On Improv-ing and Improving (Blog #617)

What the frick? Apparently my online blog editing software has been updated and is now different than it’s been for the last two years. Ugh. So far I’m not impressed, having to learn new things for Christmas. Seriously, nothing is where it used to be. It’s like someone’s rearranged my entire bedroom. Whose bright idea was this? (I can’t find my underwear!) And where the hell did the spell checker go?

Bah humbug!

Okay. This morning I went to see my primary care physician, and I’m guess I’m a little upset about that. Not that the visit didn’t go well–my doctor is awesome. But she looked at my recently injured knee and started talking about surgery and rehab, so it looks like that’s going to be a thing. And whereas I’ve been assuming it would be, there’s just something about hearing someone in a white lab coat say so.

Like, “Better get used to those crutches, kid.”

In other personal medical news, I’ve been short of breath lately, and my doctor mentioned the word “asthma.” Seriously, is this what growing older is about–daily adding to your number of problems? One day you’re fine and the next you have a list of ailments as long as your arm? (Don’t answer that.) Anyway, I took a (short) breath, then my doctor said, “WELL–since this started AFTER your upset stomach [another problem of mine], it’s possible that the two things are tied together; your reflux could be affecting your airways.”

So that sounds–um–promising.

In other news, I may have psoriasis–but only on one elbow!–and it would probably help my stomach if I started a new diet. Ugh. This sounds like a lot of work. I mean, when you hop around on one leg, you eat what anyone (that is, your parents) are willing to feed you. Anyway, I’m telling myself I don’t have to do anything this red hot minute; I have time to figure things out. Plus, my doctor said people usually fall into one of two categories–healthy or not-healthy (there’s no real middle ground, she said), and being healthy is simply about 1) not smoking, 2) getting enough rest, 3) eating more greens and less processed foods, and 4) exercising. “That sounds simple enough,” I said.

“In theory it is,” she said, “but we live in a world where there are Whataburgers.”

So you know what I immediately started craving for lunch.

Okay, phew. I apparently “found” the spell checker when I typed “Whataburgers.” It’s invisible. That is, there’s no button for it because it’s always on.

Like me. (Ba-dum.)

When I got home from the doctor’s, I took a nap, but it didn’t do anything to improve my mood. I just can’t even right now. (Wake me up when December ends.)

Now it’s five in the evening, and I need to eat dinner and get around to go to the Fort Smith Little Theater. Last night was opening night for our holiday variety show, and everything went really well, including the two improv skits I was in.

Here’s a link to the first skit, a musical improv number that involved everyone in the pictures I’ve included in tonight’s blog. (The pictures were from dress rehearsal a couple nights ago.) The skit has it’s highs and lows, which is the case when you’re making stuff up on the spot (all of us) and don’t fancy yourself a singer (me). That being said, I’m super proud of the first “mini-skit,” which involves me and a high school student I’d never worked with one-on-one before last night. The setup is we’re at Walmart for Christmas, and he decides we’ll be father and son. (Guess who the father was.) He starts by saying, “Dad, how long are we going to be here?!” and I say, “Well, we’ve been here for six hours, and we’re halfway through the line–you do the math.” So he starts doing the human calculator thing–“6 times 24, carry the 2, divide by 12” and keeps scratching his head. Finally I look at him and say, “This is why we don’t have a bumper sticker about you on the back of our car.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKpVGSX5rWM

We’ll see how things go tonight. In last night’s second improv number, my friend Wesley and I were pretending to be siblings outside in the snow, and we were “filling in” our lines with random Christmas carol lyrics we pulled out of our pockets. At one point I got mad and said, “Do you know what I’m gonna do?” and pulled out a slip of paper that said, “Santa Baby.” Well, it took a second, but the audience just died laughing, at which point Wesley said, “I guess we all have our preferences!”

