last night that Sam reads my blog, I promise. Hi Sam!)
Tonight I'm going to a Colorado Rockies game (if it stops raining). I want to get up to my old camp for a visit, go to the Natural History Museum, see my dad one more time, and catch up with a dozen or so friends. I can't believe I only have three days left!
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Before I sign off, I want to say a few words about Silver Plume, the town where my dad lives. Population: 200. Elevation: 9000 ft. I spent the weekend there, and got caught up on all the local news:
*A black bear has been cruising the town at night, knocking over fences and eating trash.
*A landslide covered the highway, making travel to and from Denver nearly impossible (as my Dad and I found out the hard way on Sunday.)
*Troy and Cass just had their 5th wedding anniversary.
*The Registers are at the lake.
*Some of the aspen leaves are already turning yellow up by Pavillion Point.
*The Silver Plume Irish Fest (organized my my dad) was a complete success last month.
*Grumpy's Roadhouse, despite the recent death of its namesake, will remain open until the Register's get tired of running it.
*Donnie, my dad's drunk neighbor, has been shooting off his shotgun a little too often lately. (Here is a good Donnie/shotgun story: Last week a guy Donnie works with brought him a dozen homemade sweetrolls. This guy is recently on the wagon. Donnie told my dad, "that sober asshole and his fucking sticky buns! They tasted like shit." Later my dad heard some shotgun blasts. He went out and found another friend of Donnie's dropping the buns one by one off of the bridge. Donnie, who was positioned a little ways down the creek was blasting them as they floated by.)
Posted on August 16, 2005 | Comments (6)
Albequerque Volume II
by Willow
God, I'm behind on my updates. I'm in Denver now, visiting my family and old school friends, and I have a bunch of weird stories already. But I want to wrap up the wedding stuff before I get to Denver stuff. (Note: due to continuing iphoto frustrations, I will be unable to include photos in this entry. Sorry! I'll post some when I get back to Portland.)
When I signed off last week, I had just finished an amazing burrito at Frontier. Let me re-emphasize how effing good that burrito was. So. Effing. Good. Mmmmm..... Anyway. After lunch I went to the Hacienda where the wedding was going to take place. I had been assinged a vague job by John Shoe, the groom, that required me to be there a few hours early. At first I thought it was a B-list guest job. I was supposed to follow the photographer around and make sure she got all the shots they wanted- including lots of "candid" shots. When John first sent me the email asking me to do this job, I thought he meant for me to follow her around the reception, which would have been no fun. Did he not want an A-list friend to have to miss the dancing and eating? Is that why he picked me? Also, he kept emphasizing that I am such a good "shmoozer," which isn't really a compliment in my book.
So I get to the hacienca, and immediately realize that I am definitely not a B-lister. Everyone in both John and Aubrey's families seem to know who I am as soon as I walk in. They keep coming up and thanking me for helping, and telling me how special I am to John and Aubrey, and how touched they all are that I flew all the way from Portland for the wedding. I open the program for the wedding, and see my name in the "Thank you to.." section. Wow. I am honored and embarassed that I didn't get it at first.
There was still a good hour before photos, so I hung out in the bridal suite with John and the groomsmen. I straightened collars and pinned on butineers. John was endearingly nervous, so the ushers and I made little jokes and ran needless errands to put him more at ease. It was so special to be in that room. The men drank scotch and I drank Pepsi, and there was so much love all around.
Then the photographer arrived, and I held the bouquet and a list of family and friends that were to be included in the photos. I made sure that the photographer (who looked and talked exactly like Natasha Lyon) got every shot, even though she was a pro and didn't really need me. But by then I knew that my job was really just to be there with love and support. See, John is like a brother to me. We went to high school together, and he once (metaphorically) saved my life. I have spent the six or seven years since then trying to make it up to him. His brother Galen is also like my brother, and his mom is very dear to me as well. It felt so good to be there.
After photos the guests arrived, and the ceremony began. It was short and beautiful. John and Aubrey wrote their own vows, and the power and sincerity of their words was stirring. Just as they were pronounced husband and wife, a great gust of wind swept through the hacienda, swirling around them and us, the witnesses. It was like the Universe blessing their union. Everyone commented on it afterwards.
