The World Keeps Spinning (Blog #574)

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A couple days ago I started a new “fix-it” project for some friends of mine, repairing a piece of wood on the side of their house. At first I thought it would be as simple as nailing a board back in place, but I quickly realized the wood also needed to be “filled in” with wood putty and then painted. Plus, all of the surrounding wood needed to be re-caulked, then re-painted. Shit, I thought, this is turning into work. But what do you do? That day, I screwed the wood back in place and patched as much as I could.

Here’s a picture before the patching. Notice the gaping holes.

Here’s a picture of the mostly patched holes.

Today I finished patching the holes and applied an extremely thick layer of caulk above the wood. Well, two extremely thick layers of caulk. However, since the caulk takes a while to dry, I couldn’t paint it. I could, however, paint the wood, so I did. This was a big deal for me because although the paint technically matched, it didn’t actually match, since the old paint had faded with age and sun exposure. The big deal part is that The Old Marcus would have turned this into a major ordeal and ended up re-painting the entire side of the house, if not the entire house. But The New Marcus thought, Just re-paint the affected board and call it a day.

So I did. (Notice the trash can–that’s what I used for a ladder.)

Now it’s 9:30 at night, and I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to paint over the caulk, after it dries. I’m still at my friends’ house, as I’m meeting a Criagslist contact later tonight in order to sell him a piece of furniture my friends left behind when they moved. This has been another project, getting rid of what they left. But tonight’s piece of furniture is the final one. After weeks and weeks of listing stuff online, it’s all gone. Or, almost gone anyway. I never assume a Craigslist deal is finished until I have money in hand.

Earlier I took a break to get dinner and work on another a project at the library–organizing my digital photos. This is one of my goals for the fall and winter, to get both my physical and digital photos in order. Ugh, talk about an ordeal. The paint/caulk project is only taking up a few days, but I imagine the photo project will take weeks or longer. Tonight at the library I sorted through–I don’t know–a couple months worth of photos from 2014, the year I first began backing up my photos online. And whereas it’s going to be great (super, really) to have my photos organized (like, Family, Trips to Albuquerque, Medical Documents, Remodeling Projects, etc.), it’s slow-going and overwhelming.

But at least I’ve started. That’s huge. I’m telling myself, A little at a time, Marcus. A little at a time.

The other overwhelming thing about this project is that I’m not always sure “where” to put a photo. Or if every single photo (there are thousands) “deserves” to be put into a specific album. Like, what am I suppose to do with that photo I took of a piece of furniture in an antique store four years ago? But again, I’m trying to not get overwhelmed and demand “perfection” of myself. I’m telling myself, Anything is a giant improvement over the current situation, which is everything simply lumped together (by date order).

My tendency when I start these projects is to sit down for ten hours at a time and grit my way through it. It’s difficult for me to work for, say, an hour and walk away. But that’s what I did tonight at the library. Well, okay, I worked for an hour and a half and walked away. One because the library was about to close, two because I wanted to blog. Plus, the project’s waited this long (and no one’s complaining that it hasn’t been done), and it will be there whenever I want to pick it back up. This is a something I’m working on, that the world won’t fall apart if things aren’t just so, that it really doesn’t give a damn if this paint doesn’t match that paint or all my photos aren’t neatly organized.

Like, the world has its own problems to deal with.

Somehow, it keeps spinning.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our world is magical, a mysterious place where everything somehow works together, where nothing and no one is without influence, where all things great and small make a difference.

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Tomorrow’s a Blank Page (Blog #572)

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It’s 11:28 at night, and I’ve been dicking around for over two hours–fixing my parents screen door, running the virus scanner on my laptop, scrolling through Facebook ad nauseam–doing anything I can to avoid writing. I just don’t feel like it. Stupid blog. Ugh–whose idea was this every-day writing nonsense?

Oh, that’s right–it was mine.

This afternoon I did some handyman things for some friends and got absolutely eaten up by mosquitoes in the process because I refused to use the bug spray I keep in my car. I can be so stubborn sometimes. But I was in relatively nice clothes and just didn’t want to smell like Deet for the rest of the day. Honestly, what’s a girl to do when presented with two unpleasant options?

To itch or to stink, that is the question. Obviously, my answer today was to itch, although I’ve chosen to stink plenty of other times in the past.

