Clean and Elegant

Clean and Elegant

Wednesday, 25 January 2017

It seems you can get a brand. Of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. In your ankles

It seems you can get a brand
Of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome
In your ankles.


I am begging for the Michaels
To dispel my fears
Of MS.
I dreamt Lily was born
She weighed eight pounds
And had a beautiful voice.

My body is of a deep service.
There are no Robert Munsch novels.
Tis the season for Thomas's snowsuit.
The plastic in the window have folds.

The End.


Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go
Bodhisattva Business Ventures
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Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
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I Do Not Know How To Fulfill My Enormous Potential
The O's in the Toto have Hats
Not Separate From All That Is
 

Tuesday, 24 January 2017

Jade Egg

On the way to the St-Michel Flea Market,
We passed a Validation Centre.
It looked closed and I
Forgot to take a picture.

Objets désirés, objets trouvés.
Most would refrain from buying such things used.

A man held our jade eggs in his dark rough calloused hands.
Dirt filled the crevices.
We got a special deal.


The alarm bells have been ringing for quite some time.
You wish life could be solved by sticking a jade egg up your vagina.
How long have you been holding your breath.

The End.

Objets désirés, objets trouvés
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go
Bodhisattva Business Ventures
Slash
Free Spirit Dharma:
 
Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)

Instagram: montrealhippiethreads


The Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse
What People Really Need
The Performative Love Letters
 
 

Monday, 23 January 2017

My Ego Throws Up When I Won't Believe It

Self-Compassion. Cervical Orgasms.
Which one of these will you master?
My ego throws up when I won’t believe it.
I really wanted to put that sentence somewhere.

There are pancakes that transcend Aunt Jemima.
You put them in the toaster
Just like an Eggo Waffle.

Toaster Ornament, St-Michel Flea Market
As a child I was forbidden from such things.
All the Cheerios came unfrosted.

Push on the toaster. The Eggo pops up.
The Ego,
The Pop-tart,
The Bagel.

Everywhere in Ontario, the bagels sound different.
Today I get to go visit Vincent.
I hope that his weekend was pleasant.

The End.


Ego Wrapped in Cellophane
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go



Bodhisattva Business Ventures
Slash
Free Spirit Dharma:
 
Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)

Instagram: montrealhippiethreads

My name is Erica. I love coffee.
Yours til I'm a Post-Modern Literary Genius
Memoirs of a Brief Affair
 


Saturday, 21 January 2017

I Do Not Know How To Fulfill My Enormous Potential

I Do Not Know How to Fulfill My Enormous Potential.

Two titles for Unwritten Books:

"How to Fulfill Your Enormous Potential."
Or,

"I Don’t Let Go, the Sequel to the Only Self-Help Book You Ever Needed."
Erica J. Schmidt Does Not Let Go. I do not.

All the books are about the Two Stubborn Parts.
One Stubborn Part says, “You will fail all the life report cards.” The check marks will fall on the most mediocre boxes. She did not fulfill, and she was not fulfilled.

Stubborn Part Two says, “Please let me be Okay As Is. I want this desperately. Long for it. Okay As Is, OAI equals Enough.”
You don’t need to be Coherent. You don’t need to Manifest Aspirations. We’re just happy you’re still alive.

Did I love the Married Man as soon as I met him? No.
Am I ovulating? Yes.

Sometimes there is no space around how you are feeling. I tend to melt down every Monday and Friday. Mostly I’m just about done before noon.
The Astrologist who doesn’t want to be my Cuddle Friend suggests that I rename my meltdowns.

Name your Wounds. Rename your Meltdowns. Meltdown equals A Rebirth.
So you’re reborn every Monday and Friday? And why not.

Is Irving Layton dead yet? What will Obama do now?
Oh Irving. Oh Leonard. Oh Margaret and Obama.
Oh and oh and oh.

And oh.
I am not focussing on the breath behind my navel. I am holding the Sharpie. They run out so quickly.

Vincent is my therapist and he had never heard the English phrase, Navel Gazing. All this time did he think it was Belly Button Gazing?
Sharpie outlines Sex and Self-Esteem/Navel Chakras
How old is Vincent and what does he do on Saturdays?
 
Privacy. Pathology.

The clotheslines are on Sabbatical. I think I will lie down and stare at them. Are they in the grey skies, or below?
 
Pre-Sabbatical Clotheslines
Most people don’t get to fulfill their innermost potential.
They feel hungry and tired and lonely and horny and poor.
They feel these things, or they are these things.