The reception was in a different courtyard in the hacienda. We ate enchiladas and tamales and drank lots o' wine. I sat with my dearest Denver friends. We told lots of G-rated animal jokes (my favorites!) and waxed nostalgic about the old days. When it was toast time I was warmly tipsy, and thus spontaniously inspired to make a toast of my own. (There were a handful of other random toasters- I wasn't being totally weird.) Anyway, I got up and in my goofy I-get-embarassed-talking-to-a-big-group-of-grown-ups way, I spoke about John and my sisterly protectiveness. I recalled the tone of his voice when he first described Aubrey to me, the way he recorded every moment of one Christmas visit into a dictaphone to send to her in England, so she could share the good times. And I described meeting her for the first time, and Joey's wedding a couple years ago. I saw how she looked after John, how they loved each other. I pulled him aside that night and told him he would be next. Then I addressed Aubrey, thanking her for being such a good partner to John, giving her my blessing, and entrusting to her the job of protecting my dear friend's heart. Without reservation, and with all my love I blessed their union, and when I raised my glass everyone was crying! I was psyched. Apparently three glasses of white wine turns Willow into a toast master! I'll have to remember that for Liz's wedding next month!
After food there was dancing. Two great bands played (I cannot remember their names- thanks a lot, wine!) There was a swimming pool between the bands and the dance floor, and as the night wore on, more and more people ended up in the pool. Some of us had brought our suits, some swam in their undies. John and Aubrey joined us once all the relatives had retired, and we all floated and paddled under the stars.
So that's about it. A few leftover bits:
~Somewhere between dancing and swimming I vomited in the toilet of the bridal suite. Gross, I know. But there was no mess, I swear!
~Sometime after the wedding, back at HoJo's I ended up kissing an old crush in a stairwell. Weddings make you do crazy things!
~Somehow between swimming and heading back to HoJo's I realized I had left my purse in the Bridal Suite, where the bride and groom were presumably consummating their marriage. The helpful Maid of Honor banged on their door a few times, but they didn't answer. The next morning they claimed not to have heard! (They did notice my purse later and put it in a common area for me in case I came back for it. So nice. So embarassing.)
I love weddings, I love John and Aubrey, I love New Mexican food. The end.
Posted on August 15, 2005 | Comments (2)
albequerque, volume I
by Willow
Ok. I really want to write about the wedding, because it was wonderful. But I need to give some updates/details first:
~I went to the computer store yesterday. My iphoto library is indeed lost. I could pay them $45 to do a disk rescue, but the chances of finding them are slim. Any input, apple friends?
~AJ called me just after I posted last night, and it was way less emo. I feel very fortunate.
~I am spending the week doing elementary school math in the mornings, and elementary PE and Health in the afternoons. Yes, I played tag today. Yes, I used pattern blocks and tanagrams. Yes I examined the "abstinance only" benchmarks for sexual education that our good friend George W initiated. Grad school is fun.
Okay. The wedding. On Thursday evening I flew to Denver. Friday morning my mom and I did a power shoe shop at Ross and DSW before meeting up with my dear dear friend Heather and her mom, Betsy. Heather had flown in from Massachusettes a few days before. I love her. After a quick moms and daughters visit, my mom went home, and Heather, Betsy and I grabbed some Bowie, Springsteen, Joni, and Leonard Coen, and hit the road for New Mexico. The drive was beautiful. Southern Colorado/Northern New Mexico may be my favorite landscape in America. The colors are so rich, and the mountains and mesas make an incredible frame for the sagey, earthy, high desert plains. Pueblo, Colorado: rad. Trinidad, Colorado (aka the sex change capitol of the world): rad. Raton, Las Vegas, and Santa Fe, New Mexico: rad. Albequerque: sorta weird. I'll get to that later.
We stopped in Santa Fe for dinner. Our friend Joey met us for dinner at his favorite new Mexican restaurant. I had one enchilada and one tosdada, both with amazing red chile. One of the many great things about Northern New Mexican food is that they generally prepare both green and red chile vegetarian, and cook their beans without pork fat. For a lifetime vegetarian who loves Mexican food, this equals heaven.
