Cussing Out My Inner Director (Blog #278)

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A few days ago my apparently very intelligent car, Tom Collins, told me that one of my tires had low pressure. This happened a couple months ago with the same tire. Luckily I was right by a gas station. Even better, it was one with free air. How about that? Sometimes life throws you a bone. The next day my brother-in-law said, “Did you know you have flat tire?” Well shit. I guess I ran over a nail. Sometimes life takes the bone back. As my dad said, “Son, you’re starting the new year off right.”

Today has been overwhelming. It began when my alarm went off in the middle of a dream in which I was both ill-prepared and late for a stage performance. I couldn’t get my hair to “do right.” Consequently, there was an announcement that the show would start six or seven minutes late. The director was not amused. When I tried to explain myself, she went straight for my gut and said, “You’re not even that entertaining.”

“Fuck you,” I said, and that was it.

This was not a pleasant way to wake up, my heart already racing. Additionally, I knew I had a lot to do today, including getting the flat tire repaired, finishing a book due back at the library, and writing today’s blog before teaching dance tonight. This is something I like to do–create lists of things I “have” to do that really aren’t that important. I mean, the flat tire was important–I need my car this week. But is it really the end of the world if I don’t finish a library book? Can’t I check it out again? And haven’t I written late at night plenty of times before? Still, I give myself these deadlines.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and most of my to-do list is done (except the blog). Since I was stressed out, my dad took charge of the flat tire situation. The tire store is just a couple blocks away, so he called them and told them what was going on–we’ve got a flat tire and no way to air it up. Well, one of the guys actually came to the house with an air compressor and blew the tire up enough to get it to the shop. How great is that? Anyway, while that was being done, I finished the book I mentioned, the one about sinus health I’ve talked about before. (I’ve had the book for a full six weeks.)

On one hand, I’m glad to have the book finished. On the other hand, I’m overwhelmed (again) by all the recommendations it provided. My body really isn’t feeling great today, and when that’s the case, I just can’t think about buying two dozen vitamins, installing an air filter, finding (and paying for) an acupuncturist, starting a meditation practice, and learning to walk on water. Talk about frustrating. The book said that people with sinus issues often have “unexpressed anger,” but honestly, the main thing I’m angry about is the fact that I’ve been so fucking sick for three months and that getting better sounds about as easy as obtaining enlightenment. Maybe if I threw the book across the room, that would help. Or I could just start cussing more.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I know part of my frustration with not feeling well is the deadline thing. Like, next week I’m seeing a new doctor, but I think, I need answers now. I need to feel better now. This mentally, of course, contributes to my running around the internet, spending all my time and money looking for the latest home remedies and snake oils. I realize I’m not being patient. If anything, I’m being desperate. That sounds about right. I’m desperate for things to improve.

I plan to talk about it in therapy, but I think the dream was about deadlines too, that feeling of pressure I put on myself to perform, whether that’s daily blogging or making something “great” of my life. I want everything to be just so, and it feels as if life isn’t moving fast enough. Perhaps not so deep down, I feel like I’m not good enough. “You’re not even that entertaining.” The good news, of course, is that I told the harsh director to fuck off, meaning my subconscious is starting to question all my self-judgments and artificial deadlines. It’s saying, “Wait a damn minute, I’m doing the best I can here.” This is something I have to keep telling myself, that I’m doing the best I can, I have plenty of time, and there’s nothing to be desperate about.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is better when we're not in control. When we mentally leave room for anything to happen, anything can.

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The Bigger Picture (Blog #276)

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Last night my sister, brother-in-law, and I continued to work on our latest puzzle, a 2000-piece situation of Cinque Terre, a famous tourist spot in Italy. We’d all been working on it throughout the day, but really dug in after dinner. After a few hours of consistent progress, my sister and brother-in-law turned in about eleven. I, on the other hand, worked until three in the morning. I guess I got sucked in. I kept telling myself, Just one more piece. Y’all, by the time I dragged myself to bed, I’d pretty much put in a full day’s worth of work.

If only I could get paid for this.

Today I feel overwhelmed. I’ve been worrying about all my little health issues, which–honestly–are minor. Since one thing leads to another, I’ve also been worrying about when I’ll finally get a “real job” and move out of my parents house. Today marks exactly nine months since I started the blog, which means I only have three months until I hit the one-year mark, and I guess I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself for something “great” to happen by that time. I realize this isn’t a reasonable thing to do. Honestly, I just feel out of control. I could use a break.

Since today is the last day of 2017, maybe I’m simply doing a lot of reflecting. This last year has looked nothing like what I thought it would. On the outside, I didn’t work in the traditional sense. Consequently I spent the year with fewer physical possessions than planned. I only bought one pair of shoes, and I still don’t own a belt. As my therapist says, I’m basically living like a college student. Also, I spent the year lonelier, at least in the fact that I ended a longtime relationship with one of my closest friends. This is something I haven’t blogged about and don’t intend to at this point, but obviously had an effect. Much like the car wreck I had several month ago, it left its scars. Ultimately, however, it was a good thing.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot today, the idea that experiences can be both painful and beneficial at the same time. I mean, this year has been a real kick in the pants in many respects, but I have gotten a lot out of it. This blog, for instance. For every challenge I’ve faced on the outside, this has been the place where I could work it out on the inside. And as for being lonely at times, this has been the place where I better learned to keep myself company, to be my own closet friend. Other good things have happened, of course. But today it seems that even positive changes are challenging, since they often turn your world upside down and require energy to adjust to. Maybe that’s what this last year has been–a big adjustment.