I can’t believe I’m talking about mosquitoes.

Move on, Marcus.

This evening I went downtown in Fort Smith to check out The Unexpected. The Unexpected is a mural-painting project that happens annually here, and–I think–is one of the coolest things this city has ever done ever. The project goes through this Sunday, October 28. Anyway, every year the organizers put out a new map that lists all the artists and where their respective murals are or will be located, so tonight after parking my car at a local coffee shop and with my map in hand, I hit the streets (oh-la-la) to look for the latest artwork. Oh my gosh, y’all, what a cool thing, to walk up on an old building you’ve driven past hundreds of times and see it being brought back to life. Even at 8:00 this evening, there were a number of artists out working on their projects.

Here’s a picture of one of the murals in progress on Towson Avenue. The artist is Alexis Diaz.

This one is also on Towson Avenue and is by PREF. (A lot of muralists don’t go by their god-given names. Apparently it’s a thing.) Personally, I’m really excited to see how this mural turns out. I assume it will say, “The very best is yet to come,” but since there are three blank spaces left and “to come” would only fill up two of them, who knows? It could be anything. That’s the great thing about a blank “canvas.” You can do with it what you want.

This one is on Garrison Avenue (the main drag in downtown) and is by Ana Maria. She did another mural in the same spot for the first Unexpected (in 2015), but obviously had to paint over it in order to create this new piece.

This one is on North A, one block off Garrison Avenue and is being painted by local high school students. How cool is that?

Although there are a few other new murals this year (by BUFFALO, ADD FUEL, and Cody Hudson), I didn’t take pictures of them tonight. I did, however, take this picture, which is one of the murals done for the first Unexpected; it was painted by local university students. I took it because the guy in the mural looks like he’s pointing to the full moon. I love that.

Now it’s after midnight, and I’m ready to go to bed. I NEED to go to bed. Last night I didn’t fall asleep until after four, since blogging took forever and I still had to shower after that. Anyway, it feels as if I’m going through the motions here. Personally, I’m not particularly impressed with what’s landed on the page tonight, and now I don’t have anything “profound” to say. Whatever, this is the way art works. You show up. You do the thing. Sometimes it’s fabulous, sometimes it’s flopulous. (I just made that word up. As in a fabulous flop, Mom.)

Sometimes you want a re-do.
That’s okay.
You can paint over yesterday.
Tomorrow’s a blank canvas.
Tomorrow’s a blank page.
It holds endless possibilities.
The very best is yet _________.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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The Fly in the Ointment (Blog #570)

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This morning I woke up at four-thirty in order to come back home to Arkansas after spending the lion’s share of this last week in Tennessee on a travel writing trip. Holy crap, y’all–four-thirty is not my finest hour. It was all I could do to pour a cup of coffee and pour myself into the mini-van that took me and another journalist to the Nashville airport at five. Even with the addition of caffeine, I was moving with all the agility of a three-toed sloth as I navigated airport security then went in search of breakfast.

If I haven’t explained it before in writing (and I don’t think I have), travel writing is a job. The way it works is that a business–usually a local or state tourism department–contracts with a public relations (PR) firm in an effort to promote their product (in this case, a particular area of the state and its included businesses). Then the PR firm gathers journalists from around the region or country, flies them in, arranges their lodging, and busses them around to various and sundry restaurants, activities, and tourist attractions, many of which donate their food or service in exchange for exposure. The understanding, of course, is that the journalists will write an article for their respective publications based on their honest experience. To be clear, there’s absolutely no pressure from the client or the PR firm to include every business visited or activity completed in your story, nor is there any pressure to say or focus on something specific. Indeed, many travel writers ONLY write about beer and wine or outdoor adventures, and some ONLY write personality profiles (like, about a local craftsman or artist), although they experience MUCH MORE while on “press trips.”

Here’s a picture of our group from this last week (along with some of the trip organizers/sponsors), minus one journalist who left sooner than the rest of us. Our group included writers from Virginia, Texas, Kansas, California, Minnesota, Alabama, and Arkansas (me).

