I have developed the terrible habit of listening to BBC America as I fall asleep. Not that BBC is intrinsically bad, don’t get me wrong. It does terrific coverage of international news. Which of course is mostly bad news. Which is my problem. I listen to stories about war and natural disasters and super viruses as I try to fall into sweet dreams. Why do I do this to myself? Well, it started because I sometimes have trouble falling asleep. I generally read until I can’t keep my eyes open, often waking after a few hours to turn off the light and place a bookmark. But about a year ago, that stopped working. My eyes would close, but I wouldn’t drift off. I would start to worry. About, you know, whatever. And then I would be awake. And I would worry about the fact that I was still awake. Which would wake me up more. So I started turning on the radio to distract me from my night-thoughts.
But regular radio stations didn’t work, because the commercials would come on and they would be so much louder than the music had been that they would wake me up. So I switched to OPB, played at a really low volume. Before midnight it’s usually some dumb world music show or other, which is mellow. But woe to the Willow who goes to bed late, because after 12 it’s floods and famine on BBC.
My CD player is broken, BTW. And all of my tapes are kept in my car. I could jimmy rig my ipod to my stereo somehow. That might work. When I lived in Ireland I would fall asleep with my headphones on.
BREAKING NEWS!!!!!
Yesterday Mike, Josh, Ryan, Gene and I went to a Timbers game (Timbers won 2-1). On the way out a girl looked over at us and shouted, “I read your website!” Mike smiled and waved at her. Because he was in the newspaper for UrHo. But then we crossed the street and she yelled my name. “Willow!! I read your website!!” So I shouted, “You read MY website? I thought you meant HIS!” pointing to Mike. She yelled, “Oh yeah, his too.”
Boo ya!
I am Internet famous, thank you very much. I was even wearing a hat and she recognized me! I fully intend to let this go to my head. I think I am in line for some sweet dreams now, right?

I’m back up!
I stopped by Steve’s yesterday after school feeling completely exhausted and sad and hopeless. I told him I thought I was depressed, and that I hoped it was simply circumstantial. I sat on his couch for a while and practiced fake smiles, and then went on my way.
Well.
Later that night I rode my bike to meet Suzy and a different Steve for a drink and to check out the apartments I’m moving into. They want to move too, and so I was trying to sell them on my building. Let me just tell you how rad it would be to live in a 6 unit building that was filled up with your friends. Like college dorms! Without creeps and losers! Anyway, they fell in love with the biggest one bedroom, which I cannot blame them for. If I had more money (or a live-in BF) I would totally take that place. But it’s a little spendy. Anyway. I had resigned myself to living in the small studio and just making it work with screens and bookcases and stuff. But last night? I realized? That they priced the apartments by size! Which means there is a lovely little one bedroom that I can afford! And I’m going to take it! And it’s a corner apartment, which means that my bedroom will have FOUR WINDOWS! And we can put on shows in the ballroom downstairs, and we’ll probably get a ping-pong table for down there, too. I know, right?
While we were checking out the ballroom, my phone rang. And when I checked the message later, it was a PRINCIPAL from a GREAT SCHOOL calling to tell me about a 1ST GRADE OPENING!!! Oh yeah. She called me from home. Gave me her cell number. I have an interview next Wednesday. Boom. When I got to school today, I realized that a handful of my coworkers know this principal. One of them promptly wrote her an email singing my praises. Double boom!
So yeah. I’m pretty confident that my depression was circumstantial. Because it is gone. Today, anyway. Just having a real interview on the horizon is a huge relief. I was steeling myself for $50,000 of debt and no job. Oh lord. I shudder.
I told my friend Tiffany about my record store crush, and she was like, “Oh my god! We’ll have you both over for dinner! He loves coming over to eat! It will be great!” She and her partner have two rad kids who go to the school where I teach. It would be fun, but I told her I’ll probably need some time. Which she ignored. It think it may be out of my hands at this point. Yeeps!
Bowling tonight. I need to remember to go home and put on some socks. Someone who talks to me before bowling, remind me to wear socks. Thank you.

I will repeat an apology I made in the comments of my last entry, for those readers who don’t linger: I am sorry that my last entry made zero sense. I am sort of at loose ends, these days. Yesterday Amy listened to me bitch about job hunts and such for a little while, then asked if I had any “fun summer plans.” I could not give her an answer beyond “well, I’m moving into an apartment.” How can I have no fun summer plans?? My 4th of July trip to New York has been cancelled, and a much-hoped-for visit from Liz and Heather has yet to be finalized. Note to self: Make some fun plans. For summer.
I have been subbing all week for “sick” teachers. It’s amazing how many people fall ill on 90 degree days! Boy howdy, the kids were wild today. It was as if they had never been to school before. I would sweetly ask them to settle down and they would stare blankly at me for approximately 2.3 seconds before returning to their chatting/rolling/shredding small pieces of paper. A boy sneezed and snot went literally ALL OVER his desk and book. I couldn’t stop myself. I said the word “GROSS” loudly before I even knew what was happening. That got some attention from the kids. I am very sorry, snot-boy.