Now all I want to do is work on the puzzle. Honestly, it’s the best distraction, something that keeps me from focusing on my problems and, in the words of Emily Dickinson, going “down and down.” My sister and brother-in-law are on their way back from running around, and after we eat dinner, we plan to work on the puzzle to ring in the new year. I can’t think of a better place to be, with my family, back at the kitchen table. There I am able to focus. There I am able to be patient. There I can look at the bigger picture and trust that things are coming together, however slowly, one piece at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Of all the broken things in your life, you’re not one of them–and you never have been.

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What I’m Gaining (Blog #268)

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It’s two days before Christmas, and my sister, brother-in-law, and their two boys are on their way here from New Mexico. They’re bringing their own food because they’re healthy eaters. They actually have a food cooler that plugs into their car’s cigarette lighter. Mom’s been cleaning out our refrigerator, throwing away old deli meat and unused packets of hot sauce from Taco Bell, clearing every square inch she can in order to make room for my sister’s unhomogenized grass-fed milk and organic tortillas. The whole affair has my dad in a tizzy, a little too much change too fast. “Don’t throw that jar of pickled beans away, Judy!” And it’s only going to get better. This time tomorrow the boys will be running around underfoot, scattering Crayons and Legos all over the kitchen table and living room floor. Hell, I’ll probably find some floating in the toilet. It’s going to be glorious mess.

But don’t worry, I’m sure there’s some whiskey here somewhere.

My sinus infection/cold continues to persist. Ever the dramatic, I’ve been thinking about writing my own eulogy and preparing myself for the afterlife. I mean, if this were the Middle Ages, I’d already be a senior citizen, so I think I can say I’ve had a good run here. Yesterday I read that some people have cured sinus problems by sniffing probiotic powder. So last night I picked up a bottle of probiotic capsules from my aunt then went to The Vitamin Shoppe to pick up a different brand, just in case. But before I went into the store, I emptied the contents of a single probiotic capsule onto a sheet of paper and snorted the powder up my nose like a cocaine addict. Honestly, it wasn’t the smoothest experience. The powder kind of clumped around my nostrils. Maybe it would have gone better if I’d put the powder on a mirror and chopped it up with a credit card.

I can’t believe I’m telling this story. A thirty-seven-year-old man snorting probiotic powder in a parking lot. What would I have said if a cop had seen me? I swear, officer, it’s acidophilus!

Walking into The Vitamin Shoppe, I had so much white powder on my face it looked like I’d been eating a funnel cake with both hands tied behind my back. Paranoid, I wiped my face with my shirt, got what I needed, and got out. Chill out, Marcus, no one thinks you’re a drug user. As of this moment, I’ve tried the treatment a few times, and I can’t tell that it’s making a difference one way or the other. Maybe it’s not supposed to be an instant cure, or maybe it’s just more internet crap. Either way, I’m still sick, still coughing up junk, still as frustrated as ever.

I’ve been slowing working my way through the book I have about holistic sinus health. Last night I read the section of vitamins and minerals, and apparently I’m not taking enough to kick an infection. The book says it takes 15 supplements to do the job, not 12. But then it also says an air filter, a negative ion particle generator, a humidifier, and the Archangel Gabriel would be nice. (I made up that last part.) Regardless, there are million helpful hints, a veritable shotgun approach of ideas. And whereas I appreciate all the thorough suggestions, I can only afford so many of them. But for crying out loud, it’s not like I’m not trying over here. Seriously–mad props to this infection for being such an indestructible bastard.

Mad props means extreme support or high praise, Mom.

Now it’s three in the afternoon, and I’m considering cleaning up and running some errands when this blog is done. I need a few food items (and maybe more supplements!) and have no desire to brave the streets and stores tomorrow. Today will be bad enough, but it is what it is.

Last night as I was sniffing probiotics up my nose, I laughed at how crazy it was. At the same time, I realized that I actually enjoy this whole process of experimentation. Let me be clear, I want this thing to go away. But there’s part of my personality that enjoys digging my heels in, trying one more thing, continuing to look for an answer long after many people would have quit. To me this feels like an act of self-care, of not giving up on myself and the idea of something better. At the very least I’m gaining patience, endurance, and compassion, three things I’m finding to be hard to come by, high-priced, and, most importantly, worth whatever you have to go through to get them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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I’ll Take the Slow Grind (Blog #256)

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Last night I listened to an interview with Bob Walter, the man who runs the Joseph Campbell Foundation. (You know I’m a big Joseph Campbell fan.) Well, apparently at one point Bob and Joe started a publishing company to get Joe’s message out, and Bob had to be a little pushy. “No one is interested in this stuff,” Joe said.

“You mean you get discouraged?” Bob said.

“Of course I get discouraged,” Joe said. “I’m human.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and the collection of stickers on her laptop continues to grow. Since I last saw her, she’s added a “no texting” sticker, as well as one of a skeleton sitting at a computer that says, “The Internet–Please enjoy everybody’s opinion.” Also, she had two new rings on her fingers, both of which were serious bling and could easily anchor a medium-sized boat in the middle of a hurricane. Naturally, I was jealous. To be clear, I’m not talking about diamonds–this was straight up costume jewelry. “Absolutely fabulous,” I said.

