Every man in Las Vegas loves me!
by Willow
Ever since I left for Las Vegas, men have been VERY nice to me. Like the man on the airplane who let me disembark in front of him saying, "This way I get to walk behind you! To uh, bug.. you.." Then he punched my back a few times. Later when I met up with Mike and Steve at the LAS airport and hopped in a cab for the sweet Mandalay Bay hotel, I noticed that every time I looked up the driver was making weird googly eyes at me in the rearview mirror. Literally every time I looked up. Did he not have to drive the car?! Even Carrot Top did right by me, smearing his greasy cologned grease all over my hand to the delight of my starstruck BF.
The ladies were not as nice. While Mike and Steve enjoyed the oxygen bar, I positioned myself less than 10 feet from those snooty timeshare broads, who WOULD NOT give me the time of day. Where's my 2 for 1 coupon for Nathan's hotdogs? Huh? Where my 10% off spa treatment? Nowhere, that's where. Okay, that's a lie. After about 12 minutes of being ignored I approached the least snooty lady and innocently asked about timeshares. She gave me some coupons. Score!
We wrapped up a sweet night of arcades, drinking, sports betting and food courts with a trip to the New Orleans hotel and casino. It's off the strip. "The Nice Merrill" Curt bought me a Pepsi. Then Mike, Curt and I played roulette. The dealer was Armanian, and at first he seemed gruff, but once I started winning big he warmed up. That's right. I won a cool 40 smackers playing the numbers. Then he was all kinds of cute and coy, pretending to take my chips, announcing that I'd won again, even when I hadn't. At one point he accidently forgot to pay out one of my wins, and I said, "I'm sorry! But I won on Odds here." And he said, "You must speak up! I am the sorry one!" I tipped him $5 and took $35. You gotta know when to walk away, right? Right. Guess who's buying breakfast today? Me.
The only men who aren't being bend-over-backwards nice to me are my own lousy friends, Mike and Steve. No, that's a lie too. Second lie of this post. Mike and Steve are prefect angels. As I type this, I also sip the coffee that those fellas brought me from the lobby. Mike doctored it just right. The moral is, if you want to be treated like gold by gross guys (and also nice guys) come to Las Vegas!
See you by the sluts, I mean slots!
Posted on March 29, 2006 | Comments (5)
the need for speed
by Willow
(It sounded better than "the need to blog")
So, yeah. It turns out that I can't really take a sabbatical from blogging after all. As soon as I announced my plan to do so, I started getting this immense backlog of ideas for entries just piling up in my mind, and my knees started buckling under the weight! Which is to say I love Perfect Heart, and I don't want to let it die. The nice feedback I got from my last entry in the comments (plus email conversations with nice readers, and actual conversations with nice friends) has sort of re-grounded me. Rebecca likened my blog to a comic strip- story lines and characters fade in and out, and sometimes I hit a good stride, and sometimes I falter, but the concept is a good one. I think I had just inflated my critics to this monster size, and assumed that every single reader was just rolling their eyes whenever my name popped up on the UrHo front page. "Oh god, here comes Willow with her non-ironic, saccharin nonsense again. What a jerk."
Talking with Mike I realize that there are ways to make my blog better without sacrificing my basic mission. Especially now that school has calmed down a bit, I can spend more time on entries and really flesh them out with details and pictures and stuff. I'm also going to tone down the stories about my students, because they sometimes become just filler entries. And there are topics that I have been avoiding lately that I need to address to really give a full picture of where I am right now. In other words, even though my boyfriend is the mayor of blogtown I am still going to write about how tough it is to manage our time together when we are both real busy and stuff. And sometimes I shy away from writing about super-fun times, because I feel guilty that PDX friends that I don't see that much will feel left out if they read on my blog that I went to a fun party and didn't call them. Instead of shame-spiraling, I'm just going to try to hang out with them more.
So, I guess that's it. Sorry to raise the alarm. I got a little self-conscious there for a minute, but Perfect Heart is here to stay. I am recommitted to doing my thing, keeping it real, working it out. And no real or imaginary cubicle eye-roller is going to shame me into blogging about something more serious. Like economics. Or foreign policy. This is the Willow Show, man. Tune in!