I dreamt that I was the groom marrying Willow. The wedding took place in a furniture store. I was a skinny blonde man. I was pretty pumped. Then suddenly I was me, the bride, marrying this skinny blonde man in a furniture store, and I looked around, and I was like, “OK, I can do this.” But then I realized that my parents weren’t there, and I got so sad. I had been too busy to invite anyone, including my mom and dad, and then I was like, “I don’t even know the guy I’m marrying! I don’t want to do this!”
Nothing is more interesting than reading/hearing about other people’s dreams, right? Heh, heh, hmm.
I think it’s time for me to start building a crush pyramid. I already have some candidates, including my former (and future) landlord, the man who owns the record store next door to my coffee shop, and a Hot Dad at school. (He’s divorced.) I think record shop man is at the top of the pyramid right now. According to the ladies in attendance at Sunday’s “Ladies Cocktail Party,” he is a catch. Here are some facts about him, according to the drunk girls:
* “He’s single!”
* “He’s like, the nicest guy.”
* “He’s a business owner!”
* “He totally has his shit together!”
* “You should totally ask him on a date.”
So… yeah. High praise. I’m trying hard to avoid the rebound stuff and preserve my fragile relationship karma, so I don’t think I will ask anyone out on any dates anytime soon. But it’s good to consider the options, right? Make a graph? There are a couple of other dudes I could probably work into the pyramid, but you know. Don’t want to give it all away on the internet.
I actually made myself a halfway promise that I’m not going to make any first moves. Boys are such wimps, I always end up asking a man out or going for a kiss or whatever. But I have been burned! And not just this one time! Mark my words: The next man I fall for will be one who has pursued me strongly. I’m not going to make it easy on anyone. Fuck that. I can smile and make small talk until the cows come home- I ain’t sweating it. Leave the heavy lifting to the tough guys. I’ve got a pyramid to build anyway. (Which I guess involves heavy lifting. Whatever. I’m just talking tough. Like a tough guy. Dammit!) All of this is just a way of saying I probably won’t date for a while. Take that, creeps!
Sigh.
I’m going to go take a shower.

Last night Steve, Rebecca, Mike and I went out to Wilsonville to play miniature golf. We got there kind of late, and they were not going to let us play. But Steve turned on his charm, and not only did they let us play, let let us play for FREE! Now, I am normally pretty terrible at putt putt. I blame my left handedness and my terrible depth perception (due to a non-wandering lazy eye). But for whatever reason I was TEARING IT UP last night. I was probably hyper-focusing on the game because I felt pretty nervous about this first post-breakup hang out. In any case, I was playing so well that Mike and I decided to “make the game a little more interesting.” A couple more holes into our high stakes game, just when things were getting exciting…. they turned out the lights. On the putt putt course. All of them. We were only on like the 7th hole! We tried to play in the dark for a bit, but it was way too hard. So we gave up. And I stole my golf ball.
We used to play putt putt sometimes in high school. If I remember correctly, Liz was pretty good. She’s actually pretty good at lots of games- cribbage, bowling, Taboo, shaboo-ya. She’s just one of those people. The only game I can say with confidence that I am good at is Wheel of Fortune.
Two people in 24 hours told me how good I “always” smell. It’s weird to think that I’ll never really know what I smell like to other people. At least I smell good to them. Or so they say.
I like Tom Petty. I don’t care what anyone says.
I realized the other day that my friend Tom (not Petty) reads my blog. I’d sort of forgotten, but then in an email he mentioned it. And I got really embarrassed. Tom detests earnestness. We have a friendship based on sarcasm and making fun of stuff. When I lived in Ireland I would send out Perfect Heart-like emails to lots of people, and he would respond by ridiculing my musings on rainbows or whatever dumb thing. Man! I love Tom. I need to get back to New York for a visit really soon.
Yesterday I got a text message from my friend Stephen asking for my waist measurements and my address. He lives in Denver. One time he bought me a Betsy Johnson dress. I still wear it to fancy events. I’m dying to know what he’s got planned right now- I hope it doesn’t involve him spending a lot of money. But I also hope it involves something pretty. So there’s that.
And…. Scene!