“You know, I’m trying some new things,” she said.

Most of our time today was spent talking about personal change, about how it’s not as easy as everyone, all the people who write books, make it out to be. This is one of my pet peeves lately, that self-help material, vitamin shops, and online yoga classes aren’t more up front about the fact that while helpful, they’re not a panacea. Rather–and I get that everyone’s trying to make a dollar–they make it sound like if you buy their product, you’ll be eternally happy, find the perfect sex-hungry partner, and have wrinkle-free skin. I can’t tell you how long I bought into this crap. I still struggle with it. Who doesn’t want a magic bullet?

“You’re not the only one who’s been given that impression,” my therapist said. “But transformation is real fucking hard. It’s the slow grind. There’s no other way.”

The–slow–grind. No kidding. That’s been my experience. I’ve spent more time in the self-help, psychology, philosophy, and spirituality aisles in the bookstore than anyone else I know–I have a rockstar therapist I’ve seen consistently for over three years–these are just facts. And if there’s something I could pass on from all my time and effort, it’d be this–a better life is completely possible, but it’s a long, tough ride to get there. (Saddle up, partner.) I realize this isn’t what people want to hear–I don’t want to hear it–but it’s the truth. “It just takes patience,” my therapist says. “And patience is a bitch.”

After therapy I had lunch with my friend Ray. I haven’t seen him in maybe a month, and it was truly a shot in the arm. We laughed, then laughed some more. For a while Ray and I talked about getting discouraged, the slow grind, and being patient as change occurs. Ray said he thought a big element of success was simply continuing to show up–to therapy, a support group, even a dance class. Again, I guess this is the idea that change and transformation come in little pieces. Rarely is something a “one and done.”

Being authentic isn’t for sissies.

I can’t tell you how much I hate this–little pieces, being patient, all of it. I wish transformation were easier, and, like Joe, I often get discouraged with this path. Being authentic isn’t for sissies. I get on the internet, read everybody’s opinion, and it’s easy to feel as if I’m doing something wrong. People comment online and send me private messages, tell me I’d be better off if I did something different with my hair, wore other clothes, didn’t cuss so much, or smiled more. I mention this because it’s something else most teachers don’t talk about. They tell you to be authentic–wear gaudy jewelry if you want to!–but they don’t tell you that the more true to yourself you are, the more pushback you get, often from people you care about.

I don’t mind saying this sucks.

I realize this take on the long, tough ride of transformation and the challenges of being authentic isn’t exactly encouraging. It wouldn’t sound great on an infomercial. But wait, there’s more–it gets worse before it gets better! But I wouldn’t be sharing these opinions if they weren’t my honest experience and if I didn’t absolutely believe that all the hard work and all the continuing to show up were worth it. Because I do. Sure, there are days when I get discouraged and feel like I’m going nowhere. I’m human too. But I’ll take my worst day now over my best day five years ago because now I’m being real. I’m closer to myself every day. And if the slow grind is what it takes to get me closer to myself, I’ll take the slow grind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Help is always on the way.

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Slow Down, Sweetheart (Blog #253)

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Currently I’m waiting for my daily selfie to load. My internet is slow, slow, slow. Last night I had a dream that I’d returned to school, only this time for a visit. After parking, I walked into a classroom. My best friend from high school was there, as was a teacher I didn’t care for. As I walked out of the room, I passed a kid who used to beat me up, stepped over a straight girl who fell in love with me a while back. (Bye, Felicia.) Wanting to go to the office, I ended up outside. There was another teacher I didn’t like far away, and a sort of picnic going on in the courtyard. I woke up when I got to the band. (There was a band.) The dream was uncomfortable because the entire time it felt as if I was walking through mud. Like my present internet speed, I was moving in slow motion. (Slow motion for me.)

I can’t tell you how frustrating it was.

Now it’s three-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m rushing, trying to get through this blog so I can meet my family for my lunch, their dinner. (This happens a lot when you live with senior citizens.) For the last twelve weeks Mom has been getting chemotherapy every Friday, and they always go out to eat afterwards. I’ve only met them a couple times, but today is kind of a big deal, since it’s Mom’s LAST chemotherapy. I mean, she gets to ring a bell! (Apparently it’s a thing.) Anyway, I technically just at breakfast, but I want to celebrate this milestone with my mama. Come on, creativity, come on.

Yesterday I wasn’t in the best mood. If nothing else is going on, this is usually a pretty good indication that I’m not feeling well. True to form, I did have more drainage than normal yesterday, and some of it was green-ish. (It’s gross, I know, but this is the place where I get to be honest.) Anyway, I stepped up the antihistamines, vitamins, and teas, and did another kimchi treatment last night. Y’all, I feel so much better today–less drainage, less color. Again, it’s not a miracle, but it’s close enough. The biggest improvement is that I woke up on the right side of the bed. I was dancing while making breakfast! Yesterday it was the blues, and today it’s Motown.

Things are looking up.