Posted on March 26, 2006 | Comments (3)
cyber identity crisis
by Willow
Every time I think about blogging lately the following question has shoved it's way to the front of my consciousness; "What's the use?" My blog is by design a personal one, and I think my entries can generally be divided into three categories: Blunders, Beauties, and Explosions. Blunders are usually descriptions of events or embarrassing encounters, and feature me as a stunningly stumbling goon. Beauties emerge from the depths of my dreaminess- a long car ride or a surprising conversation with an unexpected sage draws out my inner poet, and I make tiny proclamations of basic goodness. Explosions are the result of heated emotion, when I find myself chronicling the depths of my eternal joy, despair, annoyance, etc., etc., ad nauseam.
But why? And for whom? Perfect Heart started as a way for me to keep in touch with far away friends, which set the tone of intimacy and exposure. I decided to bring my real-life personal quest to the internet- to be and present my most honest self in every circumstance. I was finishing up what I called my "mission" (in a sort of twisted shout-out to the mormons), a two year stint of self-testing and introspection that catalyzed in Ireland, where I had moved with no employment prospects or reliable contacts. But that's another story. Basically, I returned to the States having "come of age" and needed a place to test my sea legs. No more claustrophobic turning-inward. Instead I would put it all Out There; the self I had discovered abroad. Perfect Heart embodied it all: "here I am, with all of my flaws, and it's cool. I'm not going to flinch, or hate myself for being imperfect." And my friends read it and stayed my friends, and it really did help me stay in touch with them, and I didn't feel like a phony at all.
Then there was Ultimate Blogger 1, and my move to Urban Honking, which meant a boost in readership, for better or worse. People I knew vaguely or not at all would see me pop up on the blog roll from their desks at work and idly skim my latest crisis or trauma. Trolls from as far as Chicago and New York started lurking under my bridge, reaching up every now and then to grab my ankle and give me a little shake. Finally, last month a classic case of careful-what-you-wish-for was granted in the form of a Willamette Week article that punchily pegged me "anxiety-ridden." Which has of course made me anxious!
So now I'm dogged by "what's the use?" I guess the real question is, "who is it for?" Is Perfect Heart still primarily for me and my closest friends, but available to any voyeur who wants to sneak a peak? Is it okay for a blog on a popular server to have such a narrow audience? Do I need to move with the times, or something? I feel that my entries in the past few months have been pretty listless. I need to either recommit to my initial mission, or take a sabbatical and return with something broader. Is this something all bloggers go through? Periodic existential crises? Do you ever get bored of your own blog?
Mikey asked me, if Urban Honking was a Cable Network, what slot would my blog fill. Digest would be the Food Network, Greatest Band of All Time a much-improved VH1, etc. I think the Willamette Week was pretty dead-on when they compared me to My So-Called Life. Is there a place for that in 21st Century entertainment? Am I deluding myself, and Perfect Heart is actually Lifetime, or worse, the Oxygen network? Oh god. I will never write another word if this is true. It's so hard to think about my blog as a commodity! I feel sort of woozy as I try to consider what niche I'm filling and how much market forces should influence the content of my very personal personal blog.
Have I outgrown Perfect Heart, as it was originally designed? Or more bizarrely, has it outgrown me?
Posted on March 22, 2006 | Comments (10)
'I am from' poem
by Willow
My students are writing these nice 'I am from...' poems right now. They are so delightful that I thought I'd post one myself.
I am from white chalk on sun-bleached boulders,
from jackaloupes and marmots,
billy goats,
and the deepest of valleys.
I am from the Silver Rush.
I am from my mom's cool hands,
from whistling down the hallway,
from polio,
canasta,
pigeons,
and shrink-wrapped furniture.
I am from estrangement.
I am from casting a wide net,
the Burren,
The Cliffs of Moher,
the East River,
and all the houses on Elizabeth Street.
I am from dorm rooms,
dirt roads,
and the Heidi Cabin.
I am from saying goodbye.
I am from the Lewis and Clark Roller Skating Club,
from making out in stairwells,
from truth or dare,
rock shows,
pranks,
and the Suppressed Desire party.
