it's almost december again...

I'm not going on a bunch of dates again, I can tell you that for sure.
As fun and awesome as it was, I'm getting old (and my car just broke down in the middle of a busy intersection.) I'm in no mood to put myself out there, arriving by way of bus or a ride from my sister.
(nice segue...)

AND NOW A SERIOUS UN-PAID ENDORSEMENT--

I have the secret to younger skin. It's this incredible little pot of moisturizer made by Robanda.
A couple of years ago I used this stuff and a fifteen year old lied about his age and asked if he could come do magic tricks for my students. First he thought I was in high school. But when he learned I was actually TEACHING he realized this was a great chance to perform. He also claimed to be 17, then 18 and finally said something about being a sophomore.
That was the first day I ever used this moisturizer and you bet it wasn't the last.
My boyfriend-at-the-time found me trapped in an awkward conversation with this darling kid in the magazine section of a bookstore and I was quick to grab his arm and get all "OH, YOU MUST TALK ABOUT MAGIC TRICKS WITH THIS GUY!" because it was so uncomfortable and everything.
But yes. Totally awesome that someone would think I was in high school.


Last week I was out with this awesome guy and got embarrassed when the waitress wanted my ID. BUT I can tell you for sure: I'd moisturized that day!
THEN last night I went out with my babysister (who is actually 24 and not at all a baby) and these guys were talking to her. I can't imagine they were actually meaning it, but apparently they thought that I was the younger of us.
That happens a lot.
Often people think I'm 24 or something. It's embarrassing to say it, because maybe it sounds like I'm trying to get you to respond in one way or another. It's an age. Quite seriously, it shouldn't even be something of which I'm wasting our (my? maybe nobody will ever read this...) time with here...

THEN TONIGHT...
Tonight I went to pick us some groceries with that same little sister who passed for older than me last night.
I hadn't put on any moisturizer because I was cranky and didn't bother doing a thing to myself. My car broke down in the middle of the road. I had a rotten day in general.
We were at the register and I paid $3.98 for some peppers and bread first. Then Susie got the rest of the stuff and I picked up the bags to walk away. She didn't see me pick up the bags and asked the guy at the register if she had more stuff. He responded, "Yeah, your mom already took it."





Again, I hadn't put any moisturizer on this morning.

Come hang out on Wednesday night. Hear some stories, drink some liquids and be awesome!!

A. I can not believe how much I accomplished tonight.
B. Help yourself to the blubes in the fridge. They are on their way out.
C. I am extremely excited to celebrate making it through the vicious stink-eye of a major storm.
D. Typing on this phone is not easy.
E. Stuff smells like Easter Eggs.
F. Pretty much thrilled.
G. Grover. G. George.

The Lady and the Nissan Acura

In the pouring rain this lady tried, coffee in hand, to get into her Nissan Acura.*
She kept clicking the button on her key, lights were flashing and the beep was loud.**  She fought for more time that people should with a door that didn't care. The man at the the table across but facing mine watched, unflinching. He seemed to lack the level of amusement I displayed, basically allowing my eyes to dart around the joint, praying that someone would notice and commiserate with me. We were dry and watching as her identical Nissan Acura whooped and glowed in the next spot over. Finally she realize what the man and I already knew and flung her arms and drink up into the falling rain.
The lady got into the Nissan Acura,  HER Nissan Acura and peeled out like nobody's business.
I wanted the stoic man to look at me.We shared this weird experience and he didn't even act like anything at all.

A few minutes passed. That man got up and walked out to his Nissan Acura, the one the lady wanted to get into.


Really, my jealousy is overwhelming. She should have attempted to get into MY car. She should have thrown her arms and coffee while I looked on, very no-big-deal like.

My new goal is hiding somewhere in these words.




* I realize technically there is no car called a Nissan Acura. Don't try to call me out on it. It's something I will continue to believe until I die of natural causes at an old age.

** I don't have a click-key button. I am both practical and cheap. I realize when my locks inevitably break, I will have neither the confidence nor the electronic know-how to comfortably play with wires. Instead, I will display vast volumes of chutzpah as I dismantle the doors in an effort to recreate levers and latches.

you are invited!

 

this is what i'll be doing tomorrow night.

and you are invited.

I have lost every phone number I ever had, in case you never hear from me again. (This might be a nice time to send a text of your name, or hello or something, if you want.)

and and and

all the fingers are crossed. the rabbits: de-feeted. candles be lit. prayers said. vibes netted. positive energies magnet'ed. hopes high. wishes made. spirits up. eyeses on prizes. wishes as fishes. et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. and and and. + + +. & & &. may we all have the kind of day we deserve. and may the day i deserve be so so good. and forever and ever amen. and and and. please and thank you. updates are forthcoming. oxoxen.

I wish I could remember some really great quote about taking care of yourself first. Maybe one of my improv peoples told me? Or maybe it was someone's mom? In any event, I just stood up for myself like WHOA while a stranger attempted to berate me and ruin my day. You chose the wrong person to pick on buddy. I lived through JUNIOR HIGH and came out a  vehement optimist.