Having been asked to keep the show PG, I wasn’t sure if we’d crossed a line. But what do you do in a moment like that–how could it have been avoided, exactly? Plus, considering the fact that my mom didn’t “get it” when I told her about it later, it’s not like a kid in the audience would have “gone there.” But this is my point–there are certain things in life that you can’t prepare for. Words come out of your mouth, and problems show up in your body just like that. So we do the best we can. We improv. With any luck, we IMPROVE.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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On Moving Forward (Blog #615)

[Photo credit: Joel Culberson]

This afternoon I took a shower and put on a pair of stretchy jeans. I normally wouldn’t brag about such things, but after injuring my knee this last weekend, both showering and dressing myself have become activities worthy of praise. (Way to go, Marcus!) No kidding, it’s hard enough to squeeze myself into my jeans standing up, let alone lying on the ground while trying to hold my left leg completely still. And you should have seen me trying to put on my dress shoes; I had to get my dad involved. “Don’t you have a shoe horn?!” he said.

“No I don’t have shoe horn; I’m not eighty!”

Anyway, Dad ended up slipping my shoes on with a spoon he found–I assume–in our dishwasher. Talk about being creative AND helpful. That being said, I know my dependence is wearing on both me and my parents. After I got dressed and got into my car to run errands in Fort Smith, I honked my horn because I remembered I’d forgotten to brush my teeth and was hoping Dad could bring me my toothbrush–and toothpaste–and maybe a glass of water. (Getting out of car and crutching my way to bathroom would have taken forever.) Anyway, when Dad came into the garage and I told him what as going on, he said, “Oh no you didn’t forget to brush your teeth–your teeth are just fine–they’re very pretty.”

But then he went inside and brought me my toothbrush and toothpaste, and Mom brought the glass of water. What a team!

This afternoon my friend Bonnie and I went to four different stores in search of an outfit for me to wear for the holiday production I’m in at the Fort Smith Little Theater this week, since I decided I felt “frumpy” in the elf costume the theater gave me a couple days ago. Y’all, this is not an experience I care to repeat on crutches ever again–getting in and out of the car, going from store to store, perusing up and down the aisles. Seriously, I’m ready for this ordeal to be over. Ugh. My parents reminded me that when my sister hurt her knee and had to have surgery (and go through physical rehab), they lived with and helped her out for nine weeks. Nine weeks! I’m trying to let that possibility sink in. “Just be grateful you don’t have two little kids running around,” Mom said.

“Yes, that would be quite the challenge,” I replied. “Thank you for making me gay.”

At our third stop, Bonnie and I found an ugly Christmas sweater for me, and at our fourth stop, we found red and silver tinsel (and other supplies) for decorating my crutches. This was Bonnie’s idea, to make my crutches part of my holiday costume. “They can be your candy CANES,” Bonnie said. Talk about clever. Anyway, then we went back to Bonnie’s house, and I changed shirts (and put on a holiday hat that Bonnie had), then Bonnie and I wrapped my crutches in tinsel and added a stocking to one crutch and a stuffed elf to the other. Check out the finished products. (I’m in love.)

As I’m only in two skits for the show, I spent most of my time at the theater tonight on a couch in the green room with my leg propped up. While waiting for my first skit, I got a text message from a friend who’d heard about my dance injury, and he suggested a new nickname for me–GRACE. Isn’t that perfect? Anyway, tonight’s show was a dress rehearsal, and it went well. Actually, our musical improv group did as well as ever. Maybe a few dozen people were there as a test audience, and it really made the biggest difference, having that added bit of pressure.

[Photo credit: Joel Culberson]

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m in the living room with Mom and Dad. Earlier they made me dinner, helped me get my shoes off, and brought me some ice packs. Also, they switched out my tinsel-clad crutches for a walker so I don’t spread little strips of glitter all over the house. A walker! Now I really feel like an old person. (I should probably just break down and buy that shoehorn.)

So this is my reality. This is my holiday season. Mostly likely, this is my new year. And whereas I hate having lost my normal mobility, I’ve realized that I’ve taken “two working knees” for granted my entire life. Watching people run around the shops and the theater tonight, I thought, You probably have no idea how good you’ve got it. Or maybe they do. One of my friends at the theater tonight said she’s been on crutches A NUMBER of times. For me, I’m reminded how persistent the human spirit is, since it’s willing to crawl, scoot, crutch, or even walker around in order to get from here to there. To buy an ugly Christmas sweater! I guess we all do what we must in order to keep moving forward. Hopefully we do so with grace.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

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Oh Boy (Blog #613)

Two days ago I injured my left knee during a dance routine, and this afternoon I saw a friend of mine who’s an orthopedic surgeon about the matter. Y’all, he took one look at my swollen leg, and these were his exact words–“Oh boy.” Talk about bad news. Later, after his staff took x-rays, he said there was “a small fragment of bone” floating unattached–toward either the front or back of my kneecap. (I’m assuming this isn’t normal and was also bad news.) “We really need to get an MRI,” he said. “That will tell the whole story, then we can go from there.”