After dinner we headed for Albequerque with happy bellies. All of the guests booked rooms at the Howard Johnson's, which reminded me of my grandparents in a good way. We ran into some high school friends in the parking lot, and Heather and I went to their room for a few hours of nostalgia and catchup. Galen, Micah, Brion and Alli are really fun. I only get to see them at Christmas these days, so a night spent holed up and the HoJo's felt fucking great. I made Galen tell the Funniest Story Ever (which I make him tell every time I see him even though I know it by heart) about the time he and Andre dumped a cooler full of soda over Eddie's head. I almost peed my pants.
The next day we went to Target to buy wrapping paper and ended up trying on all kinds of cute clothes that I did not see at a recent visit to the Portland Target. I bought some awesome warm up pants. Then we met up with more friends at Frontier restaurant near UNM.
I cannot emphasize enough how wonderful this restaurant is. This is my burrito, filled with beans, cheese and green chili, smothered with red chili:
It was the best burrito I have ever eaten. In my life.
That's about as far as I can get today. I'll write more about the actual wedding tomorrow. Phew. I'm hungry now!
Posted on August 9, 2005 | Comments (8)
I'm a jerk
by Willow
So, I had an amazing time at John and Aubrey's wedding, and I want to share all of the details. In fact, I thought that this post would be a full-on wedding recap. But then tonight was really awful, and I think it would dishonor the beauty of their ritual if I wrote about it in this frame of mind.
Tonight all of my feelings of spinning out of control and being crazy came to a head with AJ, and I really hurt his feelings. I'm a jerk. I knew all along that I wasn't ready to be in a relationship, but I liked AJ so much that I sort of jumped in anyway. I had a lot of fun with him and really enjoyed being with him. But still, with school pressures and the reverberations from my recent break-up still in the air I ended up feeling guilty and unfair all the time. There have been a couple of recent developments in the ex-boyfriend category that I'm too tired to get into right now. But the point is AJ is warm and trusting and he deserves a girl who can be fully present. And despite my best efforts to be that girl, I just can't do it right now. I feel so mean.
Posted on August 8, 2005 | Comments (8)
iPhoto sadness
by Willow
Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Willow's iPhoto library. Last night Willow innocently opened her iPhoto account to show David and Emily pictures of her three year old twin future-roomates, only to find that her photos had disappeared. Despite attempts by Willow and guests to find the missing pictures, they remained elusive. Further investigation today by UrbanHonking techno-dudes has proved fruitless. We have no choice but to assume the worst. The photos are gone forever.
What precious memories have been lost? Well, all of the precious memories captured from February to the present. This includes the LA trip wherin Jake gifted the camera to Willow, who dutifully documented every detail of the vacation. Also birthday shots, neighborhood shots, brunch party photos, and Anacortes jams, to name just a few popular favorites. We shall all deeply mourn the passing of Willow's iPhoto library for generations to come.
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Okay, so I parodied the situation a little, but honestly, I am really sad. I would have sacrificed any other program on my computer- iChat, iTunes, iMovie- if only I could keep but half of my iPhotos. Sigh. I will make a couple more CPR moves to see if I can bring those babies home, but I'm afraid it's a lost cause. Why did this happen? What is the meaning?
Today I hiked all day long in Forest Park. It was wonderful. I am taking a Field Science class this week, and we basically did seven potential elementary school field trips in one day today. We went to the Audobon Society, Pittock Mansion, the Arboridum, etc., etc. It was the most exercise I've gotten since school started. By the end I felt sweaty and great. All of us did. Two of my colleagues and I went for gelado afterwards, and it was divine. I had a scoop of blueberry gelado, and a scoop of key lime sorbet. So so so refreshing.
One thing I forgot to mention about rollerskating: When we first arrived at the rink on Sunday, an old lady in a sparkly Skate Dancing ensemble had just wiped out. I mean, she ate shit. She hit her face on the floor, I think. There was a crowd of senior skate-dancers circled around her, trying to assess the damage. One old man was sort of yelling at her. I don't really understand why. Anyway, you could tell she was a real seasoned Skate Dancer, and she felt really embarrassed. I saw her wipe away tears. But later she was back on the rink in civilian clothes, and I admired her committment. What a gal.
Sorry my spelling was so awful tonight. I am a tiny bit drunk, thanks to Steve and his CD assembly line party. Fun times!