They do not get to vacillate between lattes.
The End.
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:
 
Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)

Instagram: montrealhippiethreads

The O's in the Toto have Hats
Five Days of Creative Recovery
Deep Unyielding Depression, Part One

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Yours til I'm a Post-Modern Literary Genius

Hi Everyone! Sorry to leave you hanging on the Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse. I'll announce the fascinating conclusion soon. The following post was meant as a Facebook status update for my new business, Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt. Deep Cleans involves me sparking joy in other people's houses. As fate would have it, the post ended up being a little too long for Facebook, and so I decided to publish it here.

Yours til I'm a Post-Modern Literary Genius

Parting with the written word can be difficult. Everyone possesses at least one shoe box if not several crates of old course notes, journals and handwritten letters. Certainly going through these boxes later on can bring laughter and deep joy. Also, everyone wants to channel this material into the book they’re going to write in all their spare time. And how is that book going, everybody?

When I opened my boxes from Halifax last week, I came upon a FedEx envelope of a romantic personal correspondence from 2005. At a CPR course, upon performing a pretend secondary body check, my partner concluded, “Well, looks like you’re in pretty good shape.” Once the course was over, I delivered a rambly verbal machine gun speech. In it I must have mentioned how I believed that we could change the world by writing letters, by being pen pals. My CPR partner’s name was Cavan Van Ulft and he was eager to try and change the world with me.

For the next month or so, we wrote letters back and forth. He was living with his parents in Nepean, while I was working at an Easters Seals Camp. Cavan Van Ulft sent each letter in a brown 3 by 5 Manila envelope.
“Miss Erica Schmidt,” he would write in the first address line. Beneath this, he’d write a flattering and eloquent caption.

“Warning! May be habit-forming or addictive,”
“Post-modern Literary Genius,”
“The prettiest girl on the prettiest street in the prettiest town in Ontario.”

Cavan's Letters
His letters were always meticulously composed and handwritten on plain white paper. Both of us always wrote back immediately upon receiving the other's letter. My stationary varied from long thin strips of cardboard to red and blue paper, in case either red or blue were his favourite colours. I sealed many envelopes with frog stickers. “Sealed with sticky frogs,” I'd written on one envelope. Another time I included a lock of my hair.

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Dear Cavan,

Maybe your favourite colour is blue, or maybe it is red. Or maybe I should send you a fill-in-the-blank worksheet for you to send back to me. So that I will know your favourite colour. I could also ask you whether you prefer my sentence fragments to be written on stationary with straight lines on it or on blank sheets of blue and red (or some other colour) My next though might have been, do you maybe wish there were fewer sentence fragments and more complete sentences. Or vice versa. Unfortunately, however, this potentially brilliant series of complete and fragmented sentences was interrupted by a phone call.
It was you! I had piece of lettuce stuck in my teeth the whole time and you never said anything! How embarrassing. After flossing and brushing away lettuce and gingivitis (if I’m lucky), I have laid myself down in preparation for sleep…

My Letters
8 July 2005

Re: “Money is nice but it can’t hold hands.”

Dear Erica,
Your letter was beautiful! Thank you so much for sending it. I read it over and over. And the gifts you included in the envelope are amazingly thoughtful. It is very postmodern. Especially the bumper sticker.

(The bumper sticker was inscribed in blue and black markers, “Everything comes down to one thing,” it said. “The single key to mastering human existence is.”)
It is very postmodern. You know by now, no doubt, from my list of favourite things, that my favorite style of art is suprematism, so I am very into ambiguous messages that require input from an audience to be understood. So I think it’s just great. And also very clever…
You are constantly surprising me, exceeding my expectations, and delighting me. You are pretty irresistible, as far as I can tell. So don’t you dare stop – ever.

The Post-Modern Bumper Sticker
There are few people in the world who can compete with me in their eccentricity and intensity. Likely, Cavan Van Ulft was one of these people. The last time I googled him, it seemed he was trying to become the prince or ruler of an obscure island somewhere in the arctic.

During one of my days off at camp, I went on a “date” with Cavan. My parents drove me to Ottawa and dropped me off at the Rideau Center, where Cavan and I wandered around and he revealed his taste in jeans. Cavan was nice enough; however, I realized right away that my imagination had gone overboard, and that our in-person experience was doomed to be infinitely less exciting than our riveting correspondence. As tactfully as my 19 year-old self knew how, I told him so in my next letter.

Within a few days, I received a priority post FedEx package at camp. It contained all of my letters. The frog stickers, the postmodern bumper sticker, my lock of hair, photos of my dog.
In the weeks that followed, Cavan sent me several emails with the words, “PLEASE SEND MY LETTERS BACK” in the subject line. I believed this was ridiculous and have kept the correspondence ever since.