I say all this for context, since someone watching a travel writer’s social media posts could easily get the idea that it’s all fun and games (look at me on the lake!) and that there isn’t any work involved. But there is work involved–it’s up early every morning, and then it’s go-go-go. And whereas a short hike and a glass of wine with a reasonable meal sounds like a good day and absolutely nothing to bitch about, travel writing is all of that IN EXCESS. Yesterday we visited two state parks, a beer festival, and a privately leased lake. Two days before that we visited three wineries and one state park. At each stop, someone wants to share their story. So you have to pay attention. You have to remember names. You have to cultivate relationships. Even when you’re tired or your back hurts, you have to be pleasant. Then later, you have to sit down and sort through all your photos and notes, not to mention the six-inch pile of pamphlets, brochures, and business cards you’ve been handed throughout the week and miraculously managed to cram into your already overstuffed suitcase. Eventually you have to somehow make sense of the whole mess. Long after the good times are over and your memories have faded, you have to write a coherent story.

This is us working–taking pictures–at Standing Stone State Park.

Here’s a picture of the area we traversed this week, the Upper Cumberland in Tennessee. The Upper Cumberland is between Nashville and Knoxville. Every pink highlighter mark is somewhere at least part of our group went. Every circled city is somewhere I went personally. Reasonably, a person would visit one or two cities in a week. Maybe three. If I counted right, I visited thirteen. This is why my brain is currently mush.

All that being said, I’m not grousing; TRAVEL WRITING IS FUN. This last week I got to experience half a dozen state parks and many, many good meals that I never would have otherwise–essentially for free. The entire time, I only paid for one thing–a glass of wine (because alcohol, as a general rule, isn’t included with meals.) So that’s pretty fucking great–five days of lovely lodging, five days of being chauffeured around, and five days of adventures and excitement–all expenses paid. As they say, it’s nice work if you can get it.

So get this shit. After five days of the royal treatment, this morning at the Nashville airport I had to pay for my own breakfast. Like, my waitress brought ME the ticket and wouldn’t let me leave until I’d reached into my wallet and given her fourteen dollars and eighty-seven cents (plus tip). The nerve!

Harumph.

This was a serious reality check. A definite departure from Fantasy Land back into The World of Normal. As if that weren’t enough, on my first flight I ended up in THE MIDDLE SEAT (I HATE the middle seat) between TWO DUDES, one of whom was TWICE MY SIZE in height and girth and–I think, technically speaking–took up his entire seat and twenty-five percent of mine.

Just before the plane took off, I texted my friend Marla, “What did I do to make Jesus mad?”

Marla said Jesus was doing me a favor, easing me back into the life of living with my parents and watching Days of Our Lives.

Folded on top of myself and starting to break a sweat, I thought, This is the lord’s definition of easing?

Since this guy had the aisle seat, for two hours I tucked my elbows into my ribcage and leaned toward the window–into the other dude’s space. Now I’m pretty sure I have scoliosis. On top of that, this man (who did seem nice, by the way) FELL ASLEEP, which meant–because I’m a Southerner and didn’t want to disturb him–that I couldn’t ask him to stand up so I could use the bathroom. Which I really needed to do.

So I just held it.

This was ANOTHER reality check. Today’s proverbial fly in the ointment of this last week.

That Jesus–always looking out for me.

Now it’s 11:35 at night, and I’m home and settled in. All told, it took nine hours to make it back to Fort Smith. My Dad picked me up from the airport, and after we went out for Mexican food (I had to pay for that too!), I came home and took a three-hour nap. When I woke up, I unpacked and reorganized my things. This process took two hours, since I went straight from house sitting to this travel writing trip and therefore had multiple suitcases to sort through. Then I started laundry. I’m on my last load now. With any luck at all, I’ll be back in bed within thirty minutes, will sleep through the night, and will wake up tomorrow morning ready to face reality and whatever new adventures come my way.

Ugh. Even if I have to pay for them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

On The Tools (Blog #560)

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Yesterday I started reading The Tools: Transform Your Problems into Courage, Confidence, and Creativity by Phil Stutz and Barry Michaels, a self-help book (surprise) that’s turning out to be one of the most delightful reads I’ve picked up in quite a while. Currently I’m about half-way through. And whereas a lot of self-help books suggest that the answer to your fears, anxiety, and low self-esteem is understanding where they came from (duh–it’s your parents’ fault), the authors of The Tools say that such information by itself doesn’t provide dramatic change. Rather, in order to get the results we all want, we need a set of actions or behaviors to which we can turn whenever stress rears its ugly head.

