All of my students were ridiculously amped up on sugar today, in addition to being completely sleep-deprived. It’s like the 1st Grade hangover. Go go Halloween! Every kid had some frantic, endless story to tell me about trick-or-treating. But the most excited kid, the kid who had to tell me his story twice because he was so excited was Conner. A man placed crackers in Conner’s trick-or-treat bag. Crackers!?! To a seven year old boy, this is the weirdest, most hilarious thing that could ever happen. In fact, the first time he told me about the crackers, he could barely get the story out, he was giggling so much. The second time, he showed me the crackers. And then he ate them.

or anything quite so unreal
let’s just be lovers!
I have that Magnetic Field’s song stuck in my head, thanks to a cozy weekend at Rebecca’s doing homework and listening to itunes. It’s a pretty good one to hum while I photocopy pumpkin prints and stuff. It’s all kinds of rainy today, but I’m not minding it at all. Yesterday Rebecca and I picked Steve up from the airport and then the three of us brunched at that weird castle by Multnomah Falls. All you can eat! Buffet! All you can drink! Champagne! It was so nice. And then today we basically let the kids play all day long, which was so fun for all of us. Halloween is no time for forcing kids to do work. They thanked us with lots of hugs and stories that went nowhere.
After work I went to the chiropractor to get my spine aligned. She gave me a sweet massage beforehand and I almost fell asleep on the table. My back feels so good! Now I’m drinking hot chocolate for a half an hour until my yoga class. Today is Total Wellness Day for me! When was the last time I did yoga or had an adjustment or lay on a massage table? The answer is I don’t fucking know, it’s been so long. But health insurance is sweet, and so is knowing the yoga teacher, so I am in good shape today.
Also making me happy? An inbox filled with nice emails from nice friends-old and new, cyber and real-life. It is so rad to be In Touch with people. I feel expansively loving and loved.
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On another note, we finished season one of LOST last night. And it was so intense that we went ahead and watched the first episode of season two. Which was also extremely intense. There is so much danger on that island!!! I’m getting to the point where I am almost too scared to watch the show. I don’t know where my readers are in their LOST viewing, though I know many of you are deep into the show. When can I start gushing about plot points without being a spoiler? Report back to me, please, ASAP. Because The Others are giving me nightmares and I need to discuss!

Lately I’ve been waking up with poem fragments rattling around in me. It’s funny. An hour before my alarm goes off I’ll open my eyes and think, “When did I grow to fill this bed?/When did I move from side to center?” or “Running my palm down my arm I confirm/ with great relief/ that I am more than flesh and nerves.” Then I fall back to sleep but spend the rest of the day struggling to remember.
Autumn does that to me. It shakes loose my silly lines, my poems and songs, my mix-tape plans, my margin sketches. Maybe I harvest the ideas that have been growing all summer. Maybe the knowledge that winter is creeping up behind scares my subconscious into spilling the beans. In any case October is always good to me. And thank the lord, because I spend the rest of the year secretly worrying that I am not an artist, not even close. Acting counts only when I am in front of the camera, and blogging… well, it depends on who you talk to.
My friend Galen, who is a ridiculously talented comic artist, disapproves of this line of thought. In his estimation, art extends beyond physically creation. He points to the art of conversation, the art of problem solving, and what about con artists? (I’m actually citing a conversation we had in high school here, so I hope I’m not misrepresenting him, if his views have changed.) His is a reassuring, if unconventional viewpoint.
The point is, October brings me respite from my artistic insecurities. I might not jam out on the stand-up bass or paint dinosaurs, but one month a year I write poems and little songs, and it gives me some satisfaction. Steve and Rebecca and I were talking recently about our respective adolescent poetry experiences, and how emo poetry readings should make a comeback. Or more specifically, we should find our high school poems and read them to each other at Denny’s or something.
Happy Halloween!