Get Out The Sharpies

Diagram Time!! 

As a favor to the-guy-I-was-seeing-at-the-time's ex, I agreed to film a "Dating On Demand" profile. I guess she worked on the show in some capacity and they were still friends. He asked me and things must not have seemed so promising with him or something so I said yes. 

It was five or six years ago, so hopefully I'm getting the details right. Maybe the girls who were applying for this project were all aspiring actresses or didn't have quite the personality they needed. After filming the initial profile, somehow I end up getting called back to do an entire episode for a television show. They had us filming in "my" apartment. Notice "my" lovely collection of Barbie dolls, their leggy stems dangling, interfering with various camera angles. I haven't watched this in years, but I'm pretty sure the is a Halloween decoration/cat thing on the couch. The host complimented me on it and I offered it to her. She accepted and may or may not have walked off the shoot with a stranger's cat statue. I don't know that that made the episode. I do know they cut out my piano playing. I was supposed to be home alone, waiting for her to show up. In order to make it seem authentic I played Kum Ba Ya on the keyboard and sang very VERY seriously. I also tried to cook pasta for her.
It's almost done uploading. You get to see my first attempts at improv!! (Cringecringecringe!)

@11ysses

I'm taking section 52 in a collaborative project for Bloomsday!

We'll be rewriting James Joyce's Ulysses in a series of tweets. Each participant takes 8-10 pages and extracts from them the things they find most valuable or intriguing, turning the text into 4-6 tweets.



I've had a crush on that Stephen Dedlaus guy for some time now, by the way.

polar bear table!!

http://philadelphia.craigslist.og/fuo/2373288820.html

NOT LATE YET

"...age of marriage for those of Turkish descent averages 21 for women and 24 for men,while for those of traditional German ancestry, the ages are 29 and 32." Kathleen Stassen Berger, The Developing Person: Through the Life Span page 449

Sure, I didn't bother to properly cite my source, but my last name is Schmidt and the above quote aids in my feeling a great deal more comfortable with my lot in life. For your consideration-I've been very antsy about a good deal of things including but not limited to: my younger sister's upcoming wedding and my inability to start at Drexel this fall. (I've got to finish five studio art classes and can't possibly get it all done by September while remaining at my present full time job. That's right: I'm entirely crushed but still alive, just barely.)


At least now I have found solace in my rank as spinster for the next four months as a twenty-nine year old.








Also, me: married? That sounds sort of like a punchline.

I guess it has been longer than I'd like to admit since I last worked in bed, or on my bed. In any event, I'd forgotten how easy it is to have a pen's ink leak out all over clean white sheets. Really though, as much as I loved the plain pale plane, there is something undeniably appealing about ink stained splotches. The black wicked blots give this bed character somehow suiting of a disheveled girl.

current obsession

bottle house



LOOK AT HOW GOOD THIS SOUNDS
AND
SEE HOW NICELY THE LIGHT SHINES IN.



also, i love this guy + his home.

Within the last twenty-four hours I have dropped this little computer twice. I just pulled it out from under my passenger seat, following a very pleasant scented car ride home, to find it a bottle of Fabreeze had opened and it was basically floating in a puddle.

This HP Mini was a Valentine's gift a few years ago and I have to say: I so thoroughly and entirely appreciate it. I have tried hard to be gentle, but even the word choice here is indicative of my wild and haphazard ways. Swift did an awesome job of selecting a cute little machine that can somehow stand up to my excessive abuse. I have been dragging this piece around in my bag for the better part of three years, maybe? I can say with certainty that, even though I wasn't the one to pay, it is absolutely worth every penny and I would gladly recommend one to anyone.

Also, I finally got around to buying a proper case. I would just sew a new one whenever I decided to retire clothes or found some fabric I liked. But about two weeks ago I sucked it up and got a case that's got a working zipper, and it's adequately padded and seems like it will protect my little robot-guy. Of course, I figured the week I spend money on it would naturally be the week it would finally just stop working. I'm happy to report that we're out of the woods in that regard. Sure, the space-bar sticks from time to time, but if that's the most about which I can complain, things are pretty bright.

worst date

Generally, going to the 700 club means I'll have a fun night, probably I'll meet at least two people and I'll leave a happy albeit disheveled mess.

On what I'm pretty sure was my 23rd birthday I went wearing the most annoying pair of Keds you could imagine. I tried searching all over the internet for a picture of these shoes, but I guess Keds doesn't want a record of canvas low-tops with laces entirely covered in primary colored letters that don't spell a damn thing.

I wore these shoes, in any event. If I can find them I'll take a picture, certainly they weren't thrown away. They resulted in several phone numbers being handed over to me that night. They also worked other nights. I swear: these shoes had hypnotic powers.

One of the guys I met that night was less my type, but really cute still. We went out a couple of times and he seemed pretty decent. He was generous with compliments and though he didn't make me laugh on his own, his reaction to the funny things I'd say compounded my laughter, I'll take that. He was thrilled with my thesaurus-as-wallet technique and said he found my quirks to be endearing. SOLD! (In retrospect maybe I should have raised my standards...)