In other words, we don’t just need to THINK something, we also need to DO something.

We’ve all had the experience of having a bad day, ruminating on negative thoughts, or being overwhelmed by emotions and not knowing how to turn things around. Stutz and Michaels call this state of being “the maze” (because it’s easy to get stuck there), and what I like about their book is that it offers definite ways to get out of it. The caveat, of course, is that you have to practice the suggested methods. You can’t just try them once or twice and expect your life to immediately turn around (bright eyes).

“Turn around, Bright Eyes” is a song lyric, Mom.

That being said, I’ve been toying around with one of their suggestions–the reversal of desire–today and have already noticed a difference. As I understand it, the reversal of desire essentially has to do with fear. That is, we all have certain things we would like to happen in our lives, but often don’t take action to make those things happen because doing so is uncomfortable–or outside our Comfort Zone. The authors put it more bluntly–between everything you have and everything you want is a certain amount of PAIN, and that’s what you’re afraid of experiencing (like, the pain of being rejected). But pain, they say, is the doorway to your desires, so rather than working so hard to avoid it, we could just as easily say, “BRING IT ON.”

I know this sounds twisted, but stick with me.

This afternoon I knew I “needed” to pay bills, an activity that typically induces a certain amount of anxiety for me. But rather than doing something else and AVOIDING the activity (and thus producing an immediate sense of relief), I told myself, I’m not afraid of a little anxiety–bring it on. Well–there must be something about WELCOMING YOUR FEELINGS–because I actually experienced significantly less anxiety while paying my bills today than I normally do.

On a roll, I applied this same strategy to some other paperwork I’ve been putting off–something I’ve known would take me a long time to complete. For over a year I’ve been thinking, It’s more than I can handle. But today I told myself, I’m not afraid of a little panic–bring it on. And whereas I still felt overwhelmed as I began this project, I nonetheless started it and got about ten percent done, which is ten percent more than I’ve had done for the last twelve months.

Another exercise Stutz and Michaels offer is to imagine your shadow. (Picture a situation in which you feel totally insecure and visualize all your feelings as having a physical body and face.) When I did this exercise, I immediately saw myself as an awkward prepubescent wearing elastic-band shorts with all my ribs showing and my butt being as big as a bowling ball. (It’s still as big as a bowling ball, but the rest of me has grown into it.) Then I saw myself in a number of “dorky” family photos that–until today–I would have done ANYTHING to have destroyed forever. These embarrassing self-images apparently came up because one way of describing your shadow is that it’s all the parts of yourself that you’re ashamed of.

But–

The good news is that–according to the book–your shadow is also fearless, and you can therefore visualize it standing beside you whenever you’re scared shitless. For me, this makes sense. I think about that awkward kid, and whereas even now I’m embarrassed of some of the things he did, said, and wore, HE didn’t give a single fuck. He had all the courage and bravery in the world. (It would take all the courage and bravery in the world to wear THOSE shorts.) But seriously–he simply wanted to express himself–and he did.

We all want to express ourselves.

I tried this visualization earlier when I went for a run, and it was really beautiful. I thought about that brave kid running with me–in THAT outfit–and felt freer and more energetic than I have in a long time. And get this shit. I smiled at strangers–people I’d normally be afraid of. Someone waved in my direction, and even though I thought they were probably waving at someone behind me, I waved back. It felt good to be friendly. When I noticed my socks didn’t match, I started to worry. What will people think? But then I thought about that kid again and remembered that both of us are MUCH MORE than our outfits.

Besides, ANYONE can wear socks that match.

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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On Which Glasses You Choose to Wear (Blog #559)

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In my parents’ living room is a large leather recliner. It’s gorgeous, comfortable. One could really get lost in it. That being said, I’ve only once spent any significant amount of time in this recliner–when I was recovering from my sinus surgery–because my mom LIVES in this recliner. Simply put, it’s hers, and my dad and I make a lot of jokes about the fact that we rarely get to use it. Anyway, this morning while I was eating breakfast, Mom said that she’s been getting cold recently and explained, “When you sit in the recliner, it’s right under the air vent.”

So I said, “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

And then my mom, who reads my blog every day, used my own material against me. She said, “Is that what you call being passive aggressive?”

I was stunned.