So now we have a plan–wait for the hospital to call and schedule the MRI, get the MRI, then go back to see my friend the doctor. In the meantime, he gave me a knee immobilizer, this fancy situation with three steel rods in it to stabilize my leg and protect it from further damage. As for how to take care of my knee, he said I could use ice or heat or “whatever makes you feel comfortable,” but that nothing would really increase or decrease the rate at which I heal. Ugh, healing. The topic of surgery has already been brought up. In other words, this could take a damn while.

Merry Christmas, Marcus.

I spent this afternoon and evening at the Fort Smith Little Theater getting ready for our holiday variety show, which is this coming weekend. I’ll be in two skits–a musical improv skit, which I discussed yesterday, and a two-man improv game called What’s My Line, during which a friend of mine and I will make up a skit on the spot and have to work in audience-provided lines that we pull out of a hat mid-performance. In tonight’s practice game we were two siblings in the backseat of a car (on the way to grandma’s), but our relationship and location will change based on audience suggestions each night. If this sounds terrifying, just rolling with whatever’s thrown at you, IT IS.

Here’s a picture of our set and two of the other musical improv actors.

In both the musical improv and regular improv numbers, there were hits and misses tonight. That’s the deal with improv. It’s like a box of chocolates. Sometimes you hit on something really super–a great character, a delightful relationship, a wonderful line. At one point this evening, I became a four-year-old named Walter, and everything just clicked. Probably because my emotions lately have been about as stable as a toddler’s. But then other times you fall flat on your face. In my last musical number, I was a dad who took his daughter to Disney World and ended up saying, “The holidays are awkward. That’s why your grandma drinks. Also, your mother and I are getting a divorce. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear at Christmas.” At which point our musical director said, “Well THAT took a dark turn.”

I mean, sometimes life takes a dark turn.

I guess it keeps things interesting.

Personally, I’m fed up with “interesting” in my life. Lately my energy levels have been low, and now that everything from going to the bathroom to plugging in my phone is has become a major production, I’m more physically worn out than ever. But you know–I’m trying to be pleasant, to not totally withdraw and feel sorry for myself. This is why I didn’t bail on my commitment to the Little Theater, why I’m slowly dragging my ass out on stage every night despite the fact that I’m embarrassed by my crutches and–I realized tonight–wholly jealous of the other cast members, who get to dance, jump about, and otherwise make use of both the knees God gave them.

That is, I’m trying to roll with what’s been thrown at me.

(Tonight this costume was thrown at me.)

This is definitely a challenge, going with the flow, or, as Teresa of Avila says, breasting life’s rough waves joyfully. Personally, I’m so tired of “soldiering on.” This afternoon while listening to Neil Diamond sing, “Money talks, but it don’t sing and dance, and it don’t walk,” I started crying because I thought, I don’t dance or walk either!

Seriously, life can a lot sometimes.

Now it’s almost midnight, and I need to get to bed because I have an appointment in the morning and need to wake up early enough to shower. Granted, I’m not sure HOW I’m going to shower, but after three days of NOT showering, I feel like I should. This afternoon I stood on one foot at the sink and took a “whore’s bath” with a washcloth, and that just didn’t get the job done, if you know what I mean. Anyway, we’ll see what happens; we’ll see what life throws at me tomorrow.

Oh boy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing is set in stone here.

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And Now for My Next Trick (Blog #612)

After injuring my knee yesterday while performing a dance routine, I spent last night in my mom’s recliner. Since I tend to toss and turn in the middle of the night, I was afraid I’d make things worse if I were in my bed. Plus, my bed’s a waterbed, and I imagined getting in and out of it wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. Ugh, it’s amazing what you take for granted when you’re well and healthy. Last night and today my parents have had to do everything for me–get me my toothbrush and medications, plug in my phone and laptop, hand me my pillows, make my breakfast. And whereas I did manage to dress myself for the day, I had to lie down on the floor to do so, and my parents had to tie my shoes.