His parents lived in the suburbs, which helped too. He was going to be out visiting them and asked if I'd like to go out. He had their car for the evening, still I ended up driving to their house. We took their car out and somehow ended up in the parking lot of Kinkos in King of Prussia. As we were leaving he backed up--too fast and too hard-into a cement pedestal that supports one of those REALLY TALL parking lot lights. He pulled forward and, I think, backed into it again. Then he jumped out of the car and started to freak out. Hard.

I got out to check the damage (I'm really good at getting into car accidents. I'm also, as it turns out, really really good at repairing things.) Before I could show him what I perceived as the damage he was on the phone crying to his mother. He wanted her to wake up his father now. This was an emergency for crying out loud.

EMERGENCY.

To me, an emergency is when the airbags go off, or someone has a heart attack. Being more sympathetic, I'd also include a run-in with another car where the person is either unresponsive or really irate. An emergency takes place on a major highway, you're holding up traffic because a worm crawled out of the apple you're presently eating and touched your hand. You drop that apple fast only to have it roll under your break pedal. This causes you to rear end the car in front of you. Traffic gets held up and people honk and stare. That's an emergency I think.

This was not.
This was a minor "fender bender" that didn't even need to get reported to insurance, let alone parents. If the muffler were REALLY hanging off, I'd be concerned about maybe someone getting gassed somewhere down the road. But that wasn't the case. I know because while Chad was whining like a four year old, I'd gotten on my knees on the cold asphalt. I'd climbed under the car, craned my neck and took one look at the exhaust pipe. It just got detached. I took the caribiner off  of my key-chain, pulled the bobby pin out of my hair. I attached them to the metal that usually holds the muffler in place.
The things was fixed.
It looked fine.

He got off the phone, tears streaming down his face. We had to cut the night short. The car absolutely had to be returned to his parents house. He was talking about calling a tow truck. Finally he stopped and kind of cocked his head to the side. "Why are you on the ground?" he asked.

I didn't say a word. The part of me that's overly sympathetic and wants to take care of everyone entirely forever and ever had at last shut off. I pointed to the exhaust pipe. He joined me on his knees and craned his neck under the back bumper.

"I might love you." he said.




Silently we got back into the car and rode to his parents house. His dad, straight from bed, came out with a flashlight. His mom offered me tea. I wanted to leave but my manners got the better of me. Somehow I ended up inside with her. I guess she wanted to get to know me better. The "men" stayed outside for a little while. Finally they came back in. I was greeted with a hug from Papa Chadwick and his son looked on, eyes filled with pride.
I wanted to die.

Somehow I ended up driving him back to his center city apartment at what must've been 2 am at this point. He expected me to stay over which made sense considering the time, I was tired, etc, etc, etc. But I wasn't feeling it.

As we were driving, mostly in silence, I turned the music off, not wanting to ruin any song I liked by tainting it with feelings attributed to this dope. I remember focusing hard on the lights of Boathouse Row approaching on our left. "Thank God," he began, "I was with you tonight." It started out heartfelt enough. "Thank God I was with the smart one."

I kept my eyes on the road and the lights reflecting off the river and let him continue, digging his grave. "I mean, I could have been with the hot girl I'm dating. Instead, I got to get into the accident while I was with the smart one."



Pulling up to his place, somewhere along 20th and Spruce I left the car in drive and put on the flashers. "There's usually parking that way," he pointed. I nodded. He looked confused and hurt. I hate to admit that I felt bad, but I did. This guy had absolutely no idea he'd done something wrong. At this point I probably should have told him. I should have saved him from making the mistake again to some other smart girl dumb enough to get into a similar situation. But I didn't. As I pulled  away I realized I'd let him borrow several cds including the Decemberists and Paris Combo. My stomach churned as I imagined the hot one being impressed by his worldliness, Parisian gypsy-jazz sounds filling his pretty-nice place.

Then I imagined him, squished between her and a tow truck driver.

I have been carrying this diagram around for six years. It's in my wallet. Ask me and I'll gladly show you.

This Saturday night I'll be helping out at my friend's show, it's an improvised homage to Hitchcock.


Pulled right from their facebook event:
* Just 8 shows *
Runs April 15 - May 1, Fri - Sun at 8PM
NO SHOW EASTER SUNDAY

Sir Alfred Hitchcock is arguably one of the most popular and widely respected filmmakers in the history of cinema. Over the course of 53 films and more than half a century, Hitchcock commanded the medium like few directors before or after. Pioneering many techniques, styles and themes that were at one time revolutionary, and now in our time the standard,... he explored suspense and the human dynamic in exciting and innovative ways.

Over the course of the last several months, ten improvisers have studied, analyzed and explored the work of this cinematic legend. Marrying the knowledge and experience they've gained with the tools of improvisational theater, these actors will navigate the scenarios, archetypes, and tropes that are definitive of Hitchcock's films.

During a limited run of eight performances, suspense, intrigue and mystery will take center stage as the players spontaneously create worlds of tension filled with misfortunate heroes, troubled blondes, charismatic villains and fractured identities. A few simple audience suggestions set the stage for this Hitchcockian tribute wrought with fears, obsessions, anxieties and laughter.