“Yes,” I said. Then I added–“It’s an option.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we mostly processed my time working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. It was a good experience, of course, but it was also A LOT of information (my therapist called it a “data dump”), considering the fact that I was new to much of what was going on and also new to working with so many people and having “a boss.” Not completely new, of course, but it’s been a while since I’ve worked with a such large group or for someone else–like twenty years.

As I’ve discussed here before, I told my therapist that in new situations I often think of myself as invisible or “not worthy of being noticed,” and it’s therefore shocking when people DO notice me (which they did this last week). She said this belief was “just irritating” and needed to go.

Toward the end of our session, we talked about money. This is a topic my therapist appears to be quite comfortable with, and one I’m trying to get comfortable with. My therapist says the more we talk about money, the more my brain will begin to think, This shit’s all right. Today she said I should pick an amount of money I’d like to make a day that’s not “outrageous” but the thought of which is “just enough to make you nervous.” So I did. Now my job is to simply “will it into existence.” And whereas I understand that this sounds like a bunch of new-age bullshit, my therapist says that if I pair my current work ethic with positive self-talk, the universe will respond favorably.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I told my therapist that one of the over-arching beliefs I’ve held for–well–decades is that “maybe it’ll work for everyone else, but it won’t work for me.” Super optimistic, I know. Anyway, I’ve applied this thinking to my relationships, my health, and my finances. This is the way beliefs work–they don’t just affect one area of your life; they affect everything. Much like tinted spectacles, beliefs are the filter through which we see the world. Like, if you don’t believe in abundance, you’ll never see it. Even if you have a hundred dollars–or even a million dollars–in your pocket, you’ll think, It’s not enough.

Currently I’m sitting in a library surrounded by THOUSANDS of books and ENDLESS potential knowledge. Now, I could focus on the fact that I don’t have enough time to read all these books or the fact that there are a lot of other books I’m interested in that aren’t in this library. (Talk about lack!) Or I could focus on the fact that I have access to ALL THIS INFORMATION–basically–for free. (Talk about abundance!) The way I see it, just like being direct and being passive aggressive are OPTIONS in conversation, seeing lack and seeing abundance are OPTIONS in perspective. Yes, an objective reality exists–there are a certain number of books here. But a subjective reality also exists, and that reality depends solely on your thoughts and your beliefs, on which glasses you–and only you–choose to wear.

Wayne Dyer used to say, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” This is what I’m trying to do–gradually adjust my thinking and beliefs when it comes to my relationships, my health, and my finances. Personally, I’m tired of believing, It’s not enough. For me, it’s lazy–that is, habitual–thinking. Today I told my therapist, “I’m done believing that things work for other people and not me. (As my favorite coffee cup says–Fuck This Shit.) My new thought is–If it can work for someone else, it can work for me.

“THANK YOU!” she said.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

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From Forty Feet Away (Blog #549)

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I’m currently backstage at the performing arts center in Alma working with the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. It’s dinnertime. After two full days of thinking, What the hell did I get myself into?, I’m beginning to find my stride. It’s work, of course–my body’s stiff in the all the wrong places–but today has actually been the most fun I’ve had so far. I guess this is because I’m gaining confidence in the tasks I’ve been asked to complete and also getting to know some of the people I’m working with. I keep telling myself, You can talk to strangers, Marcus. Strangers can talk to you.

Despite the fact that I thought I’d be working with props today (and therefore dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a colorful t-shirt), I’ve spent the entire day (the entire fucking day) painting. This is why you shouldn’t let people know you’re good at something–they’ll keep asking you to do it. (Thankfully, I brought paint clothes to change into.) Last night one of the girls and I worked on the trees for the Tin Man’s House, so my job today has been to finish the rest of that set–touch up the bushes in the back, spruce up the grass floor, and completely redo the base. This has been quite the challenge, matching all the colors, but I’m getting better and better at mixing paints together. I feel like Bob Ross.

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”

Here’s a picture of the base BEFORE I started this morning. Notice that it’s pretty banged up from being on the road.

The base–I’ve been told–is supposed to look like bamboo. (I didn’t get that either.) But apparently in Oz, bamboo is white and shadows are blue. Anyway, in order to make this particular base look like some of the others used in the show, I started with a solid coat of white, sponged on blue all the way around, added blue lines about half an inch or an inch apart (this took forever), sponged on more blue, and finally added some red/brown grass at the bottom. Take a took.