This afternoon, with the aid of crutches I borrowed from my aunt, I made my way to The Fort Smith Little Theater to rehearse for an upcoming holiday variety show that I committed to being in a few weeks ago. And whereas the original plan was for the entire improv comedy group I’m in to perform in the show, it ended up being just me. So today I joined with several junior high and high school students to prepare for a musical improv sketch–you know, the kind where we sing songs about random situations the audience suggests. Anyway, other than my having to sit for most of the rehearsal, or simply stand there on crutches while the others danced about, it was great fun. Not only did I learn some new things (I’ve never done MUSICAL improv before), it was good to get out of the house and be around the young and vivacious.

That being said, I kept looking at those teenagers thinking, Be CAREFUL with your legs! Don’t take your knees for granted!

After working at the theater, I drove to a friend’s house in Fort Smith to pick up another pair of crutches, since the ones I got from my aunt were a couple inches too short for me. My friend’s husband handed me the crutches and said, “And now for my next trick!” Hum. I’m not sure if that’s as funny on paper as it was in person, but it really did make me laugh out loud. I got this image of me about to do the stunt I did last night and saying, “Hey, y’all, watch this.” Whatever. As I told someone at the theater today, the part where I jumped over my friend’s head went really well, I just didn’t stick the landing.

This evening I’ve been planted in a comfy chair in the corner of our living room with my legs propped up on an ottoman. Mostly I’ve been scrolling through social media or reading a book. I think I fell asleep at one point. I really haven’t felt that great today. I’ve been tired, worn out, and slightly nauseated. Emotionally, I keep bouncing back and forth between Everything will be all right and If one more frickin’ thing goes wrong, I’m going to absolutely snap. In this moment, I’m leaning toward the second viewpoint, and I’m okay with that. What I mean is that so often when life throws me a curve ball, I immediately put up my defenses and formulate “a plan.” For instance, in my current situation I’m already thinking about going to doctors, doing physical rehab, and coming out of this thing “better than ever.” But THAT thought is honestly more exhausting than my knee injury, and what actually feels good in this moment is to simply sit with this feeling of overwhelm, to really get okay with not being in control or having all the answers.

But back to the theater. Improv comedy is hard enough, but musical improv is even harder. I mean, you’ve got this guy playing the piano, and when it’s your time to make up a verse, you really can’t stall for more than four bars. If you do, it gets awkward. But the advice that was given to us today was 1) your verses don’t HAVE to rhyme and 2) if you can’t come up with a good story, just state the facts. For example, we sang a song about stars, so my “just the facts, ma’am” verse went like this: “Stars are bright / Stars do twinkle / Stars are far, far away / They make me smile.” My point is that often I try to take my difficult circumstances and turn them into poetry, like this isn’t so bad because look at what I learned. However, sometimes this is simply too difficult to do, especially when the shit has seriously hit the fan within the last twenty-four hours.

So if I were to sing a song about what’s going on with my leg, my first verse would go–

My body’s tired
My knee is throbbing
I’m oh-so-very frustrated
I feel like I could cry (if only I knew how)

Then the chorus would go–

This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
No more straws for me

I know this “woe-is-me” tune isn’t profound, but as our musical improv teacher said, “It’s the truth, and the truth is interesting, compelling, and beautiful, and it certainly gets the job done.” That is, saying something simple yet truthful is better than standing there with your thumb up your butt and not saying (or singing) anything at all. Of course, staying silent is tempting; it’s terrifying to create on the fly, to have NO IDEA what’s going to come out of your mouth at the moment you open it. But that’s the darling thing about improv. Sometimes you hit on something really lovely. So I’m trying to remember this, that I don’t have to have a plan for healing (or even my life), that I don’t have to know what my next trick will be. Rather, I can simply start with the facts–I’m hurting, I’m overwhelmed–and see where this truth takes me and how it sets me free.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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On Dance Rehearsal (Blog #610)

It’s two in the morning, and I’m in Springfield, Missouri. After spending the morning packing and getting ready, I drove here this afternoon to practice with my friend Matt for our upcoming dance routine. Matt and I met at the ballroom where he teaches–The Savoy–about five and worked for a couple hours, mostly on our lifts and jumps, as well as one move that I told Matt I would practice this last week but didn’t. (As our performance is tomorrow, I think I’m just going to end up faking it. It’ll be fine, I promise, I’m a professional.) Anyway, then we went out with our friends Anne and Andy for sushi followed by frozen custard. Then we all came back to the ballroom, where Matt and I worked some more.