Cast (in alphabetical order):
Mary Carpenter, Rob Cutler, Nathan Edmondson, Kristin Finger, Jessica Ross, Joe Sabatino, Alli Soowal, Jason Stockdale, Ashley Villanueva

Directed by Matt Nelson
Produced by the Philadelphia Joke Initiative

Tickets
$15 in advance at www.contactpji.com
$20 at the door

Latvian Society of Philadelphia

531 N 7th St

Philadelphia, PA

GIGANTIC CHECK!!

Following some medical problems my friend Cubby found himself in the hospital for a few weeks--WAY TOO LONG considering he doesn't have health coverage right now-and of course the bills will be piling up.

Cubby performs  with Whipsuit monthly, when in good health (FIST SHAKING.)  He wasn't able to make it out to O'Neals for their regular show. In an effort to help and offset his costs as best we can, a bunch of improvisers participated in a show spearheaded by the other half of Whipsuit, Rick Horner.

Following the event, while walking out of the bar with a GIGANTIC CHECK prop, I was stopped a number of times. Without ever actually requesting contributions, the power of a massive banknote raised interest and awareness for a worthwhile cause. I got the opportunity to talk to a bunch of really good people. We shared stories, I heard songs and one girl even took off her shoes (I'm still not sure why, but she seemed genuinely concerned about the situation.)

I am absolutely astounded and impressed by the inspiring actions of so many people who took interest in the life of a stranger.


Thank you so much guys, it was beautiful and amazing.

Oh, and to the girls with whom I chased the runaway hat: HELLO!!!

Information on Cubby's performance projects, for those who expressed interest:
Whipsuit
Revival Burlesque


The acts that performed in the name of Cubby:
Suggestical hysterical musical made up entirely on the spot)
Horner + Davis
Rintersplit
Iron Lung

presently making up for ten years of art-lazy.

On my fourth visit to pick up shoes from Diana, Priclncess of Heels, I found the shoppe to be very much closed. The sign on the door said he would be opening at one. Yesterday he told me to come in any time, he would be there from 9-4. Instead I looked at pictures of the Royal Wedding and read detailed accounts of research to cure cancer. I admit it: I feel slighted by a man three times my age. 

When a stranger is crying that moaning-hurting-cry, and the language they speak isn't the same as the one you do, you feel helpless. Deciding whether it's okay to turn around and see if they need the comfort that you won't be able to provide, or whether you should continue staring out the window to give them as much privacy as a hospital lobby can offer is difficult. So now, with so much I should be doing, I'm feigning busy and becoming increasingly cowardly because when I've cried in the hospital, I can't remember for sure, but I think I just wanted to be left alone.

in which an episode of RadioLab moves me to tears

This deserves more time, but I have to at least mention: http://www.radiolab.org/popup_player/#listen=/audio/xspf/91693/%3Fdownload%3Dtrue

That episode of RadioLab, with the piece on the Mayor, gave me goosebumps.

Stop it!! THIS WORKS. you guys!! I can't believe it took me twenty nine years + seven months to be more of the whatever-type-this-type-is type.

When I make public my goals, hopefully I am that much more likely to follow through. That being said: I am going to make every effort to be a more friendly and sincere member of society. Eye contact, smiles and BEST manners are the key components. This isn't something that is a major problem, I can and do handle myself pretty nicely, but only half the time. Instead, a concerted effort will be made to listen more and talk less. I am going to start now, getting into this long bathroom line behind people that might usually intimidate me in some way. Instead: hey! We all gotta pee, right?


eye contact
smiles
improved manners
more listening

updates on successes and failures are, of course, forthcoming.

three weeks: up. panic: setting in.

Yesterday marked twenty-one days since I received confirmation from Drexel regarding the receipt of my application and essay. At this point I should have been contacted if they wanted me to interview.



Needless to say: I am borderline losing it.



On the plus side: I just drew an adorable picture of a rodent!!

the wiz

I've been vegetarian for almost twenty years. I blame this on the owner of the most fantastic pair of overalls you could ever imagine. I need to find or make a picture of them.

(Parallel: in some ways they may be similar to that horrible dress.) The bib of the denim overalls presented the viewer with an airbrushed rendition of a kitten playing with a yarn-ball. The yarn-ball was rolling away but the kitten was also slightly, noticeably off-center. Her name, "Jeanette" went down one of the legs--in cursive, but down anyway. As a 6th grader I found this really upsetting. Script should read left to right, not top to bottom.

These fancy pants were created by someone who was in "The Wiz." That memory is distinct. It seemed strange that a teacher should be wearing jeans to school. It seemed strange that an adult should be wearing overalls in public. It seemed strange that an adult should be wearing images of a kitten at all.




She talked about meat and used as a source what must have been The Teacher's Guide to Upton Sinclair, First Edition. I was scarred. Hearing about the "little yellow tablets" put into globby oil to color margarine had a terrible impact on me. The composition of hot dogs ruined me completely. That day, I threw away my ham sandwich. Probably we all did. I never ate meat again.