I’m still chewing on the dream I had last night, but my gut says it had it do with patience. In one sense, I know I’ve come a long way, slowly walked through the classroom of life and learned a lot of lessons. The bullies and fruitless relationships are behind me. Still, I’m not wherever it is I’m going (the office). As I said earlier, this is frustrating. In this sense, the dream isn’t a mystery. I constantly look ahead at where I’m not. Every day feels as if I’m not moving fast enough.

There’s a lot of magic around you.

Yesterday on Facebook my sister shared a song by Macklemore and Kesha. The song is called Good Old Days and says, “Some day soon your whole life’s gonna change–you’ll miss the magic of these good old days.” Honestly, I often forget to see the blessings of where I am because I want my life to change–I think it will be better, that I will be happier. I forget that there’s a lot of magic around me (a picnic with a band!), that I get to sleep in, let my body heal and find balance. Not everyone can do that. I forget that I can go out to eat with my parents, be close by while my mom is fighting cancer. Last night we both stayed up late and shared some egg rolls while watching our respective television shows. Who knows how many more times that will happen? So today I’m reminding myself that these truly are magic moments, moments not everyone gets to have, moments that even for me won’t last forever. Slow down, Marcus. Slow down, sweetheart. There’s a lot to enjoy here. And don’t worry, you’ll still get there–wherever that is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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Things That Aren’t On-Demand (Blog #247)

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Tonight for dinner I ate a steak with brussels sprouts and beets. Brussels sprouts and beets, with dandelion tea to drink! (Look, Ma, I’m becoming one of those annoying healthy people on the internet.) This afternoon I even ate a mango with breakfast. But seriously, what has happened to me, stepping out of my food comfort zone? Usually my vegetables are limited to zucchini, squash, and spinach–that’s it. I like my fruits to be apples, bananas, peaches, pears, or pineapples, or I don’t like them at all. Honestly, it’d be the same if I were going out for tacos–I’m a creature of habit–I find something that works and stick with it.

As for why I’m branching out at mealtime, I’ve been on the world-wide web again. Lately I’ve been reading a lot about how you should “eat the rainbow.” Personally, I think this is one of the gayest expressions I’ve ever heard (and therefore we should keep it). But seriously, I love the way it reminds me to fill my plate with colorful food. Fried chicken is not a color, Marcus. Well, usually when I take to a new idea, I jump overboard and go one hundred percent. I’m going to buy fifty-four new vegetables and sixteen new fruits. I’m going to eat the rainbow–in one meal! But the last time I went to the store I told myself it was okay to start small–one new fruit, one new vegetable, one new canned vegetable. Baby steps.

Now that I’ve tried all these new food items, I can’t say that my life has dramatically changed. I feel pretty much like I’ve felt for the last week–sort of tired, not awful. So I’ve been trying to convince myself that I really am in this for the long haul, that eating right is something that benefits a person over time, not over an afternoon. I’ve been trying to apply this thinking to my chi kung practice too. So far I’ve been at it every day for twelve days, and I really have to fight the tendency to throw in the towel because this still hurts or that’s still a problem. I blame America for this mentality. Everything here is drive-thru restaurants, two-day shipping, and on-demand movies. I want healing now.

Our bodies aren’t on-demand.

Of course, our bodies aren’t on-demand. Health problems and the number on the scale take time to develop, take time to go away. I’m trying to remember this. Once I read that the secret to success was simply doing more of a right action. In other words, if you consider eating a healthy meal to be a good thing–do more of that. Earlier today I saw a picture of me taken a couple months ago, and the first thing I thought was, Oh wow, I’ve lost weight in my face. So whereas I have a tendency to think that nothing I do ever works, my body has obviously responded to the right actions I’ve been taking for the last month. So maybe I just need to keep it up. As the saying goes, all things in good time.

This afternoon I finished reading Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, one of the best fiction books I’ve read in a while. Then I started a non-fiction book about intuition called Second Sight by Judith Orloff. Currently I’m a little less than halfway done, and all I can think about is finishing so I can get to the six other books I’ve already started but haven’t finished. I do this a lot–think about all the books I want to read but don’t have time to. I look at the dozens and dozens of titles on my Amazon wish lists and just assume my life would be better if I had all that knowledge. Since there’s always more to learn, this thinking is exhausting. So I’m trying to remind myself to simply do the best I can each day–read what I can read–and give myself a damn break.

Tonight I repaired a light fixture in my parents’ bedroom. A few weeks ago it shorted out, and I just got the replacement part I needed a couple days ago. So I was almost done. I’d already installed the new part, attached the wires, fastened the fixture to the ceiling, and put the bulbs back in. All I had to do was put the glass globe on the bottom. If you’ve ever done this sort of thing, you know nothing is ever easy, and I hit a snag when the new part I installed didn’t have a screw long enough to hold the globe on. (Don’t you hate it when a screw isn’t long enough?) Well, the next thing I knew, I was fishing through the trashcan for the old part, so I could take the long screw from it and use it to hold the globe on. Of course, the bracket holding the screw was welded on, so I ended up making a mess.

But the good news is that it worked. It just took longer than I thought.