I’ve been shying away from “kids say the darndest things” entries, but I couldn’t resist this one. A little boy in the other 1st Grade class approached me a couple of days ago. This happens to be a VERY intense little boy- a future eccentric genius, I’m sure. Anyway, he tells me it’s his mother’s birthday that day. I ask him if he got her a present, to which he replies, “No. But I just made her one this morning. It’s a paper airplane. And it’s name is ‘I love you.'”
Oh those crazy… Well. You get it.
I don’t really know what to write about. I’m feeling better than I was, but still sort of defeated. 4 out of the 19 people in my cohort have jobs now, which is wonderful. For them. I’m a job application machine these days, cranking out essays and letters of interest like nobody’s business, but no new interviews have been scheduled. I really want to work in Portland Public Schools, but they don’t post their openings until June at the very earliest, while all of the other districts in the area are doing their hiring now. Which means that if I want a job in PPS it means potentially passing on job offers that come in earlier, in the hope that I can secure something with them. And that’s such an intense gamble! Of course, I haven’t progressed past screening interviews with any districts yet, so maybe it’s a moot point. Ideally I would like to work at Boise-Elliot, the school right up the street from the apartment I’m moving into in July. I could walk to work, be part of the community in which I teach, make a good salary… all the idealistic stuff. In reality I will probably get a job in Gresham or Vancouver, WA with a 45 minute commute each way, because ain’t no way I’m moving to the suburbs. It’s cool, though. A job is a job, and if I have to travel a bit so be it.
On the other hand, I’ve been seriously considering applying for an internship with ‘This American Life,” which is now broadcasting out of New York City. It pays pretty well, and it sounds fucking awesome. It’s a 4 month internship, and you get to actually write and produce segments. The application looks pretty fun (compared to yawn-fest teaching apps), and I think I’m just going to go for it this weekend. I’m sure it’s really competitive, but I think I’d be a strong candidate. I have radio experience (if you can call my tenure at jenky ol’ KLC ‘radio experience’) and I think my degrees in theater and teaching would look pretty good. Plus if they want to know more about my narrative style, they could wade through the last two years of Perfect Heart posts (god help them). I mean, they like earnestness, right?
I have been missing New York a lot. I think I have the 2 year itch. Or maybe I’m just sick of being dumped and soon-to-be unemployed in Portland. Taking a few months off from this town could be pretty nice. And then I could come back and substitute teach for the rest of the year when the internship is over.
Oh, wishful thinking.
I feel so boring right now. I’m sorry.

I was talking to my friend Stephen the other night- a deep homie from my Denver days. We’ve been playing phone tag for over a month, and it was so nice to finally catch up with him. We talked for over an hour, with topics ranging from comic books to dead parents to subversive bible studies. We talked about mapping human hearts- how we become cartographers of our own gifts and struggles in order to help our lovers navigate our highs and lows. As we grow up our maps become more detailed and we can help our partners avoid swamps and treacherous mountain passes.
I have been in a LOT of relationships. And it’s only now that I feel like I have a pretty solid map to offer up. I can say to a person, “Look out. This path will make me emo, but if you just detour a quarter of a mile north, everything will be totally cool.” And also, I’m really good at reading other people’s maps. I can backtrack and break trail and alter my course to make another person feel at ease. Which should be really rad, but actually means nothing at this point. You have to have a Clark to your Lewis, or whatever. Makes me sad.
It’s like with superheroes. My favorite part of superhero stories is the “seizing of the sword,” when a dude decides to become a hero. He is like, “I just want to be a normal kid, doing my stuff, living my life. But I’ve got this power, and if I don’t use it the city will be destroyed, and besides that I would be betraying myself and the people I love if I didn’t own up to this.” And then the hero stops the speeding train and saves the pretty lady who will never know the true identity of her savior. Good bit, right? Except Stephen and I talked about how becoming the hero, accepting the gift, is just the beginning of your troubles. Heroes are always lonely, always in danger, always on duty. It’s a rough life. No wonder Batman is such a jerk.
I’m not saying that I’m a hero, or that heart-mapping is a superpower. I’m just saying that coming into your own doesn’t mean that you’ll be happy, that’s all. (Clearly my superpower is not making people who read my blog feel good. Sorry.)