I didn't think it was that bad.

This is really embarrassing.

After work I went to several stores looking for various birthday, baby, shower and wedding gifts for all of the happy, lucky people in my life. After two hours of waltzing around in public I met my mom who looked at me with an eyebrow raised. "What is that?" she asked nervously.
I turned red and looked down expecting to find a sticker or cheerios stuck to my boobs. Nothing there. I swung my head around, thinking maybe she saw something when I'd turned at some point. My back was clean too.
I looked at her, my brow matching the shape of hers.
"I have no idea." I sad vaguely, waiting for her to get specific.
It turns out she didn't like my dress.

She couldn't believe I not only bought it, but wore it. Wore it to work. Wore it to go out.

I found it pretty surprising considering it's been in the occasional-rotation. It's far from my favorite piece, but it's really comfortable and it wasn't cheap.



About twenty minutes ago I was standing in the kitchen hanging out with my little sisters. (They're 27 and 23, I talk about them like they're both eight.) Kathy looked at me and, in the middle of discussing the amazing pretzels we just finished baking says, "You're really good at making weird and delicious food out of nowhere but what are you wearing?" My jaw sort of dropped. I looked to Susie, the 23 year old with impeccable style for some support.
"Yeah." she agreed. "It's dumpy. Maybe it's too long. And the waist is low. It's just bad." They felt the same way my mother had. I looked at her, waiting for more. "You didn't go anywhere in it, did you?"
LONG PAUSE.
"No," I started, almost lying to save myself for the humiliation that comes with admitting you've spent an entire day in something terrible. "I just went to work and Wawa. And I went shopping for a few hours." I work with preschoolers. They (most of them, anyway) don't care what you look like as long as you're fun. I crawl on the ground. I paint. Today we made green eggs + ham. I also made "oobleck." I was covered in powder and pigments for the majority of  day.
I had no idea this dress was so bad.

My family used to joke about submitting a video for "What Not to Wear." Fortunately that stopped about six months ago. Now that I think about it, they stopped talking about it shortly after I bought this.

OH NO. Now it's occurred to me...I think I was wearing this maybe three months ago. My friend made a comment about how I looked ready to teach kindergarten. At the time I figured it had to do with the fact that I was going to or coming from work. Second guessing that assumption. I thought it was a cute thing to hear. I thought he meant it as a compliment.

This is so stupid. It's black, simple, I bought it last year at the gap. It's cotton, a racer-back. The dress has pockets. I wear a shirt under it with leggings and boots.
The dress that's earned so much attention?

new goal!!

new goal: never iron just one thing again. 

every time i go to get dressed and realize something is wrinkled i immediately yearn to be much more like my younger sister who has all her ducks in a row (alphabetically, probably.) it my hope and objective to, going forward. always iron what is needed right then along with another article of clothing that would otherwise slow me down at a later date. i just finished pressing a dress for tomorrow, followed by a skirt i should end up in within the week.

were i performing calulations, according to them, i'd venture a guess that within a month everything should be wrinkle free.

maybe this will be referred to as my "strike-whilst-the-iron-is-hot initiative." 

well, this is a little embarrassing...

it was recently brought to my attention YET AGAIN that i never finished writing about date #12.
it's been a month and a half and then some since that date ended and i don't even know that i'll get all the details in order but this is the attempt:


i crashed my car on that monday night, following trivia date in west chester. i was driving to see my friend milkshake. some guy was parked perpendicular to the median on route one and my car was totaled. m.s. rescued me from the cold road and took me out for coffee. at that point he heroically became mr. #12. major relief.

backstory: i met m.s. in february. he facilitates a weekly improv workshop with the hilarious and amazing rick horner. (both of these guys are worth checking out if you're looking for a fun evening involving lots of laughs and also probably running into me.) i admired m.s. from the start. as the year progressed and i got to know him better i liked him more and differently. he is the kind of guy who will dance and do his thing and the enthusiasm is contagious. we talk a lot and i'd been filling him in on the project all along. as the month drew nearer to an end i figured he definitely wouldn't be a contender. it was almost like he knew too much. that's why i was so surprised when he offered to fill the twelfth spot.

first we attended a new year's eve party at my sister's house. the first party involved: so. much. food. a chick-fil-a party tray which was somehow the sun around which all else did orbit. lots of babies. noise-makers and hats. masks. what resulted in a boot polish-off.

we left there around ten and headed in to philadelphia to attend another party at our friend ralph's house. this was our original plan so he got off easy in regards to coming up with a date-night event.when we arrived at the party some of our friends were like "hey guys. oh! how did your last date go?"

when talking about it, i left it kind of vague only mentioning that it was going to be on new years eve with someone i already knew. at that point i had to get all smug and start pointing like a smart-alec/hitch-hiker with my thumb. "why don't you ask him?!"

this elicited some excited responses mostly amounting to "what an adorable ending!" it's true. it was pretty freaking cute.

we played rock band which i thought i hated until i found out that some people have real sized instruments and an enormous catalog of songs from which to choose. it turns out you can play that until 4am happily.