I guess most things take longer than we think–losing weight, feeling better, reading a book. Just now I got distracted and watched a bunch of videos about intuition (it’s a theme lately), so now this blog is taking longer than I thought. Maybe we all get distracted, or maybe life isn’t meant to be lived in a straight line. Once my therapist said, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” I think I rolled my eyes; it was just more “inspirational poster” than I could handle at the moment. But when I consider this blog, for example, it really isn’t where I’m going on the outside–365 days of straight blogging–it’s where I’m going on the inside. That’s the journey the therapist was talking about, the one that transforms you. Of course, this journey, like the physical body, refuses to be rushed, is the result of taking one right action after another, and is worth every baby step along the way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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Taking My Mind Back (Blog #221)

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Today I’ve been all over the emotional map–North, South, East, and West–in anything but a straight line. I saw my therapist this afternoon, and that’s almost always a shot in the arm. I mean, she’s hilarious and insightful. As per usual, we tackled “the list” of all the thoughts, problems, and curiosities I couldn’t stop thinking about this last week. Probably half our time was spent on dreams I’ve had lately, which included a hot sex dream and a dream about Hillary Clinton. (To be absolutely perfectly clear, those were two distinct, separate dreams.) I’ll spare you the lengthy analysis, but when it was over, my therapist said, “You really have the best dreams.” Well, not once in my life have I ever thought my subconscious would get such a glowing review, but now that it has, I sort of want to put it on my resume. Marcus Coker–can get shit done even in his sleep.

Feel free to roll your eyes.

In case it needs to be restated–my therapist detests social media. If you’ve looked at what people are posting lately, I’m sure you can figure out way. Anyway, today she had a whole slew of new anti-social-media stickers on her laptop, the biggest of which said, “Social Media Personality Disorder.” I said, “Oh, like, I’m neurotic because someone didn’t like my post or said something negative?”

She said, “Exactly.”

Beneath that sticker was one that said, “Take your mind back.” Tying the two sentiments together, my therapist said, “Don’t hand your mind over to other people. You know who you are.” To me this means that I can’t let a news feed filled with cats and political arguments tell me how to feel every day. What’s more, if I spend the day scrolling, comparing myself to others and looking for outside validation, I’m only going to end up feeling worse about myself. So ultimately, unless I want to be neurotic, I have to be responsible for my thoughts and feelings. This, of course, is the very essence of authenticity.

A couple months ago I started a small remodel project–replacing a door threshold–for my friend Ray. Well, it’s dragged on and on because the threshold had to be special ordered, and I guess the shipping department kept sending the product to a different store location. Not knowing this, the store I was working with kept ordering new ones–a total of three of them, in fact. Anyway, shit happens. I finally picked up the threshold today, was immediately deflated because I realized I didn’t have the proper tools to remove the excess length, then got excited when I went to Ray’s because I discovered it was exactly the right size.

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

I guess technically–in this case–I threw myself a bone, since I’m the one who would have specified the length of the threshold when I ordered it. That being said, I’m willing to share the credit with life. Very magnanimous of me, I know.

The project itself went really well, albeit slower than I desired. Since some of the wood in the door frame was rotten, I needed to replace it, and this meant using a saw. Well, the only saw blade I had was dull, and for a while I dicked around hoping I could make it work. Dull blades are useless, of course, so then I tried chiseling the wood and even sanding it in order to make it the right size. This felt like trying to teach a cat how to bark. Well, I finally gave up, gave in, made the long haul back to the hardware store, and bought new blades. Y’all, things went MUCH faster after that. Who’d have thought? Now–after all this time–the project is finished.

Phew.

Feeling rather accomplished, I celebrated by playing with Ray’s new kitten, Leo. I’m really not a cat person, but I love black cats, and Leo was SO CUTE. Not only did he let me hold him in my arms like a baby, he also wore a black-and-white bow tie for the occasion. Talk about a class act. But seriously–a kitten in a bow tie! Could anything be more adorable?

The low point for the evening was checking the mail when I got home. Remember when I went to the emergency room a few weeks ago for a skin infection? Well, I got the bill today, and apparently my insurance didn’t pay for anything–not a cent was spent. Talk about a huge bummer, letdown, and disappointment. I tried to stop myself, but I immediately commenced freaking out. I can’t afford this. I should’ve gone to a regular doctor. Shit–I want chocolate chip cookies–This is a terrible day to be on a diet. Y’all, if it’s not obvious, it’s really difficult for me to stay calm in these situations. I went through a similar ordeal after I had sinus surgery this year (which turned out fabulously, despite my worrying), and every time the feeling is the same–I just want the whole thing over with.

This is probably something I should bring up in therapy, the way I flip shit whenever I see a piece of paper that says, “Balance due.” It probably has something to do with the fact that I was handed the family checkbook–which didn’t have much money in it, by the way–at the age of fifteen when Dad went to prison. Now that I think about it, I’m sure it has everything to do with that.

Anyway, it took me a while to talk myself down off the ledge. For a while I tried to ignore the issue by reading a book about writing I found at a used bookstore this afternoon. Then I decided I had to move, so I went for a run, even though it was drizzling and cold outside. Considering the fact that I’m just getting over three weeks of being sick, this may not have been the smartest move. Still, I had to do something to burn off my nervous energy, which I guess I had a lot of because I ended up running six miles. Along the way I remembered that 1) what’s done is done, 2) my life could be much, much, worse, and 3) it’s possible this could turn out better than I’m thinking it will. Around mile five, I actually laughed when I thought of one of my favorite comedy sketches.