Y’all, sushi and frozen custard are not the thing to eat before dancing.

Considering the fact that Matt and I just started this routine two weeks ago and have only rehearsed two other times before today, things are coming along well. That being said, we ended up cutting one of our lifts tonight because not only did we think the move didn’t look good enough, but we also kept hurting each other trying to do the damn thing better. Oh well–we replaced it with something less challenging but just as fun, a trick I can practically do in my sleep. And whereas my inner perfectionist wishes we could have nailed that first move, I’m reminding myself that we’re doing this whole thing FOR FUN and NOT for perfection.

Here’s a picture of ANOTHER move we’ve been working on.

Sometime after midnight, Matt and I called it quits. Our bodies pretty much insisted on it. “Stop,” the said. “We’ve had enough. Just who do you think you are, anyway–Superman?” But then instead of going to bed, we decided to run to Walmart to buy undershirts for our costumes so our routine shirts don’t end up with giant sweat stains on them. The only problem was that we left the ballroom DURING a tornado warning. Y’all, this is why men die before women–we do stupid things like running errands in the middle of a thunderstorm. Anyway, we were fine, seriously. (To quote Matt, “I didn’t see a tornado anywhere.”) However, we did get soaked running from our car into Walmart. And get this shit. The manager, who was standing at the front door with two cops when we ran up, told us that the store was closed until the tornado warning was over. “You’re welcome to wait here in our shelter for the next thirty minutes,” he said.

“Do you want to wait here?” Matt said.

Picturing myself locked in a backroom with a bunch of strangers for half an hour, I said, “NO I DON’T WANT TO WAIT HERE!”

So back we ran to our car, then back we drove to the ballroom, which is where I am now (without an undershirt, I might add). Hopefully I can get some rest, then tomorrow Matt and I can go back to Walmart, run through our routine a few final times here at the ballroom, then perform it tomorrow night (back in Arkansas). I’ll let you know how it goes.

Now all I can think about is how everything hurts and how badly I want to go to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All your scattered pieces want to come back home.

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A Delightful Day (Blog #609)

Things that happened today–

1. I felt better

After dragging ass for over a week and SERIOUSLY dragging ass yesterday, this morning I woke up feeling like a regular human being. And whereas I can’t say for certain what caused it, I’m attributing my increase in energy to the probiotic I occasionally swab inside my sinuses, which I did last night. Who knows? Life is a mystery. Regardless, I’m learning to be grateful for any and every “normal” day.

2. I got into the holiday spirit

This afternoon and evening I helped a friend decorate the outside of their house for Christmas. As this was their first time doing this, we started with a trip to Walmart for lights, cords, and fasteners. Then we put lights in the hedges and draped one of their trees. But before we could wrap the posts on their porch, I had to go back to Walmart to get lights with WHITE cords and NOT GREEN cords because–we realized–their posts are white, and they “couldn’t bare” for things not to match. Anyway, it was a small project, but it turned into an all day affair, since we both had to leave to attend previous engagements but decided to meet again later in the evening (after ten) to finish up.

Here’s a picture of the final product.

3. I saw a musical

During my break from decorating, I attended Alma High School’s production of The Addams Family, a musical. (A few of my friends that I worked with backstage when The Wizard of Oz was in town invited me, and last week I actually helped paint one of the set pieces.) Anyway, the show was fabulous. The school really does do such a phenomenal job with the sets, costume, and lighting. And the kids! You wouldn’t know that they were in high school.

Here’s a picture of the graveyard set. Talk about seriously creepy and cool.

Here’s a picture of the living room set, which includes the piece I worked on. (I painted the stairs and handrail.) It’s not much in the grand scheme of thing, but every little bit helps!