the countdown and midnight came and left and for those keeping track or nosy, no, i didn't partake in some dreamy and romantic public kiss, ok? but that's awesome because i was in a room of amazing people and we all hugged and were happy and that's more than good enough for me.

it was over a month ago, as i said earlier, so some details escape me.

i will say this: it's really nice to go out with someone with whom you're already comfortable. any physical contact is kind of cool because you've got the same "hey-this-is-a-date-and-so-we've-got" tension as with a stranger, but the familiarity level is there. it has what i'd perceive as notes of a new high school relationship. kind of awkward because you've got mutual friends somewhat aware of your situation. (i say this as if i know for sure. when i was in high school i was devastatingly unpopular in this regard. fact: my prom date was flown in from florida. he's an amazing guy and i was so so lucky that it happened that way, but really self? you couldn't find some dude in state?)

m.s was also the only one who didn't end our date asking to see me again. granted, i do see him a couple of times a week. AND we did spend the next day together. actually, i ended up dropping him off at work so he needed to see me again in order to get home. my mentioning this is less a realistic observation and more a faker-pain-in-the-neck-wide-eyed-in-disbelief girl move.


sincerely, it's harder to press the "publish" button on this post than most of the others. the only other guy that caused me anxiety was #6, i think? the one who didn't end so well. but this is about someone i know who i am guaranteed to see again so anything i say can and probably will cause a little embarrassment on my end. but i've been totally straightforward and honest up to this point so no denying things now. oh hey, i'm still stalling. enough of that. it's four am.




i'll tell you about the overflow dates later. i feel for people with the face-recognition-memory-loss disease.

i am trying desperately to remember some of my favorite stories. i've got a stack of index cards and no memory.

the "REACTED, CREATED!" manifesto

There was a fire in the hospital on the day I was born. There was a flood that day too. A man drowned in his car. I realize it sounds like some kind of apocalyptic tale. Maybe it is and I just don't know it yet. If that's the case though, and maybe the Mayans were on to something after all, I plan to leave behind a decent representation of life in America as I saw it.

I will be turning thirty in September. To celebrate, (I swear this isn't a whole "Hooray + Let's Celebrate the-Life and-Times-of-Cara-Schmidt Event") I'm going to spend the next several months compiling stories and constructing corresponding dioramas to illustrate the happenings, events and ideas that have shaped and inspired us. Of course, unless I get feedback from you, it will be more about the things that have influenced just me, and that won't be as interesting.


for consideration:
i. if you come across some amazing fabric scrap/mystery screw/busted-up costume bauble i'll take it off your hands and incorporate it into the work.
ii. should you support my efforts with ideas or artifacts i'll gladly sing your praises and promote your projects.
iii. for images brined in brackish pop-culture backwater i intend to stick to lower-grade building materials. should the tableau require reverence i will make every attempt to use more appropriate supplies.

the plan, as of now:
i. weekly i will state the year of focus.
ii. i'll tell a harrowing tale and ask if there is anything you can think of that seems to be more worthy of illustration. there's a great chance you'll have a thing in and mind and i'll appreciate you for it.
iii. a diorama/shadowbox of sorts will be created.
iv. by the time my birthday rolls around thirty vignettes will sit in a row. i'll try to find a way to show them, ideally this will coincide with a party!! come to my party!!

catalysts:
amusement.
excuse to write more.
inspiration for creating boxes.
obscuring stress associated with waiting*.
using some of the thousands of rhinestones i have accumulated.

*i've applied to and am dying to hear back from drexel. i am hoping to get my master's in art therapy.


ridiculous:
there are just enough weeks, if i start now, to have everything done for my birthday. good timing, self!!

from workshops to walmart (more from intro to art history)

As the person who isn't responsible for great things I can't deny the pangs of envy that I feel when hearing about others with workshops staffed by those less talented--but talented no less-than the master.
Just because we're looking at art though, we have long attributed the entire piece to one individual. Only recently has it come into vogue to have those others who have helped with the work be recognized. When hearing a symphony though, people are more often familiar with the composer. Only those who are curious or with interest can tell you that what we're hearing is the Berlin Philhamonic Orchestra, for example. Taking it a step further, maybe you're really into Herbert von Karajan's reign as conductor from '54-89. You might have a specific musician who you prefer and NOTICE when they do something differently.
And for people that knowledgeable, for those who care that much, it might mean something. We might care to know that Rubens didn't do that landscape. It might mean something to the more seasoned observer.
The general public does not require that attention and information.
Where would we draw the line?
We've got this big box store: Walmart. Most people can tell you Sam Walton started it.
They carry, I don't know, domestic-wares endorsed by Martha Stewart, for example. That's going to be good enough for most.
Most people won't find it necessary to know further: Who really designed the product? Martha didn't.
Who built the prototype?
Who worked in the factory?
Who discovered the formula to create the resin from which it was made?
Who created the mold from which it was cast?
Who packaged it?
Who created the packaging?
Who inspected the final product?
Who grew the grains to grind to bake the bread?
Really, really, how far must we take it? Credit to all--while nice in theory-would utilize a lot of ink, make packaging really ugly and create a great deal of additional expenses on the part of the manufacturer. I'm imagining a tree chart starting with one "Master" name at the top, and as it breaks down lower and lower, more and more names from which to choose...things are getting out of hand.
It's like field day in a contemporary elementary school.
Everyone's a winner here.
No feelings are hurt.