Last month when I was in Colorado at a spiritual retreat, the teacher said, “Joy is not in the object.” This statement came out of the observation that most of us behave as if joy is in the object. Like, we want a new car, a new house, or a new boyfriend because we think having those things will make us happy. But if happiness resided in those particular things, they’d make everyone happy or they’d make us happy all of the time. Well, when I laughed while running tonight, I realized that just as joy is not in the object, neither is anxiety, nervousness, or stress. In other words, if a hospital bill were truly the source of my worry, I wouldn’t be able to laugh until it were taken care of. The fact that my mood can change, however, shows me that my reaction has very little to do with a sheet of paper and everything to do with me.

Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

Personally, I think this is really good news, since I have a better shot at controlling myself than I do controlling the outside world. But the point is that the outside world really can’t control your internal one unless you let it–nothing outside of you can tell you what to think or feel. Granted, part of me is still freaking out about the medical bill, but the adult that’s sitting in this chair knows that I’ll call the hospital tomorrow and start a conversation about what can be done. Like the threshold project, I’ll want everything to be wrapped up as soon as possible, but I’ll remind myself that some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store. In this way, I hope to take my mind back from all the many people, places, and things to which I’ve let it wander, gently coaxing it back home to rest where it belongs.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Growth and getting far in life have nothing to do with where you’re physically standing.

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How Life Proceeds (Blog #203)

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It’s two in the afternoon, and it seems like I just did this twelve hours ago–because I did. Currently my sister is on her way to pick up Christopher from school, she has Ander in tow, and I have the house to myself. God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m going out tonight. I guess you could call it a date. It’s been so long, I’m really not sure what the rules and definitions are anymore. Regardless, I’m meeting a boy for drinks, and it sucks to ditch a cute face in favor of a laptop. Not that I don’t love y’all, but let’s see if we can wrap this up before Daddy hits the town, okay?

Also, I’d really like to take a nap. I don’t mind saying this no-oxygen, sort of sick thing is a real drag. I used to have a boss that said that–What a drag, what a serious drag. All things considered, it could be a lot worse. But yeah, a nap would be good. And I should probably hydrate. Well, shit. I just realized I didn’t hit the right button to start my laundry for tonight. No worries–if at first you don’t succeed…

Drink. (To be clear, I don’t endorse drinking to solve your problems. Or anyone else’s.)

Well, shit again. I just saw a mouse run across the kitchen and back again. This must be his time of day to do cardio. I hope he doesn’t expect me to join him, at least until my lungs can get acclimated to the altitude. He could be waiting a while. We all could be waiting a while.

This morning my sister and I took Ander to story time at the local library. Y’all, it was the cutest thing. There were all these tiny people running around, and one of the boys had round red-rubber glasses strapped and fastened around his little head. My friend Leah calls kids like him “false advertisement,” since they look cute but will throw up on you before the week is over and not think twice about it. Also, once you have one, you can’t take them back. Anyway, the lady in charge of story time was wonderful. Today she wore an orange apron for Halloween, so I kept forgetting she wasn’t a Home Depot employee. But still, she read to the kids, played games, and used props. Had it been me, I could have been totally frustrated that all the little tots weren’t paying attention, but she was so patient. Amazing.

When we got back from the library, my sister and I changed clothes with the intention of painting in her master bedroom. She and her husband have been remodeling it since they’ve moved in. Anyway, we couldn’t find any rollers, so she ended up cutting in while I did the hard work of taking off light switch plates and trying to entertain Ander, who insisted on being underfoot. This went on for less than an hour before Dee-Anne had to leave to pick up Christopher. She said a lot of days she feels like saying, “Fuck it–these pink walls aren’t that bad,” since it’s so difficult to get stuff done with kids running around and wanting attention.

Obviously, there’s a reason they invented Benadryl and the Disney channel.

Now the wash is almost done, and I just took a lap around the house in search of inspiration. Normally I write at the end of the day, plenty of things “have happened,” and there’s a well of information to draw from. But this is clearly different–the sun is still up. What happens while the sun is up? Really, all I can think about is that nap. Also, I leave in a few days, and I’m feeling as if I’m running out of time. There were several things I wanted to do, but they simply haven’t happened yet. So it’s possible I won’t watch a movie, go country dancing, or see the Catholic chapel with the dirt that performs miracles. Que sera, sera.

Last night I started reading a book about writing, and the author says that artists need a lot of down time, a lot of time to “do nothing.” Maybe this looks like going for a walk, but only if going for a walk is not a to-do list item. Like, it should be relaxing. (I’ve heard this before and have been really slow to come around to this notion.) The idea is that inspiration and creativity happen in the present moment, and most of us wouldn’t recognize the present moment if it hit us between the eyes because we’re so busy running around stressing and fretting.

If this last part sounds familiar, please raise your hand.

Obviously, that last picture was a setup. My sister said, “Christopher doesn’t stress or fret about anything.” This is where I really believe children are our teachers. They’re almost always focused on what’s in front of them and not imagining they’d be better off somewhere else. When they do get upset because they’d rather be watching TV instead of eating brussel sprouts, they pitch a fit, it’s over quickly, and they don’t bitch or blog about it the next day. Children don’t give a shit how long it takes to paint a bedroom, whether or not there’s a mouse in the house, or whether or not they’ve been on a date in the last year.