Here’s a picture of the “grass” before. Well, the right side is before. The left side has one coat of sponged-on new green.

Here’s the grass after. I used three–well, I think, five–different greens.

Despite the kinks in my shoulders this project has produced, I really am proud of it. I absolutely adore musical theater–it has such power to positively affect a person–and I love that I’ve gotten to participate from the other side, to play one small part.

When my supervisor saw the completed Tin Man’s House, she said, “Marcus, that–looks–gorgeous!” Someone else said, “That’s the best that thing will ever look.” Of course, I know where all my mistakes are, all the details that could have been “better,” whatever that means. But one of the the construction guys said, “You have to remember that people with cataracts are looking at these sets from forty feet away.” This is a good reminder. Personally, I think it applies not only to musical scenery but also to humans. We’re so tough on ourselves. We pick ourselves apart. We zoom in our bodies and imagine our “flaws” to be bigger than they really are, flaws another might not even see, acknowledge, or care about. From forty, or even four feet away, another might remark, “You–look–gorgeous!”

[Incidentally, I realized on the way to work this morning that yesterday’s blog (#548) officially marked a solid year and a half of blogging. Woowho! And so this journey continues.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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My Emotional Oil Can (#547)

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It’s six in the evening, and I’ve been working–like, honest to god working–since eight this morning. Y’all, this is manual labor–for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz–unloading boxes, painting sets, whatever they want (that’s what I do). I didn’t even know this was a thing, working backstage for a touring musical. But apparently this show hires three or four dozen locals wherever they go. I got involved because I have a friend who runs the performing arts center here in Alma, where the show will go on next weekend.

As I understand it, a show will often “load in” the day before or even the day of a performance and “load out” the day after. However, the crew and all their equipment came in a full week early in order to touch up sets and run rehearsals for anyone new on staff. So this is my full-time job for the next ten days, including today. Anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day, with union-mandated breaks for lunch and dinner. I’m currently on my dinner break–in my car–blogging.

I’ve got an hour to finish writing. And eat something. I should probably eat something.

This morning I helped unload boxes full of god knows what from three semis. I guess the show has four semis, but one isn’t here yet. Then I stood around for a good while doing really not a damn thing. As someone who’s used to being productive every minute of every damn day, this was a challenge for me–to wait. I mean, I’m being paid and WANT to be useful, helpful. But I guess that’s part of the deal–you work when someone asks you to work–which someone did eventually ask me to do. “Can you pick up donuts for everyone?” my friend said.

“Gladly,” I said.

Y’all, I don’t know if this donut thing is going to happen every day, but I personally think god has a sick sense of humor–asking a man who’s trying to lose weight to be the donut runner. Can you believe that I picked up 120 donuts and a dozen bagels for everyone here and didn’t eat a single one of them? Instead, I ate a protein bar.

We’ll see how long my resolve lasts.

At lunch I ran home to grab a change of clothes, as I was assigned to the prop mistress, and she said we’d be painting sets. I think that’s the right term, prop mistress. Regardless, I’m this girl’s bitch, and I’ve even been given an official title–prop head. That means that the other three or four prop people will be my bitches–I think. (I’m trying to not let it go to my head.) Anyway, back to the painting. I thought I gave that up when I quit remodeling houses, but no. I’ve spent the entire afternoon working on Dorothy’s house (that goes through the tornado and lands on the Wicked Witch of the East), the scarecrow’s post/cornfield, and–I think–Aunt Em’s chicken coop.

This process, I hate to admit, has been more stressful than I anticipated. As one of the boards on Dorothy’s house was damaged, I had to start with a blank piece of plywood and mix layer of paint with layer of paint until it looked like old, rickety wood. What’s more, it had to match–or blend–with the rest of the house. Of course, I’ve had to do all this to someone else’s specifications, which has been a humbling lesson for me. I’m so used to being in charge, especially in charge of all my creative endeavors. But today I’ve been the student, “the help.” When critiqued, my ego has hated it. When praised, it’s soared.

Criticism and praise. Two sides of the same coin. Either way, same pay.