I am from night swimming.
I am from boyfriends,
and first kisses,
from driving up I-5 for secrets,
from dying of a broken heart.
I am from carelessness,
and worry.
I am from "I need you badly, my very best friends,"
from traveling by train,
Boston Marriages,
Dodge Colt, Toyota, and Subaru,
from swing dancing and ska.
I am from the rodeo,
from zines and the Internet,
I am from wishing for telekinesis.
I am from classrooms,
from scissors and shushing,
bright eyes and eyes that are glassy,
strep throat and sticky hugs,
I am from protecting.
I am from lover and beloved,
I am from nests.
I am from light and weight,
I am from the horizon.
Posted on March 17, 2006 | Comments (10)
4th Annual Croquet Social
by Willow
Noah M. took this delightful photograph.
Posted on March 14, 2006 | Comments (1)
allow me to be a little snarky
by Willow
Last night I went to see Calvin Johnson play at the Artistary. I LOVE Calvin, I love his music, I love his jokes, I love that he does my dishes when he stays at my house. I love the endearing misfit community he presides over. I met some of my deepest friends through Calvin, and I will be loyal to him until the day I die.
However. Sometimes? The people who go to Calvin's shows? Can get on my nerves. Like last night. I was standing against the wall over to the side and I had a view of the whole crowd. It was a packed house! Everyone was sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling adoringly at my dear friend. Cool. then I noticed this one dude drinking from a ceramic mug. And I was like, "whoa, dude. Come on. Isn't that just a little bit affected? This isn't a house show!" But then my vision sort of panned out, and I realized there were about half a dozen plucky kids sipping from ceramic mugs. And for some reason that just irritated the fuck out of me. It crossed the line in my eyes from cute and twee to downright affected. I mean honestly. There's comfort and community, and then there's just putting on airs. Suddenly all of the ill-fitting sweaters and frayed scarves in the room made me feel a little woozy, and I had to apply some blush to calm my nerves. It didn't help that the girl wearing the red hoodie sitting in front of me kept bumping into my legs as she leaned her head back to feel the vibrations or whatever. Ugh. You all know how I feel about that!
Snarkiness aside, it was one of the nicest shows I've seen Calvin give. The crowd (much as they annoyed me) was super warm to him. They laughed at all his rad jokes, even the ones imbedded in his songs. And Calvin seemed really happy and silly, which I love. He told a great story that simultaneously roasted Adam Forkner and pumped him up. Karl Blau played next, and though I wasn't able to stay for the whole set, what I heard flashed me back to Shipwreck Days in the nicest way.
So, a little bit snarky, but nice where it counts.
Posted on March 12, 2006 | Comments (8)
professional debacles
by Willow
So the job fair last weekend was sort of a bust. There were hundreds of potential teachers wearing black suits and name tags, standing in long lines for five minute group interviews with glass-eyed principals. I was incredibly nervous. Luckily many of my colleagues has already completed their interviews before I arrived, so they were able to give me good tips. TIps like, "if you don't speak Spanish you're fucked." I don't speak Spanish. Also, they didn't really say, "fucked." Anyway. If you DID speak Spanish, or if you had a reading or ESL endorsement, you were funneled toward a more in depth interview. The rest of us poor schmucks were not as lucky. My interviewer interrupted me halfway through my answer to the ONLY question he asked me ("what would you bring to the district"). His eyes drifted over my head to another administrator, and he called her over to have a little chat about lunch or something. Much chuckling. Then after a couple of minutes he returned to me, "What were you saying?" Ugh. I mumbled something about 4th grade buddies and counted myself out of the running. I guess it didn't go as horribly as I thought, though, because I just received an email about a second interview. We will see.
Last night I went to dinner at the Head of School's house. My school encourages these mixed-group faculty/staff dinners. I sort of forgot about it, and ate a ginormous burrito about an hour before I had to be at her house. So when I showed up I was totally full. I hoped that it would be a buffet style event, so no one would notice how meager my serving was. No luck. The hostess served us, and I am ashamed to say that at least one appetizer wound up in my napkin.