Life proceeds at its own pace.

Of course, children can’t drive or pick up their own socks, so it’s not like they’re perfect. Still, today I’m reminded to accept life as it comes. Sometimes this looks like go, go, go. Things get done left and right. Other times it’s as if your every routine and desire have lain down for a long winter’s nap. You wake up, and not matter how hard you push, what gets done gets done. Just as your head hits the pillow you think, Is this really my life? Well, obviously the answer is yes. What happens, happens. One day your child grows up and stops needing so much attention. Somehow the walls get painted. Even if they don’t, life proceeds at its own pace. Constantly, quietly it saunters along, refusing to be hurried.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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Flexing the Right Muscles (Blog #124)

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It’s three in the morning. Bed sounds really good right about now. Last night I got home from Springfield at four in the morning, slept for four hours, and woke up early (for me) to get a massage and see the chiropractor. Then I came home, slept for a couple of hours, and went to physical therapy, since healing from the car accident is now my new hobby. This evening I ran around downtown Fort Smith, came home, and took a nap on the futon from midnight to one to try to recharge before writing. I’m not sure that it worked.

Now that we have that out of the way.

This morning my massage therapist, Gena, and I were talking about how tight my scalenes are. Scalenes are the muscles that run from your ear to your shoulder on both sides. She said one of the reasons mine were tight is because my head juts forward rather than sitting back directly over my shoulders. She suggested one way I could “gently coax” my body into the right position would be to purposefully jut my head and neck forward, and then pull them back–like a turtle–and that I could do this in the car whenever I stop at a stop light or stop sign. (Thank God for tinted windows.) “Whenever you engage or flex one set of muscles,” she said, “BY LAW the opposing muscles have to relax.”

So every time I’ve stopped at a stop sign today and tried the exercise, I’ve thought, This has to work–it’s a law.

This afternoon I did something I rarely do. I voiced my opinion on Facebook. (Hell, everyone else is doing it.) One of my friends whom I respect posted an article about being punctual and asked (SHE ASKED) what everyone thought about “being late.” Well, all the other comments were basically “I hate that shit,” “Late people are rude,” “Late people are arrogant,” or–slightly kinder but not really–“Being late is arrogant behavior.”

Okay. Maybe I’m sensitive because I’m usually right on time (which apparently is the new late) or five to ten minutes late (which apparently is “unacceptable”). I admit–this is something I could improve on. Maybe we’d all be happier if I did. I definitely think being on time is professional and courteous. That being said, I take issue with the idea that the fact that I was slightly late to physical therapy today (because I left the house with just enough time to get there and then got stuck in traffic and saw a friend in the parking lot) makes me arrogant. (Feel free to disagree.) A mediocre time manager and horrible psychic, maybe.

My therapist says that online communication is froth with misunderstandings, so I don’t want to read more into those comments than were intended. Still, I’ve been thinking tonight even if the whole world agreed that being late is arrogant or rude or “something Jesus would never do” (although Martha did say, “Lord, if only had been here [on time], my brother would not have died”), that still wouldn’t change the reality that people are late, that traffic jams do happen, that–well–shit happens.

Shit happens.

One of my creative homework assignments this week is to initiate a conversation with one of my friends about synchronicity. I’m not sure if blogging counts as a way to do that, but it’s worth a shot, so here I go. (If you have experiences you’d like share, please message me or post in the comments so this conversation won’t be one-sided.) This afternoon in the middle of my finding my fifth chakra (which is at your throat and represents confession and speaking your truth) on Facebook, I kept thinking that I needed to message my friend Vicki to see if she was going to hear her husband Donny play Irish music at Core Brewing Company tonight. Well–guess what? Synchronistically, she messaged me first (and said she was).

So later I met Vicki to hear Donny play, had a great time, and lived happily ever after.

When I started blogging tonight, I noticed that the last time I wrote about Donny, I spelled his name wrong. (Sorry, Donny. I fixed it.) But get this. Tonight when I saw Donny, he didn’t say anything about it. I mean, there wasn’t a single comment about my being arrogant or rude or a bad friend because I spelled his name incorrectly. Go figure. Maybe it didn’t bother him at all, but if it did, he chose to be gracious about it. (Thank you.)

I guess a person can always choose to be gracious.

During the course of conversation tonight, Vicki said, “The more forgiving you are of yourself, the more forgiving you are of others.” My therapist says, “You don’t treat anyone better than you treat yourself.” In other words, if you’re a hard ass with yourself–about being on time, about having good grammar and correct spelling, about being “perfect”–you’re going to be a hard ass with everyone else. (So if someone is rude, unkind, or judgmental to you–have compassion–that’s how they treat themselves on the regular.) But if you extend grace to yourself, if you give understanding to yourself, you’ll naturally extend those things to others.

I’ll say it again. You don’t treat anyone better than you treat yourself.

I’m thinking now that our judgments–of ourselves and each other–are like muscles. If we “flex” our impatience, BY LAW, our patience must relax. However, if we “flex” our patience, BY LAW, our impatience must relax. (It has to work, it’s a law.) Ultimately, we’ll never be able to control what someone else does. Sadly, at least as long as I’m in it, we’ll never be able to make the whole world be punctual. But the good news is that we have plenty–PLENTY–of opportunities to practice patience, to extend grace, to treat ourselves and those around us better.

