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