I had the weirdest long day today. So many college classes, so much emotion! It was my turn to lead our seminar class, and I brought up inter-cohort communications as my topic. We used to have these amazing dynamic class discussions, but this semester has been pretty flat. People are stressed, vibes are negative. We can do better than that! So I had the group do a freewrite and read-around, voicing their concerns and frustrations. In a class of 19, I made 7 people cry. And also I cried. But we moved through the awkwardness and emotion, and came out with a renewed collective commitment to pumping each other up. There was a lot of hugs, a lot of apologizing and clarifying, a lot of agreeing to be more present and invested in our group health. I feel so fried now, but also really hopeful. School has not been much fun these last couple months, and I think this conversation has the potential to really turn things around. I love my cohort, and I want our connection to be strong and clear.
Sorry for the very specific, probably boring to you entry. Here are some fun things:
* I am unwinding after my cathartic day by eating Doritos and watching TV with Steve and Rebecca. ANTM. Nacho Cheesier. Ganja. It’s so good.
* Every time I had a break from class today I checked my email and found a new message from my friend giving me awesome links to Bruce Springsteen info and nerdy LOST trivia. So nice. It was like being fed York peppermint patties all day long. Yum.
* Dave Longstreth is in town, and I was lucky enough to eat pizza with him this evening. I love that man. Nice man.
*I talked to my mom after the crazy seminar and she gave me nice new age advice on group safety and dynamics. Think placing worries in baskets. That’s what I’m talking about.

So, I think it’s time for Perfect Heart to receive a makeover. Fall is here, and with it comes changes, shedding of the old, reminders of our mortality, pumpkin patch visits, sweet puffy vests, waking up in the dark, crunchy afternoon walks, moving bikes to basements, flu shots, bouts of depression, a renewed love of nature. And blog redesigns.
In that spirit, I ask you, dear readers, for some (gulp) blog feedback. How do you feel about Perfect Heart’s current design? Is it easy enough to navigate? Do I need more links and photos (I know I do)? Does it bug you that I do most of my blogging on weekends now? Should I post-date my entries and have them show up on Wednesday or whatever, since most of you check me from work? And what about content? More lists? Less? Is the emo to anecdotal ratio working for you?
This is like Pandora’s box! The moment I thought about doing a reader survery there was no turning back, even though I’m totally nervous about getting slammed!
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In other news, did you all know that I love my friend Rebecca? Well, I really do. We are having a “romantic weekend getaway” together right now, due to her electricity being turned off in her apartment and me having an extra futon in my little nest. She’s a great grand girl, as the Irish would say.
Also, LOST is the best, scariest show ever! Mike, Josh and I (plus recent addition Rebecca- see above) have been going so deep in to the LOST archives. Let me tell you. The show is good. And it is scary. Sometimes it starts to get predictable (especially when you’re watching 3-5 episodes in a row), but then they throw in a plot twist that FUCKING BLOWS YOUR MIND!!!
My favorite characters:
*Hurley
*Claire
*Charley
*Black lady that we’ve met only twice
*Sai-eed (spelling?)
*And in a surprise twist, Sawyer!
LOST is Survivor meets Twin Peaks, and it is FREAKY!
Get in.

I’ve been in crush-hibernation the last few months- avoiding dates, feeling gross. I felt like I had checked the last crush off my list after those dates with Coffee Shop Crush in August. No one seemed that interesting to me, and and the thought of more first dates made me groan or yawn, depending on my mood. Lots of studies + working with little kids + being sick + waves of depression= Do Not Ask Me On A Date, I Am NOT Interested.
But. Now. I have a crush. And it feels great. It is a super secret crush, so secret that this person does not even get a pseudonym. It is very probable that s/he reads my blog, and as I am 97% certain that my crush is unreciprocated (and possibly inappropriate) I don’t want to give any hints. But my blog has been so drama-free for the last little while, any butterflies deserve some air time, right?
Which brings me to my next topic: sexy music.
What bands put you in the mood? Post them in the comments!
Here is my (partial) list:
*Nirvana
*Esquavelle (I have no idea how to spell this)
*Yo La Tengo
*Bruce Springsteen
*Heart
*Otis Redding
*Panther
I could keep this list going all night long, baby, but I have a date with my Elementary Mathematics textbook. Hot.

Please allow me to anticipate your probing questions regarding my dateless attendance at last night’s wedding:
Q: Did you forget to turn off your cell phone, and did it ring during the ceremony?
A: Yes, and sadly, yes. Although my ringer sounds like windchimes which softens the blow a bit. Also I was able to frantically switch it iff after only 3-4 seconds. But still, right?
Q: Were you seated next to your enemy at the reception, as predicted in your last entry?
A: Of course I was.
Q: Did he become your defacto date for the evening, despite your mutual loathing?
A: Aaargh! Yes.
Q: Did he make snide comments about you hamming for the camera?
A: Yes he did.
Q: Did you make snide comments about him selling his soul for a little bit of cash? (He is a writer cum insurance guy.)
A: I did make snide comments, yes.
Q: But, in fairness, did he hold an umbrella over your head and bring you wine when your glass was empty?
A: Yes he did.
Q: And that was nice, right?
A: Whatever.
Q: Let’s talk dance floor. Did you do the electric slide and the hustle?
A: Yes. VERY poorly on both counts.
Q: And after a couple of glasses of wine did you become the classic wedding loser dancing with the ring bearers to Golden Oldies on an otherwise deserted dance floor?
A: Not for the whole time or anything! And Crista was with me for most of it! Oh forget it. I was that loser.