[Here’s a picture of one of the downtown murals at night, just because I checked it out this evening and wanted to put another picture on the blog.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

Don’t Be Cruel to a Heart That’s True (Blog #119)

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A couple of nights ago I spent the evening in downtown Fort Smith looking at the new murals/art projects for The Unexpected. The Unexpected is a project started in 2015 that annually brings world-known street artists to Fort Smith to construct art and paint murals (with aerosol cans) on old buildings in downtown. It’s probably–without a doubt–the coolest thing Fort Smith has ever done ever. This year’s event is currently underway and will culminate this weekend along with the Peacemaker Music Festival.

One of the attractions this year is inside an old theater that was built in the early nineteen hundreds. Apparently it was a gift to the city from a wealthy businessman (Sparks) after he died. It sat over a thousand people, had two balconies, and went from live entertainment to silent pictures to not-silent pictures to eventually (and lastly) x-rated pictures (which I’m guessing were probably not silent as well). The building has been closed for twenty or thirty years, so this week was my first time inside. Here’s a picture of one of the two murals in the old seating area. Both of them–I think–are weird as fuck, but beautiful.

There are only two murals being painted on the outside of buildings this year (I think), and they’re both at North 9th and A Streets, behind Saki. When I stopped by a couple of nights ago, both were in progress, and one of the artists was working on a hydraulic lift with the help of spotlights even after the sun went down. Here’s a picture of one of the murals. I’m not sure what it is, but I love the colors. I can’t wait to see the final product, since I think this will be one of my favorites out of the over-thirty pieces of art that have come out of the three Unexpected events.

This is the second mural, along with the artist at work.

The first picture on tonight’s blog was taken in the middle of Garrison Avenue. It’s me by a sign on a storefront that says, “Pretty Things Inside.” I thought it would be funnier if I’d been INSIDE the story (because I’m pretty), but I actually like what’s implied by standing beside the sign–that pretty things are inside ME, inside YOU.

The other new projects are at the end of Garrison Avenue (the main downtown street). There’s a small park with a Ferris Wheel and Merry-Go-Round, a restaurant in an old train car, and a couple of random giraffe statues because–you know–every city needs some. Anyway, here’s a picture of an double-decker bus that’s being painted by local university students. This side of the bus shows a monkey in a space suit. I mean, I guess that makes sense. We all know people who get promoted to jobs beyond their intelligence level.

Lastly, here’s–uh–something that’s being installed on what’s left of a building that got wiped out in a tornado twenty years ago. It’s made out of chicken wire and hot air balloon nylon and is held together by 40,000 zip ties! Looking at the zip ties, I’m reminded that I need to shave.

After looking at the artwork, I ran into my friend Donny at Core Brewing Company. I met Donny through Little Theater friends, and he’s one of the most creative and encouraging people I know (try something, make something, get a tattoo!). Anyway, he currently plays at Core on Tuesday nights in an Irish music band, and although I showed up too late for the music, I showed up in time to catch up with Donny. One of the topics we discussed, in addition to our favorite movie quotes, was what I’ve learned by writing every day. “Well,” I said, “one of the lessons has been how to be more patient with myself, how to judge myself less for not being at a certain point in life at a certain time.”

Tonight I drove by the alien in the bamboo hat mural, and some of the outlines you can see in the above photo had been painted in. I didn’t take a picture (sorry), but a lot of progress had been made. When I got home, I spent some time reading The Artists Way, and one of the Week 5 exercises said, “List ten ways you are mean to yourself.” Hum. Take a deep breath, Marcus. This may hurt a little. I’m going to be intentionally vague here, since I think it’d be worthwhile to think about the ways in which YOU are mean to yourself. But I will say that the answers I wrote down had mostly to do with my internal (and sometimes external) self-talk, that voice that compares me to other people, says I’m not good enough, says I’m not worthy enough.

You know–THAT voice. The mean one. (The asshole.)

Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

It’s not that I haven’t known about that asshole voice in my head before night. I just hadn’t put it in terms of–whenever I listen to and believe that voice, I’m being mean to me. I’m certainly not recognizing what’s good (or pretty) inside me whenever I’m being self-critical. So I guess the advice–as Elvis would say–is, “Don’t be cruel to a heart that’s true.” Plus, I wouldn’t let anyone else talk to me like that. (Actually, I probably would, probably have. One of goals after making my ten things list was to speak my truth more, to take less shit off people because allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.)

I expect this to take some time. Changing habits usually does. But just like the murals downtown, it’s simply a matter of vision and dedication. And sometimes things go faster than you think. Remember the movie Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, the way everything and everyone was “excellent”? Well, when I told Donny that I was working on being more patient with myself, he said it reminded him of a line from that movie. Honestly, I think it’s so great that if I were a teenager in a punk rock band living in my parent’s basement (instead of their spare bedroom), I’d probably have it tattooed on my arm. The more I think about it, it’s the perfect reminder to treat myself better. So here’s the quote–for me–for you–for us.

“Be excellent to yourself, dude.”

[For you history buffs, here’s a link for more information about the old theater, along with more photos.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to give up wanting something before you can have it.

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