Rereading Cavan’s letters now, I now appreciate that they are absolutely exquisite.

19 July 2005

Probably as a result of the intense heat wave that we have been going through, the scent of your lock of hair has permeated both pages of your last letter and its envelope. In the slight breeze that's been blowing in my back yard, it has made everything around me smell like you. It is absolutely delivious. The only problem is that I frequently get lost in thought while sitting outside re-reading your letters and I think slightly sunburnt... because I kept taking deep breaths and zoning out and losing track of time. But it's wonderful nonetheless...

Everyone should be so privileged as to be the recipient of such generous and inflating epistles. I feel some regret at writing Cavan off as some crazy nut. I think he does deserve to get his letters back. After inhaling one last spark of joy from my favourite missives, I am going to try and track him down, to return his side of this unreplicable correspondence, and to wish him well.

The End.

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:
 
Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt
Hippie Threads by Erica J. Schmidt
 
The Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse
The Tidying Festival
Yours til Ekam Inhales
 
Cardboard Box

Friday, 2 September 2016

The Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse

This morning I sent a message to Jess Beaulieu and Natalie Norman, hosts of the podcast, The Crimson Wave. The Crimson Wave hilariously addresses all of my favourite topics: menstruation, sex and vaginas. I wanted to tell Jess and Natalie all about my latest menstrual project, The Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse.


Natalie and Jess of The Crimson Wave
Like them on Facebook! That's where I got this photo.

Friday, September 2, 2016

Dear Natalie and Jess,
How are you doing?!? Soon you will have completed your 108th podcast which is such an exciting and auspicious number. Congratulations! My friend Kyle Stevenson told me about you ladies since back in 2013, I was inspired to gather all of my menstrual blood in a peanut butter jar and post the photos on the Internet. The post, “Menstrual Blood, Peanut Butter,” remains one of my blog’s most viewed posts of all time. In addition to MBPM, my blog chronicles a significant portion of my Menstruation Memoirs. Menstrual Memoir posts include:


Exalted, which ponders over Seventeen Magazine’s Ask Anything question, “Why do I always get the runs when I’m on the rag,” as well as explaining the term, “Peanut Butter and Jam.”




Menstrual Memoir Photos
I have also written relatively extensively on pubic hair. One of my life’s great achievements is that when you google “Peanut Butter, Pubic Hair,” my face and my blog come up. Same thing for “Spiritual Beard, Secular Vagina.” Here are the links to both of my treatises on pubic hair.  
Peanut Butter, Pubic Hair


Me, post 400 rupee Waxing in New Delhi. November 2015
I am writing to you because I wanted to tell you about my latest menstrual project. It is called The Magical Rock Vagina Cleanse. For the last few days, in preparation for my period, I have refrained from wearing underwear. Now that I am menstruating, I have resumed underwear as it allows me to safely transport a purified magical onyx right next to my crotch. The magical rock/onyx is supposed to absorb negative energy from all my life’s vaginal trauma and disappointments. On August 31, 2016, I wrote my last brilliant epistle to the Generic Married Man. I am hoping that the Magical Rock Vaginal Cleanse will help me to forgive his colossal haiku and pen pal debt. My friend who inspired me to do the cleanse said that she wouldn’t be surprised if the magical rock also helped heal the pockmarks slash infected ingrown hairs that have arisen as a result of my most recent 20 dollar waxing job. That would be a huge bonus. Those things are horrendous. Once my vagina is finished bleeding, I am going to part with all of my underwear, since each pair has travelled to India and back at least once and it is time to let go. I am not yet certain how I will dispose of my underwear, but I know that I will throw the magical rock into a large body of water. The body of water will likely be Lake Ontario, since I’ll be visiting my sister in Toronto next week.

My Magical Onyx is in my underwear, but  typically Onyx looks a bit like this.
While I am in Toronto, I would be delighted to meet up and discuss my Magical Vagina Rock Cleanse with you. Perhaps you can be part of the Rock Throwing Ceremony. It would be such an honour to meet you both. If next week doesn’t work, perhaps we can reconvene at a later date at which point I can enlighten you on the long-term benefits of the MVRC. In any case, I look forward to continuing to ride the Crimson Wave within my own personal journey, and collectively, as you two incredible divas have inspired me to do.
Yours in Onyx and Menstrual Blood,

Erica J. Schmidt.

My cousin is getting married this weekend and I think I will wear this dress.
I hope the Magical Vagina Rock does not fall out.