i know i'm super late with updates.

thinks about which i will write ASAP:
how date twelve went.
meeting people when your memory isn't what you thought it was.
dead animals where you least expect them.
more dates.
follow ups.
constructive criticism from a self proclaimed expert.
running into these guys later.
real-deal crushes.


i need a thousand hours in a day for like...one day.

every semester i start out so motivated and think i'm going to get serious and things will be more awesome than i can express.
every semester i try to include one class that's not required "for fun." i pick something about which i'll be thrilled to learn and buy the inevitably extremely expensive text book. about three weeks in i find myself wondering about the decision.
this semester i could cry.
i'm worried that i'm essentially buying credits in art history. i've taken art history classes before and i LOVE them. i love looking at slides and discussing the impact society had on the things in which we find beauty. i love hearing what other people think. i get upset about responses, i argue. i'm a pain in the neck. i get defensive. i end up keeping the professor late because i want to keep the conversation going.

instead, and i knew going into it, i'm taking this class online.
i just opened this week's "slide show" and see before me 1:36:37 of part i of the class material. the first six minutes were a black screen with a voice telling the viewer that we'll be looking at the high renaissance, venetian and mannerist work.
my heart, once again sank.
i can't fault anyone but myself.
i want the dialogue though. i've got these headphones on and i'm isolated entirely. the last three minutes have been a blank screen with no talk. the meter is running.



more important: people are sitting next to me. the girl to my left had never heard about spring break and just arrived from europe. she's telling fantastic tales of nudity, debauchery and drinks. i am in the wrong conversation. she was, as one might imagine, horrified.
she went all the way to daytona beach and just wanted coffee. all she could find was: people driving on the beach. boobs.
HILARIOUS.


more time has passed. nothing is new on the slide-show front.
(i recently posted my thoughts on thomas kincade. that's something i used for the class discussion forum for the art history class.)
i need to get more interesting.

it's february. i spent 3 days sick and sleeping and eating pizza. as rotten as it was, it was also awesome.



sometimes people want to tell you that "ring around the rosie" is about the black plague.
plague doctors sure are scary.

but today i heard an alternate version on the song. instead of the standard "ashes, ashes we all fall down!" the lady said "hasha, hasha, we all fall down!"

and i realized something. at first everyone laughed at her, but it made sense:
what if you sing it with "atchoo, atchoo! we all fall down!"
--maybe someone is sneezing because they've just filled their pockets with posies?
if done right, i can nearly knock myself over with a sneeze.



yes, ladies and gentleman, i've done it.
i've turned a blog about dates and being single into a dullish rambling on art history lectures and my interpretation of baby-poems.


let's also add this:
one of da vinci's illustrations from this weeks lecture is included below, it was his death machine.
i put some notes of my own on it.

oh, let me clarify: i don't think anyone wanted to scare me or threaten me or anything like that. rather, i think they just left them out and i found them and they read a lot of "fantastical tales" or something.



somehow i think i managed to tie this all together.
art history>isolation>being an outsider at spring break>viewing the grotesque>my interpretation of kincade>being sick>the black plague>ring around the rosie> being sick>disturbing/grotesque inventions>isolation>da vinci.





(taking a bow, exits, stage left.)

oh hey, let me just say this:

Seriously, if Thomas Kincade found something that works for him, that's fine--for a while. But the man has been pumping out essentially the SAME THING over and over. If you've seen one quaint cottage, you've seen them all. He, much like boy bands and girlie pop-stars found a thing that sells and continues to reproduce it with slight variations. His longevity and continued appeal is beyond me. I admit, I'll fault him for it partially out of jealousy, but also because man, it's getting old.
How about Wyland:

He is basically the T.K. of the tropics. I want, so badly, to compare him to Jimmy Buffet, but I feel as thought Jimmy Buffet is more diverse in his talents. He also writes AND owns some restaurants (yes, I called investing a talent.)

(one of my favorite things to do/one of the most romantical things of all time is this: writing/studying alone but sitting with someone else doing their own reading/writing/work while drinking coffee/tea.)

more date-related updates tonight, i mean it!!

but in the meantime: i might be moving to baton rouge, la?
from:

Matthew  <mxxxx@xxxx.com> to Amy Txxxx<atxxxx@xxxx.com    cara schmidt   <caraaschmidt@gmail.com> date Mon, Jan 24, 2011 at 10:24 AM subject Staffing this week

hide details 10:24 AM (6 hours ago)

Let's Discuss this list:

Staffing this week:

Tasks to do list:

BC:

1. Data center wall.  (needs ) Matt

2. Inserter room (wants ) Amy

3. CEO Coffee Bar- (Amiee to set up Alonzo to revise the rendering)  Amy

4. Security Building- Matt

5. All projects- Meeting notes (completed- Nate to review and send out) 

BR:

1. Issue ASI for finishes- Amy

2. Issue ASI for Lobby revisions- Matt

3. Send back the aluminum submittal- Matt

4. Revise finish boards to new finish selections- Cara

to which i replied:

Matt,

I'd prefer to do the CEO Coffee Bar, honestly. This must have made its way to the wrong Cara Schmidt though. I'm in Pennsylvania. Let me know if I should read up on Finish Boards.