4. I thought about my ancestors

Otherwise, I worked on my photo organizing project earlier today. I’m so close to done I can almost taste it. Then I talked to my parents about some of our family history, which was in part prompted by my project, and in part prompted by a book I’m reading about families, trauma, and healing. I’ll say more about it later, but the book points out that–for better or for worse–your entire family structure is part of your story and plays a big part in your overall mental and physical health. Coincidentally, tonight’s musical featured The Addams’s dead ancestors, whom they said couldn’t rest until there was peace with the living. Anyway, I think it’s interesting, the way the universe can deliver up the same message in multiple ways. Get your past sorted out.

5. I gave myself a break

Now it’s almost two in the morning, and I’m doing laundry because I’m getting up early tomorrow and going out-of-town to rehearse and perform a swing dance routine with my friend Matt. And whereas I wish I could post this and pass out, I still have my nightly routine to go through. So in an effort to be kind to myself, I’m ending things abruptly.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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On Being Distressed (Blog #604)

It’s just before midnight, and my body is in rebellion. First, my energy meter has been in the red all day. Second, the muscles in my back are on all-out strike. I’m not sure what it is. My shoulder’s been jacked up for a couple months now. I should probably do something to fix that, like other than hope and pray about it. Because that ain’t working. Nor is Tylenol. And did I mention that I have dry skin on my right elbow? Ugh. It’s all so overwhelming.

I’m just falling apart.

Yesterday a high school senior in Alma I met while working backstage at The Wizard of Oz invited me to come paint sets with her for the school’s upcoming production of The Addams Family (a musical). So this afternoon I took the opportunity to get out of the house and out of my head. And whereas it was tough on my body (my right shoulder is seriously pissed about my decision to make it work), it ended up being the perfect thing for my soul. First, there were other people there, so I got some human interaction. Second, I pretty much got an entire set piece–the stairs–all to myself. So I got to do what I wanted. Well, three of us did put the base coat–brown–on the stair rails and spindles, but then I put on a second coat of gray and a third coat of black solo.

Here’s a picture of where I left things this evening about 10:30. To be clear, someone else did the walls. I just worked on the stairs and railing.

It takes a village.

Here’s another picture from the side of the stairs, closer up, so you can see the different colors. Adding gray and black on top of the brown is one way to make new wood look old, and in theater, sets that have had this done are referred to as being “distressed.” Once they add in the correct lighting–Voila!–it’ll look totally creepy and kooky (and all together ooky).

Distressed. That’s how I’ve felt lately. Not only is my body out of whack (it’s hurting as we speak), but I also don’t know what to do with my life. Better said, I don’t know HOW to make my dreams come true. This is a tape that plays constantly in my head–that I SHOULD be doing SOMETHING more than I am–but I don’t KNOW what that thing is. Talk about stressful. Meanwhile, I really don’t feel well enough TO BE DOING any additional work. So in my best moments, I try to be thankful that I have time to rest, take things easy, and figure things out.

Recently I read this poem by the mystic Rumi–

The spiritual path wrecks the body
and afterwards restores it to health.
It destroys the house to unearth the treasure,
and with that treasure builds it better than before.

Boy, if that first line doesn’t make you want to be spiritual, I don’t know what will. Seriously, I’m always saying I don’t recommend this work, and here’s yet another reason why. Your body will suffer. Let’s put THAT on a church billboard and see who shows up on Sunday morning. That being said, the part about the body being restored sounds pretty delightful. Ugh. I’m personally still waiting on that part, the being-put-back-together part. And that’s okay. Things are better than they were a year ago. Really, better than they’ve been for the last twenty years, at least in terms of sinus infections. I haven’t had one of those in about eight months. That’s huge. Plus, it clearly takes time to distress oneself, so it’s only natural that it would take time to un-distress oneself as well.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."

On Creating New Things (Blog #598)

Last night’s dance in Fayetteville was fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. First, I had so many wonderful dances. Second, I saw and got to catch up with an old friend from high school. Third, I met some darling new people. One lady, a fellow dance instructor–hands down–made my entire night. We got into a delightful conversation. “I’m monopolizing your time,” she said. “I’m enjoying it,” I replied. Lastly, when the dance was over, my friend Matt and I went out to eat, and it’s always good to catch up with a friend.

I didn’t get home until 2:30 in the morning.

Almost like I have a life.