The Crimson Wave Podcast
Ride the Crimson Wave on Facebook
Follow the Crimson Wave on Twitter: @thecrimsonwave

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go by Erica J. Schmidt


Not That Kind of Girl
Performative Crying in Alleys
Memoirs of a Brief Affair
 

Friday, 26 August 2016

Three Easy Strategies for Feeling Smug and On Top of Life

“I don’t know anybody who has lots of time who is happy,” Fern told me on the phone a couple weeks ago as I whined about my long angsty days, void of life purpose. The thing is I don’t know anybody who’s so busy they can’t think who is all that happy either. When I have too much to do, I feel violated and oppressed. Too little and I become self-loathing and miserable. How then, does one acquire a smug sense of being on top of life? I offer you the following three brilliant suggestions:

1.       Organize your Tupperware drawer.
 
I have a saying that goes, “Everyone loves a good Patrick.” My other saying is, “Most people’s Tupperware drawers are a total disaster.” It’s true. Very rarely have I ever belonged to a household whose Tupperware organization system did not lead me to fruitlessly search among melted and misshapen containers for equally ill-fated or non-existent lids. The quest typically generates more chaos in the designated Tupperware area and consequently, life seems far beyond the winning. Fortunately, you can make the decision to conquer your home’s receptacle mayhem.
 
In my life, I have had the enlightening experience of meeting at least two Tupperware Revolution Theorists. One woman, who also happened to give me my first Brazilian, recommends limiting yourself to three sizes, all of the same shape. The problem with this is that roommates and perhaps also partners generally come with a vast spectrum of Tupperware variation and they don’t usually like it when you chuck their things. Thus, this sort of Tupperware Revolution is not available to everyone. A second Tupperware Revolution Theorist suggests only storing your Tupperware with the lids in place. Sadly, this is close to impossible if your kitchen possesses any sort of space limitation which is almost inevitable. X-nay that, but thanks anyways.

You will have to discover the Perfect Tupperware Revolution that resonates with your soul and your kitchen. Everyone’s Tupperware Revolution is personal; however, certain universal principles apply. For example, throwing out mismatched, melted and/or super disgusting Tupperware is non-negotiable. So is wiping out any sort of crud or crumbs that have somehow made their way into your Tupperware drawer or cupboard. Don’t hold back. Trust me, it will be highly rewarding. Once you’ve decided which Tupperware continues to spark joy, it is time to arrange the plastic and/or glass vessels in the most logical fashion possible. I’m pretty certain that it’s better to keep lids and bottoms close together, but as I said, we are all responsible for our Personal Tupperware Revolution. For optimal smugness, be sure to take before and after shots.
 
The Waverly Household Tupperware Revolution
 

2.       Send Mail.

Sending mails requires extensive and empowering grown-up skills such as buying stamps, looking up postal codes on the internet and walking to the mailbox. The other selling point is, nobody ever died or cried from getting a postcard. I derive immense joy and satisfaction from sending people mail. This summer, I was delighted to come upon a man who sold vintage animal postcards in front of Metro Laurier. They were only fifty cents each. I bought dozens, mailed dozens, and it was so fun. Unlike Generic Married Men, whatever happens, animal postcards will always be there for you. 
 
 
 
Animal Postcard, Camel with Humps.
 
3.       Wash all your bedding and put your duvet back in its cover.
  
No need to get laid to wait until washing your sheets. The satisfaction of fresh clean bedding is everyone’s birthright. Having said that, the task of inserting your duvet into the appropriate corners can seem monumental. It’s almost worth settling for a mediocre partner just to have someone to help you with this. But believe me, if you persevere, you will succeed, and you’ll feel so smug and on top of life. Apparently, there are special tricks for flipping your duvet magically and effortlessly into the right corners. I don’t know much about this. You can’t be smug about everything.
 

Duvet-generated Smugness
 
The above activities are perfect examples of what you can put on your Ta-da List. A list that you make at the end of the day, the Ta-da List serves to officialise all of the day’s accomplishments, large or small. While to-do lists may generate pressure and performance anxiety, Ta-Da lists ensure smugness and fulfilment, even when your day was void of viral tweets and cervical orgasms. At the end of the day, do not let yourself hit the pillow in despair. Consider your commitment to Tupperware, personal correspondence, duvet covers or some other noble endeavour, and luxuriate in the truth that you are, indisputably, on top of life.

The End.
 
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, self-help book by Erica J. Schmidt


Tips for Getting on Top of Life, with Gretchen Rubin

Business Ideas, on a Tuesday
Performative Crying in Alleys
The O's in the Toto have Hats
The Tidying Festival