Posted on August 3, 2005 | Comments (7)
concertina
by Willow
This weekend I went to a junk shop with Rebecca and her friends Travis and Jesse Jackson(!). There was, on a shelf, the most beautiful black concertina with red detailing. For those of you who don't know, a concertina is a small instrument in the accordian family. A squeezebox, if you will. I have wanted to learn how to play for oh, I don't know, ten years or so. Ever since my dad and I went to Ireland together when I was in high school and heard the rich and mournful sounds that drifted from the trad pubs in County Cork. There was a time when my dad checked out the pawn shops and thrift stores in his travels, hoping to find one for me for a birthday or Christmas. After a few years he gave up, and we both sort of forgot. But then on Saturday it all came back to me.
I took the little concertina off the dusty shelf and held it in my hands. It was so light! I tried to play it, and it was remarkably easy. The man behind the counter came around and showed me how to play a very simple melody- mmm bum bum, mmm bum bum, and I could do it! Granted my rhythm was crap, but I'm sure I could get better, right? I was in love. I am still in love. I think about the black box all the time. It cost $300. I do not have $300. It makes no sense for me to buy an instrument that Ido not know how to play for $300. My rent is $350, for heaven's sake! But... I love it. I think that, unlike my two neglected guitars, I would actually learn how to play it. It feels really natural in my hands. When I move in with Will and Lisa, we could start a wonderful house band! Lisa on harp, Willow on concertina, Will on drums. AJ might get in on the action too with some keyboards. Can you think of a cuter band? I can not.
What should I do, dear readers? Should I spend money I don't have (oh holy credit card), or just let it go, and buy one someday when I actually have a job? Or should I simply live in Indecision Land until someone else buys it? Should I try to haggle with the shop guy? If so, what is a good price for a concertina? Help!
Posted on August 2, 2005 | Comments (3)
cyber friends
by Willow
This last week or so has been the Age of the Internet Friend for me. James and Sonny, my Ultimate Blogger friends, have suddenly become more available on iChat. It's been really nice to "talk" with them. James is back in Michigan, working on his website and moving in with buddies. Sonny is finally (thankfully) back from Afghanistan, where he was serving with the Army (Reserves?) for last two years. I have been unreasonably worried about Sonny since I started reading his blog. Even though I've never met him in person, and really I only know him through his blog and the comments he leaves on other blogs I read, I am still quite fond of him. He is the first person I have ever known that has been in a war (well, of my generation anyway). That kind of service and patriotism is amazing to me, and I respect him an awful lot. I am so relieved that he is safely back. We iChatted a few days ago and it was really nice.
Speaking of internet friends, David Galli is my newest internet friend. We have a really nice email correspondence going on, even though we live less than a mile apart. I have been a fan of his blog for a while now, so it's sort of a thrill to be his pen pal. Also our characters (I can't think of a better word here, though I'm sure there is one. Natures? Personalities?) are eerily similar. It's really neat that we've become sort of close friends through the internet. People always talk about technology like it drives a wedge between human beings, or excuses us from being social creatures. I've found cyber-life to be just the opposite. I feel closer to my old friends, like Liz and Lucy, and have made a few new friends, thanks to the ol' Intranets. In fact, with my crazy college life going full-throttle, email, iChats and blogs are the only things that keep me from slipping off the radar entirely.
Anyway. In my "real" life, things have calmed down quite a bit. My homeworkless weekend was amazing. AJ and I spent a lot of nice time together. We swam in a river, roller-skated, and filmed a little movie. Oh, and we also went to Target, smoked pot, and saw Wedding Crashers (which was really funny in spite of some pretty offensive homophobic humor.) Oh, and we ALSO played pool and pinball and went out for pizza. It's weird, ever since we decided to not be boyfriend/girlfriend, we have been acting more relationshippy. In a good way. I think the pressure of the title was really getting to me, especially coming out of such a long relationship relatively recently. Anyway, this "dating" thing seems to be working alright, so I'm going to quit analyzing it in case the magic wears off!
I'll be better at updates this week since I have NO HOMEWORK ALL WEEK!! It's amazing.
Posted on August 1, 2005 | Comments (2)