This afternoon Matt drove down to Fort Smith, and he and I met at our friend Bonnie’s house to work on dance stuff. We’re performing a routine together in less than two weeks, and we’re just getting started on it. (As the saying goes, there’s nothing like a hanging to focus one’s attention.) So for over six hours today we wracked our brains and bodies while choreographing and rehearsing. Meanwhile, Bonnie and her husband Todd were kind enough to make sure we stayed nourished–Todd made soup AND pumpkin pie. Matt and I each had three pieces. Talk about having a life. This is the kind of life you want to have.

I don’t remember the last time I put together a dance routine. Within the last year I participated in a group number that Matt choreographed for his troupe in Springfield, but it’s been ages since I’ve been part of something from start to finish. Creation to completion. Creation–that’s something Bonnie brought up tonight. “It’s fun to create new things,” she said. And to think that’s what Matt and I did all day.

Created a dance routine, created memories, created soreness in our hips.

Matt and I used plenty of familiar patterns today, but there’s something about figuring out WHERE to use them, making sure they fit the music just so. That’s creating too, like an author finding the right place for the right word. I love this sort of thing. Plus, Matt and I started working on a couple new aerials and polishing up some old ones. This is often a good way to injure yourself; tomorrow we might not be able to get out of bed. But this is also really fun–a challenge!–a fantastic way to push ourselves and improve.

Let’s hear it for challenges.

Here’s a slow-motion video Bonnie took of us doing a traditional frog jump with a “ninja kick” styling. It’s the same move we’re doing in tonight’s featured photo.

Now it’s nearly one in the morning, and I’m done for the day. Done, done, done. At least my body is. My mind is still racing, thinking of what all needs to be done, practiced, and perfected before our performance. But I also need to get to bed. I’ve got to be up early in the morning, and–ugh–I’m not looking forward to it. But this is Thanksgiving week, so I’m focusing on the goodness of last night’s and today’s events, the delightful company of my friends (one of whom I’m getting up early for tomorrow), creating new things, challenges, and–hum, what else?–Tylenol and Ibuprofen.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."

On Being Committed (Blog #592)

It’s 8:00 in the evening, and it’s been dark outside since 4:30. What the actual hell? I feel like it’s midnight. I’m SO TIRED. No kidding, I’m about to pass out hibernation style. Like for the entire winter.

Somebody wake me up when it’s March!

Earlier my parents, my aunt, and I went out for dinner at–get this–3:45 so we could get the senior citizen discount at Furr’s Super Buffet. It’s sexy, I know. Y’all, I “sort of” controlled myself with all the food options, but still managed to scarf down a salad, two full plates of mashed this and cheesy that, and a dessert. My insulin was like, “What do you think I am–a miracle worker?!”

Hum. Insulin. Maybe that’s why I’m so sleepy.

Anyway, this was honestly the highlight of my day. Meatloaf that’s been keep warm under a lightbulb.

Before we went out to eat, I worked more on sorting old photos, and I’m continually amazed that in many cases I can’t put my finger on what year something happened. Today I tried to organize photos of when our old swing dance group, The Big Bad Jittacats, performed on The Dr. Pepper Stage at the fairgrounds. Eventually, I gave up on about twenty-five percent of the photos, since we were out there SO MANY TIMES and everything just blends together like–I don’t know–a casserole does in your mouth.

Maybe from this point forward I should start wearing a different uniform each year. Then when I look back at photos I’ll know–Oh yes, 2018, the year of yellow spandex and red suspenders.

Or whatever.

Currently I’m blogging on my phone because my internet (my hotspot) drags ass during the afternoon and early evening hours. I assume because everyone else is on the network. Last night while I was writing at three in the morning, it wasn’t a problem. Unless you consider going to bed just before sunrise a problem, which I’m starting to. Anyway, so this is a compromise–phone blogging now in exchange for a decent night’s rest later.

Am I at five hundred words yet? That’s my goal for tonight. Then I can get ready for bed and not feel like I “have” to stay up forever.

Just before I passed out last night about 4:45, a friend from overseas messaged me online and said, “Are you awake?!” Then when I said yes because of the blog, they said, “I admire your commitment.” To which I said, “Most days I feel like I should BE committed.”

Like to an institution.