Well, I got a break from all my brooding today. I had a really good interview with the Beaverton School District. I decided against wearing my suit because it’s such a beautiful day, and it felt good to be more casual. I talked for half an hour with a principal from an Arts and Sciences high school, and I think I represented myself pretty well. He wouldn’t hire me in his building of course, but I feel pretty confident that he’ll pass me along to the elementary folks. My Evergreen interview was cancelled, as I mentioned yesterday, but maybe it’s for the best. When I was on campus today I told one of my professors about it, and she told me the principal at that school is totally nuts. And then she sent an email to another principal in that district on my behalf. So rad.
After my interview I looked at these really nice apartments that I have been in love with since I moved back to Portland. My previous landlord owns the building, and so he met me and showed me around. Oh my goodness. They are absolutely perfect. Huge windows, great floors, super high ceilings. They’re in a big brick building that was built in the 1920’s, and they are gorgeous. They won’t be available until the end of June, but then they’re all coming open at once, so I’ll have my pick. The one bedrooms are a little pricey, but there is a very reasonable studio. But friends, the one bedrooms are fantastic. I’m going to have to do some serious thinking in the next 6 weeks or so. I’m feeling really happy about this one area of my life. Yea.
So, I’m trying out new affirmations. Momcat suggested I ask my students to come up with one for all of us to use. As soon as I have a few spare minutes with them, I’m totally going to try that. In the meantime, I’ve replaced “Positive Self-Talk” with the equally meta “The Way of the Pilgrim.” Because in Franny and Zooey, Franny is reading that book and repeating the meditative mantra “God have mercy on my soul,” which is sort of hard for me to get on board with. But I do feel so connected to her character that repeating the title of her book seems like a pretty cool idea. “The Way of the Pilgrim, The Way of the Pilgrim.” It has a nice ring to it.

I have just rearranged my sidebar a little bit. Some links to really cool blogs are gone. This is because either a) they hadn’t been updated in forever, or b) they are urbanhonking blogs. I started to feel bad about linking to some urho blogs and not others, because really they’re all so good. So if I endorse them all, I might as well just refer readers to the blog roll. Now, I don’t know how long this new set up is going to last, though it does make sense. But it feels really weird not to have links to Liz and Steve- two of my closest homies. Anyway. I’ll give it a while and see how it goes. In the meantime don’t think I’ve stopped liking those blogs. I still really, really, really, really like them.
The end.

It is 12:23pm and I am not at work. I am at the Fresh Pot after taking a cool morning walk around the neighborhood with my friend Steve. My mentor teacher encouraged me to take the day off to prepare for my interviews tomorrow. And also because I had an anxiety attack yesterday. Yup. I was filling out an application online, not actively thinking about stressful/sad things, and suddenly I got tunnel vision and my heart started pounding, and I got dizzy and nauseous and had to lie down for 40 minutes or so. The party is simply never-ending, here in the Heart Land.
I’m so stubborn, and at the same time so idealistic. The circular thoughts and conversations I’ve been having are almost comical.
Friend: It’s for the best, Willow. It wasn’t good for you.
WIllow: Yeah, but it was almost good.
F: But it wasn’t.
W: But it could have been really, really good. There were times when it was pretty darn good.
F: Things were not getting better.
W: But I really wanted them to get better!
F: Uh huh.
W: I BELIEVED in this relationship!
F: Right. But things were getting worse.
W: Right. But I really really REALLY wanted them to get better.
At which point my friend’s head explodes. Or I get a slap. Okay, neither of those things, but I’m sure it’s exasperating. It’s just so hard, on the one hand, to let go of the fun times we had together and the feelings we felt. But it’s almost harder to let go of the potential- the dates and projects and trips that were on the horizon- the closeness that might have expanded. I’m not quite able yet to look at the cost of that potential, I guess.
The result of all of this is that I’m lashing out at my friends. Not my real life friends, but rather my news source friends- NPR and the New Yorker. I know that many of you have heard me sing the praises of these beloved companions, but right now I hate them both. New Yorker? I don’t care about cannibalism right now. My heart hurts and I simply don’t want to think about mothers eating their babies back in pioneer times, okay? You know I read you cover to cover and that an article like this would make me feel really weird. Show a little sensitivity why don’t you. Give me a nice Ian Frazier piece on hot air balloons or something. I don’t even want to start on the pig carving article. Very inappropriate. And NPR! I listen to you on my way to work, on my way home from work, and whenever I am in my room, including while I sleep at night. I am very loyal. But you have been BORING me recently! I wait and I wait for a Storycorps report, and it never comes, and then I think I’m going to get a cool “This I Believe” segment, and nothing. Not even a teaser. Instead all I get is crappy Neil Conan going on and on about Iran and Bird Flu, and it’s just a downer, man. All of Terry Gross’ interviews have been lame lately, and those evening music programs are pretty poor. I know it’s my own fault that I haven’t been up in time for “This American Life” in a while, but sheesh. You’d think you could air it a couple more times. I mean, if you do the Car Guys that courtesy… I need my soul to be stirred right now, and all you guys give me is bad news and stuff I don’t care about. Man, if the tape deck in my car worked right now, you’d so be history.
INTERVIEW UPDATE!!!
The interview that I spent the bulk of the day preparing for has been cancelled. The school secretary just called me and told me that some things have shifted in the district and they have to hold off on interviewing new hires for a little bit longer.
Everything is coming up Willow!