It’s fascinating being on this side of a musical, all the little details you’d never think of sitting in your seat watching the show, the lights and cords you never see–the hidden doors and hinges. It all matters. As I’ve agonized over every brush stroke, I’ve thought, The better this is, the more magic it creates for the audience. On the back of the Tin Man’s set, there’s a note that says, “Did you remember the oil can?” This clearly has to do with the show, but I started thinking about the Tin Man and how he represents a person’s heart, and how a person’s heart can freeze up or get rusty if they don’t take care of it with their emotional oil can. Personally, I keep thinking, Am I finding reasons to complain, or to be grateful? Am I taking things personally, or giving grace to others and myself? Am I freezing up, or keeping my heart open?

Am I remembering my emotional oil can?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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On Butt Cheeks and Teeth Cleaning (Blog #537)

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It’s six o’clock in the evening, and I’ve stopped at the library on my way to a dance lesson, telling myself, Thirty minutes to write is thirty minutes to write. I’ve been on this kick the last few days–a little bit at a time, a little bit at a time–so this is just one more example. Earlier today I did a light workout at home–some leg lunges, push-ups, and squats–followed by a good amount of stretching. I found the workout routine on Pinterest. Anything to get started, I told myself. And whereas I didn’t do the routine exactly as “prescribed,” I did do something.

Sixteen push-ups is sixteen push-ups.

After I worked out, I watched a YouTube video about people who have one butt-cheek that’s bigger than the other (like I do). Apparently this is a common thing and can be caused by hamstrings that do more work than they should (and thus keep the glutes from doing their job) or hip flexors that are too tight. Anyway, recently I read that you should basically stop thinking of yourself as an anomaly, like, My hips and my body are uneven, and that’s just the way it is, since somebody, somewhere in history has surely experienced the exact same problems you have and has PROBABLY written or created a YouTube video about their solutions.

In other words, there are answers out there.

This afternoon I got my teeth cleaned for the first time in fifteen months. This is something I tend to put off whenever I’m low on cash, but it’s also something that rises to the top of my priority list whenever I decide to be more health conscious. It’s weird–whenever I’m all into tacos and beer, I think, Screw my teeth. But as soon as I decide to clean up my diet and go running every day, I all-of-a-sudden think I’m more–what’s the word?–deserving of a plaque-free smile. I’m sure I could make something of that, the idea that I don’t think I’m “worthy” to go to the dentist unless I also have a flat stomach, but I’ll leave that one to my therapist. Rather, I think positive actions simply have a synergistic effect–if you’re taking care of yourself in one area, it’s easier to take care of yourself in another.

When I walked into the dentist’s office, there was some kid–a little girl, I think–absolutely bawling her eyes out. At least that’s what it sounded like. I couldn’t see her, but EVERYONE could hear her. This girl had some serious pipes on her, and whatever the dentist was doing, she didn’t like it one bit. Whine, whine, whine. It was terrible to listen to. You should have been there! The lady at the front desk even apologized on this girl’s behalf. “I hope you didn’t come here to relax,” she said.

Like anyone goes to the dentist’s office to relax.

Now it’s time to teach dance, and I’m still thinking about that little girl and how clearly traumatized she was by whatever went on today in her mouth. It was positively awful for me to “witness.” I kept thinking, Is whatever you’re doing REALLY that important? Couldn’t it wait until junior high, Mr. Dentist? Whatever, I’m glad it’s not my job. Still, despite the disruption to my personal peace, I’m impressed with anyone who can vocalize without inhibition, anyone who can let the world know, Houston, we have a problem. I’m in pain over here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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Progress, Not Perfection (Blog #534)

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Today’s thoughts–

1. What’s in your head?

This afternoon I finished reading The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari by Robin Sharma. Written as a fable, the book is chock-full of advice for a better life, but the biggest tidbit of wisdom that’s stuck with me since I read it is “You can’t afford the luxury of one negative thought.” This is because, as my former life coach used to say, negative thoughts are like ants–if you let one in, it will bring all its friends along with it. As a solution to negative thoughts, the book suggested Opposition Thinking or finding a positive thought to replace a negative one. For example–

Negative thought: I’m broke and will never have enough money.

Positive thought: Things can only get better from here.