Along these lines, my therapist asked recently if I felt COMMITTED to the blog or OBLIGATED to the blog. After pausing to consider the difference between the two things, I said, “I’m committed.” This was apparently the right answer, since I got a Tootsie Roll when our session was over.

I’m not sure why I bring this up now, other than to say I think it’s a good thing to ponder if you’re thinking of taking on a big project, whether that’s a creative endeavor like writing a blog or a personal one like going to the gym or getting married. Because if you feel obligated to whatever it is, chances are it won’t last. Either that or you won’t (without becoming resentful). But if you feel committed to your idea/goal/person, well that’s a different matter. Not that it’s a guarantee of success, of course, but at least it’s a better starting point.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even if you can't be anything you want to be, you can absolutely be who you were meant to be. Don't let anyone else tell you differently.

"

On Creating (Blog #584)

Yesterday I picked my laptop up from the repair store. And whereas we originally thought the liquid-damage repair would involve replacing the keyboard and cost $250, they were able to fix it with a simple cleaning, which cost $65. Woowho! Thank you, Peter, Paul, and Mary!

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

Last week I blogged about The Unexpected, an annual mural-painting project in downtown Fort Smith. Well, one of the muralists, Alexis Diaz, had to leave before completing his project. (It was raining, and paint doesn’t dry well in the rain.) Anyway, he’s been back in Fort Smith this weekend, and I stopped by yesterday after picking up my laptop to take a look. Check it out.

Here’s a picture slightly closer up that includes the artist (on the lift). I can’t wait to go by this week to see his finished product.

After viewing the mural, I went to a brand-spanking new venue for local artists called Eleventh Street. It’s on Eleventh Street (duh), and two of my friends opened it so local teachers, students, and other artists can have a place to create, display, and even sell their work. I think it’s such a great idea. Anyway, this is where I spent the rest of the evening, getting a tour from my friends, talking about their ideas for the place, and hanging out.

And by hanging out I mean, drinking wine out of a box.

Check out these cool masks. I think (?) they were done by local high school students. (How many more times can you say local, Marcus?) My favorite is on the top row, the next to last one on the right, the one with its mouth sewn (or stapled) shut. I guess I like it because it’s how I felt for most of my life–speechless, voiceless, unable to communicate my truth. Of course, all that’s changed now (and continues to change), so even better that the mask is pale white, the color of a ghost or that which is past.

Here’s a picture of a cool mural painted on one of the building’s walls. It was done by a–uh–nearby artist. Make up your own life lesson. (Be sure to share it in the comments).

This afternoon I worked more on my photo-organizing project and got really hung up when I couldn’t decide if one particular roll of film was taken in the summer of 2000 or the summer of 2001. Finally, I said, “Fuck it,” labeled it with a question mark, and moved on with my life. I mean, who really cares? That was almost twenty years ago.

Tomato, tomato.

After working on the project for a couple hours, I thought about pushing myself and finishing another storage bin of pictures. (I’m working on one Rubbermaid storage bin at a time). But that sounded like work, and since the project has so far been fun, I decided to wait. What’s my hurry? As long as I finish by the beginning of spring I will have met my goal, and chances are I’ll finish before Thanksgiving at my current rate. Maybe sooner.

This evening my parents sent me on a Walmart run, which was fine. It’s always good to have an excuse to shower and get out of the house. Plus, they bought dinner–Subway. Afterwards I’d intended to blog–like, knock it out–then watch a movie. It’s one of those days. But then I realized I have bills due tomorrow, so spent nearly two hours paying bills, cleaning up old emails, and getting my laptop back in order.

Sometimes I get on a roll.

Now it’s 10:30, and I’m ready for that movie. I don’t have a “deep thought” to close with. (Some days you just show up and go through the motions.) I do, however, have something to ponder that’s perhaps fitting considering all the art I looked at yesterday and even the photo-project I’ve been working on lately. My therapist told me once that if you’re NOT challenging your mind by learning something new or otherwise growing yourself, you WILL create drama by calling your friends to gossip or otherwise stirring up trouble–like, online. In other words, since humans are naturally creative beings, if you’re NOT creating something positive in your life, you WILL create something negative.

So that’s the question I’ve been asking myself lately–Exactly what do I WANT to create?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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