Thanks,

 Cara

leading up to date twelve

i was supposed to be updating this on a regular basis. unfortunately i got busy with the start of a new semester, applying to grad school, shopping for a replacement car and doing my best to remain optimistic during the time of year that brings me down the most.





when my car was lost on that monday following date #9 i called milkshake. he immediately came to my aid like the good friend that he is. as we walked away from my car it hit me hard that i wouldn't be able to go to do a lot of things:
- go on date ten to the story slam.
- make it to new york for the talent show.
- get all of the dates in by the end of the month.
- necessarily get a new car by january 3 to return to work.

my biggest concerns (i know, i realize the last on the list should be most important...) were getting to new york and finishing all the dates. it was freezing and my fingers, i was convinced, had detached from my hands. they were just sitting in their rightful slots in my gloves. i wanted to cry but was too cold and too upset. besides, though i'm extremely comfortable around this guy, the last thing i wanted to do was cry to him. he'd just done me a big favor and i didn't want to get all over-the-top, etc.

some really good things came out of this whole nightmare: he changed my question. i thought it was "am i going to go to new york?" he made me realize instead that i needed to begin it with "how..." get a rental? take a train? a bus? just go. yes.
he recognized that we'd planned to go to a party on new year's eve, so instead of having dates 10, 11 & 12 on tuesday, wednesday and thursday, just make the last night of the year the last date of the project. i admit it: this is something i'd wanted to ask him, but with everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes i kept my mouth shut. when he suggested it though, it was a tremendous relief. were this a movie of my life, i'd be hearing some adorable singer/songwriter. i'd get my final date in. it would be with someone who i actually really care about and it's on a night that is kind of momentous: last night of the month AND year AND my project deadline. WOOHOO!!
also, we got coffee and i got a cheese and pepper sandwich. that was pretty good. yeah, all around good night. oh, also worth mentioning: when i posted on facebook that i'd lost my car my hysterical friend tom whitaker responded with: "ALL MY WORK!!!!!!" he's a great guy and has put in way too much time changing my headlights, and and and. in writing it, i realize i've lost a lot of what's funny about it, but just trust me, ok? here i am, sitting in some 24 hour brown and orange cinder-block restaurant eating a meatless cheesesteak. i've just lost my beloved car and it's three in the morning. my friend hears about this accident and his initial response is concern about the time he spent checking a headlight. trust me. hilarious.


so now i've got all my dates lined up. i am delighted.

date eleven

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't disappointed that i haven't heard from #11 since our date.
jon was polite and handsome and contributed interesting things to the conversation.

i met him at fiume for some bluegrass. we talked, listened and looked at pictures in each others phones. (funny how that's a normal thing to do.) a third of the way into the evening we left to put coats in my car. it was hot up there and nice to take a little walk. i thoroughly enjoyed this guy and can't help but wonder what it was about me that made him say he'd see me again, but not actually follow up on it.

(that's one of those things that is really getting to me. he and #2 both seemed to enjoy the evenings, both expressed interest in getting together again, but neither of them have made any attempt. and, as expected, they are the two that are now eating away at me most. drives me crazy, absolutely crazy.)

we talked about ideas, projects and motivation. he told me about the dance party machine which, by the way, is extraordinarily awesome. in discussing this we met some guy who apparently does electronics on sculptures. had i not been a total slacker, i would have networked the hell out of the situation and at this point we would all be in a room with a moving box, flashing lights, and a fog machine to keep the energy up. (note to self: accepting invitations.)

when the night was done jon walked me to my car and i drove him home. at this point, he paid me the best compliment i have ever received. i left smiling. when i got home 35 minutes later i still had this dumb smile plastered across my face.

i feel as though I should write about date #13 because was originally supposed to be date #10. the circumstances surrounding this guy were interesting, all thing considered, even by my often skewed standards (for example: is it ever ok to share a toothbrush with someone? I don't say no. this has resulted in various discussions.)

but then, at what point does it stop being a project and start being too much information by a girl who should maybe consider investing in a filter?



but trust me, this one was pretty interesting.

boots are the new bag

chapstick. credit card. id. keys. lotion. money. notebook. pen. phone. scissors. sunglasses.

oh, he!!o 20!!

this is the year to get totally thrilled!!
this is the year to get tota11y thri11ed!!
this is the year to get tota!!y thri!!ed!!





date 12 just ended, I guess you could say.



overall I am amazed, excited, inspired, optimistic, up and sometimes yours.

I'm going to sleep but the updates will be overwhelming. I let too much time lapse. oops.