I thought the whole debacle would make a great 70's Show episode. A character is invited to the boss's house for dinner, but fills up on french fries and hamburgers. To get an instant appetite, she smokes a joint to get the munchies. Then hilarity ensues. Great pitch, right?
Tonight HRS ARK ROYAL and I are going to stay at a fancy hotel. Cha cha cha. Perhaps we will take advantage of their "intimacy kit." Cla-ssy.
Posted on March 10, 2006 | Comments (4)
snakes or poachers?
by Willow
I am sitting at a table of six year old boys- all are drawing pictures of volcanoes. I am eavesdropping.
"Who do you want to win, Paul. Snakes or poachers?"
"I don't want to answer that. Make it snakes and pandas."
"What about poachers or pandas?"
"Pandas."
"Can you draw the volcano for me, Peter?"
"The big one or the small one?"
"Start with the big one and then do the small one."
"Willow! Did you know that the first Fort Stevens is just all grass now? And I got to shoot this teeny miniature cannon. It was only about two inches big. It makes smoke and a clicking sound."
Pablo interjects- "That's not even a real gun, Bruno."
"I know."
"Kevin, why do you always draw that same robot?"
"I just like it."
"Are those Ewoks?"
"Yeah, they're A-1 Ewoks. That's a new movie or something."
"Can I make a peanut cannon?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, no one copy me."
Posted on March 6, 2006 | Comments (4)
Willow Wonder's March Goals
by Willow
I have 3 more lessons to write tonight, and then I have to design an assessment plan and rubric for the integrated social studies unit I'm planning. It's due on Friday. It's sort of like my Master's thesis. But I am procrastinating. I'm thinking about HRS ARK ROYAL, and the February report he is most likely going to post today. He will note his progress in many arenas- fashion, food, business- and set goals for March. I have not been keeping stats on anything other than my mileage (which I've cut by 25% in 2006!), but I would like to set some March Goals. Here they are:
* Blog at least four times per week
* Flickr at least once per week
* Eat dinner at home at least twice per week
* Have sex at least four times per week
* Hang out with the following friends, who I haven't seen in a while:
-Nicole
-Liz #2
-Shannon
-Suzy
-Thea
-Justin
* Let parents at my school know that I will be available to tutor this summer
* Leave PDX for at least a day (not counting my Las Vegas Trip at the end of the month)
* Wash my car
* Complete my relationship contract with HRS ARK ROYAL and get it notarized
I can't think of any other goals, so I guess it's time to get back to work.
Posted on March 1, 2006 | Comments (8)
Angela Chase
by Willow
Urban Honking was featured in the Willamette Week today. There was a front page picture of Steve, Mike and Jona, plus another full page photo inside, and smaller pics of other UrHo bloggers. It was an amazing article, giving those three men their proper dues for setting up such a rad online community. The authors basically called UrHo a harbinger for a new era of media. It was really cool.
They did a blurb about Perfect Heart, which they described as "anxiety-ridden." Yikes! And they quoted from a post about waxing my (invisible) mustache. Double Yikes!! I am mild-to-moderately embarrassed by this summation of my blog, but it's cool. I do use this blog as a forum for examining the root of my emotions, which makes it somewhat volcanic. And I take weird pleasure in chronicling my embarrassing moments for public scrutiny. Perfect Heart is about Ultimate Transparency- revealing myself with all my strengths and flaws in an effort to present an honest self-portrait. It just feels a little funny to see it all condensed in the newspaper! The awesome part is that they called me a modern day Angela Chase (from My So-Called Life, remember?) which brings me just that much closer to Jordan Catalano. Mmm. Jordan Catalano. I have loved thee well. Mike and I joked that we are what would happen if Angela Chase started dating Max Fischer, which is just plain rad.
Today when I drove past an elementary school in my neighborhood, I was stopped by a crossing guard. The reason? A little girl and her mom were walking their potbellied pig across the street. Uh huh. Were they coming from school? Did the pig go to class with the girl, like for show and tell, or did mom just walk pig to school to pick up little girl? It was a big ol' pig, too. On a leash.
Liz's high school boyfriend has a pig as a pet. Along with some llamas, I think. And a dog. The pig's name was Rosie. Some pig.
Posted on March 1, 2006 | Comments (4)