Q: But let me take this moment to remind our readers that you are, in fact, an EXTRORDINARILY good dancer.
A: Well. Thank you for that.
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Hopefully your burning questions have been answered. Here are a couple more anecdotes, though just in case:
*My friend Justin Sanders was the best man. We got to talking about toasts, and he told me he planned on “winging it.” Aghast, I forced him to go stand in the lobby and come up with a “thread” to wind through his speech, convincing him finally that “winging it” effectively equals “making a bad toast.” He found a thread, and his toast was fine.
*Dusty reported witnessing a very cinematic conversation between my enemy, Joe C., and a tall groomsman from Oklahoma. The DJ announced the last song, and I went to find my shoes along the dancefloor periphery.
Tall Groomsman to Joe C.: It’s the last song, man. Are you gonna dance with her, or am I?
Joe C.: What?
Groomsman: Listen, brother. This is my last night in town. If you don’t go ask her to dance right now, I’m going to. So what’s it gonna be?
According to Dusty Joe just turned around and beelined over to me. He arrived just as I was putting on my shoes.
Joe C.: That tall dude wants a piece of you (or some similarly crass comment.)
Willow: That’s because I’m so good looking. (Thinking Joe is making some weird mean joke.)
Joe and Willow slow dance to “You Light Up My Life,” or some other such nonsense. It is awkward and funny.
Q: Do you have a hangover?
A: Please turn the lights off and bring me some coffee.

In Ireland there is a superstition about magpies. They’re regarded as bearers of news:
One’s for sorrow
Two’s for joy
Three’s a girl
Four’s a boy
If you see only one magpie, you have to wave at it, like you’re waving bye-bye to sorrow. It reminded me of another counting superstition that my mom’s old Canadian boyfriend taught me about sneezing:
One’s a wish
Two’s a kiss
Three’s a letter
Four is something better
I wonder if there are a lot more of these little rhymes. If you, sweet readers, know of any, will you post them in the comments? I like them.
Unrelatedly, I am going to a wedding tonight. Dateless. WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I MADE THIS DECISION??? WHO GOES TO A WEDDING DATELESS??? It only hit me yesterday that this is a TERRIBLE idea, but by then it was too late. I tried to rope Mikey into going with me, but I sorta felt like a creep asking so late in the game, and besides, he has plans. Just now I was lamenting to my friendly barista Rachael, and she offered to be my date. But then I called around and figured out there is assigned seating at the reception and bringing someone might be weird. So I guess I’m going solo. My sneaking suspicion is that I will be seated next to my arch nemisis Joe C. People think it’s funny to force us to socialize even though they know we are enemies.
Weddings are dumb.

