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."
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
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!!
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!!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, February 4, 2011
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.
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.)
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.)
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