When I was driving around today I heard the song “American Woman” on the radio. I don’t really like the song at all. But when I lived in Ireland they played it in pubs all the time, and whenever it came on all of my Irish friends would gush, “Willow! It’s your song!!” You know. Because I’m American. And also a woman. And then they’d start dancing and pointing at me, and I’d have to dance too, because it was “my song,” but really I’d be thinking, “I hate this song! I do not feel connected to it in anyway! I am a fraud!” Ah, the ex-patriot experience.
So, I’ve wanted to do a “shout out” entry for a long time. Maybe that’s not the right term. Basically I want to post a list of long lost friends, so that if they ever google themselves they’ll be led to my blog and get back in touch. These are people that I still have a great deal of love for, even though we drifted apart long ago. So, in no particular order, here I go:
*Eliza Furmansky (Is this how I spell her last name? I can’t remember! Maybe Eliza Fermansky? How did I forget? I can still remember her old phone number!) Eliza and I were friends from 4th-10th grade. She still defines “artist” to me. That girl made great art, had lovely handwriting, acted in plays, and has lots of really cool friends. She was a “free spirit.” as they say. We had a lot of fights, mostly because I was pretty insecure and she could be unintentionally mean. But I loved her, and still think about her a lot. I heard she moved to Seattle, and if she’s still there I’d really like to have a visit. Her mom let us have boy-girl sleepovers in middle school, and her dad helped us build sukkots in his backyard every autumn.
*Darcy Otis was my friend at Denver School of the Arts in 9th grade. She played cello and loved buffalo (the animal, not the city.) She always seemed vaguely sad, and I heard she went through some rough times after we fell out of touch. I hope she is okay now. She had a great sense of humor and loved Janis Joplin. Her car was named Linus, and mine was Lucy.
*Geoff Wolfson was my first boyfriend in 4th grade. Also an amazing artist, he and his brother Sol used to hairspray their bangs up NKOTB-style. We went to middle school together, but parted ways in high school. I ran into him at a movie theater a few years ago, and was so surprised to see him that I think I acted really weird. He had a great voice.
*Talia Epstein, Andrea Von Der Oh (also foggy on this spelling), and Sarah Weum were my freshman roommates. I really liked those ladies, even though I acted like a crazy lady throughout that entire year. I was an only child living with other young people for the first time, and I didn’t handle it very well. They were very gracious though, and I hope they are having fun hiking around and stuff. (They were real outdoorsy ladies.)
*Martin Wilson is the man who made me a woman. You know what I mean. He had spikey bleached-blond hair and loved everything electronic (including but not limited to: robots, e-music, uh, other electronic stuff…) He was so nice to me. He had this really soft hispanic voice, funny posture, and a blue jacket that I loved. He moved to Spain for a semester in college and wrote me love letters in Spanish, and called me from weird phone booths there. I responded by acting like a flaky 18 year old girl and bailing out when the distance seemed too far. He may still live in Portland, but I haven’t run into him in the year since I moved back here, so maybe he left town.
There are probably lots of other people I’d like to find, but that’s all I can think of right now. Maybe this will become a regular feature for me. It’s nice to indulge those old feelings and memories sometimes. If any of the people I mentioned here ever read this, please send me an email- wonderwillow@gmail.com. I want to know where you went.
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In other news, I think my random adult acne is clearing up. Hooray! I’ve been using this clay-infused face wash from New Seasons made by Collective Well-Being. It makes my skin feel so nice! I also purchased a Desert Essence blemish stick, and carry it in my purse. I have been applying it whenever I remember, which means sometimes in class and sometimes at Zac’s birthday dinner at Sagetarius. Bad manners? Maybe. Clearing up my skin? I think so! Why oh why have I been breaking out so much now, at age 25, when I made it through my entire teenage years virtually pimple-free? Am I being punished? Grr.
It is possible that the longer I am Without Boyfriend, the worse my appearance becomes. Skin: bad. Hair: bad (I need a haircut in a major way, and I’ve stopped using product in case it was making me breakout, so my curls are very sad.) Clothes: bad. Well, they’re not especially bad, but I’m pretty bored of them, and I have zero money to buy the drawer full of new sweaters that I am craving. Plus all of my lady friends are such cutie-pies I feel downright dowdy in comparison. This is probably not really boyfriend-related at all, but you know. When I was with AJ I felt like a stone-fox, and now I feel very blah. Wow. This is the most I have ever written about my appearance. I hope that long-lost friends that may be reading this do not think that I am still a high school girl. Yikes!
Okay. Enough of this. I have to do homework or I will feel very guilty about watching LOST all weekend with Mikey and Josh.

Yes. The cats played basketball. I saw it with my own eyes. Well, one cat anyway. He made a slamdunk! I’ll write about it all when I have more time. Or maybe enough has been said on the subject.
So, I’m feeling way better. My body is feeling better, and my heart is feeling better. Just about 100% now. I don’t know why I got so low, there. Just every once in a while I fall down so hard. I start to feel that all of my friends are drifting away, and the world is scary and sad. Especially post-hurricanes and earthquakes and governmental mismanagement- none of which is really new, or surprising, but still it’s awful. I like to (maybe naiively) believe that humanity is incrementally moving towards Goodness, or at least Betterness. When I’m down I suspect we’re not moving at all, or maybe backward. Maybe I should join a church. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Or an ethical society. It would be nice to have a community in which to talk about Civilization’s Moral Progress, if there is such a thing. (Though “moral” has a lot of Republican connotations. But you know what I mean.)
In any case, I was awfully sad there, for a while. My sweet friends took care of me though. I got nice phone calls and emails and even a trip to the Home and Garden Show where the Friskee’s Cats did tricks on a weird stage. Thank you, friends. Despite my fears about the fate of humanity in general, all of the actual humans that I am close to are really, really Good. And so I have hope again. Thanks.