2. It’s about momentum

The dance studio I used to own was named Momentum Dance Concepts. And whereas I owned MomentumDanceConcepts.com, the website address that everyone knew about and used was ItsAboutMomentum.com. Although I didn’t realize it when I chose the address, it ended up being the perfect “dance slogan,” a pithy piece of advice I could use over and over again. For example, regarding spins, it’s about momentum–if you can “get going,” it’s easy to “keep going.” Anyway, the book I finished today offered the same advice and said that if you can perform small actions, like with respect to your diet or exercise program, consistently, you’ll build the confidence and inner strength required for performing larger actions.

3. A little bit at a time

My typical approach to self-improvement, especially when it comes to diet and exercise, is to “blow it up.” All or nothing. However, lately I’ve been thinking that every time I try this method, I inevitably burn out. Well, now that my birthday celebrations are officially over, I’ve been thinking that I’d like to eat a little better, exercise a little more. My stomach has continued to be upset for over a month now, and I figure eating better and burning off some stress can’t hurt and might help. We’ll see how it goes, but my new mantra is–Today I will do SOMETHING that looks like exercise (go for a walk, do push-ups, do yoga). Today I will make AT LEAST ONE better decision regarding what I put in my body.

In practice, this mantra manifested itself today as walking three laps around a local park, doing nine pull-ups (nine more than I’ve done all year), and NOT drinking any beer.

4. Starry, starry night

I said my birthday celebrations were officially over. Last night I went out to eat with my friends Justin, Ashley, and Joseph (then Ashley, Joseph, and I went to watch Justin play soccer), and that was the last “group activity” for sure. However, I’d intended to drive out to a super-dark spot and look at stars ON my birthday but was too tired to do so after finishing the blog at three that morning. Anyway, I’m hoping to go tonight. It’s just now ten in the evening, so that should give me plenty of time to be fascinated by the heavens and still get plenty of rest (see Number 5).

5. Now I lay me down to sleep

This afternoon I started a book called Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams by Matthew Walker, PhD. So far the book has discussed why some people are “early birds” and some people are “night owls,” the two main kinds of sleep (REM or Rapid Eye Movement and NREM or Non-REM), the effects of caffeine on sleep (and the fact that spiders can’t build a web for shit when they’ve had caffeine), the negative things that can happen when you DON’T sleep enough, and the positive things that can happen when you do.

It’s fascinating.

The sleep book sparked my interest when I saw it in a bookstore a few days ago because my doctor recently indicated that I may not be getting enough REM sleep if I’m not being consistent about WHEN I go to bed and WHEN I wake up. “Just set benchmark times and try to stick to them,” she said. Anyway, I’m only sixty pages in, but I’m already convinced–I need LESS caffeine, MORE sleep, and BETTER quality sleep. So I’m starting tonight, if only by finishing this now and going to bed SOONER than normal.

As the saying goes, “Progress, not perfection.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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The Bright Side (Blog #515)

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Currently it’s 8:00 PM (central standard time), and I’m sitting at a Chili’s restaurant in the St. Louis airport. So far my travels home from Washington, DC, have gone smooth as silk. Nothing like the ones getting there. Rather, everything and everyone has run “one time.” No delays, no hangups. What’s more, after a full weekend of dancing and consequential exhaustion, I got to sleep in late this morning and do some sightseeing, since my flight didn’t leave until 6:55 this evening (eastern standard time). So it’s been a good day.

I should probably clarify my comment about sightseeing. I did NOT go to the Smithsonian or tour the monuments, although I did leave my hotel this afternoon and glanced the Jefferson and Washington monuments from my Uber. I DID, however, go to three bookstores. Lame? Maybe for some. Exciting? Definitely for me. I love a good bookstore. Plus, I discovered a super-cool antique-doorknob shop. I know, I know–you’re probably thinking, This man needs to get laid. And whereas you’d be right, I swear the doorknob store was more thrilling than it sounds. They even had some sweet gargoyle lamps!

The first bookstore I went to was just off Dupont Circle, which is basically set up like a hub or wagon wheel. Ten streets pour into a roundabout which is made up of two circles–the outer circle being for cars or pedestrians, the inner circle for pedestrians only. (Inside that area is a small park.) Well, my Uber driver dropped me off on the correct street, but the WRONG side of the circle. Of course, it wasn’t a problem to walk–I could use more walking in my life–but I had to figure a plan first, since I started to walk around the outer circle but realized that would take too long. Finally I figured it out–Make a straight line. Go to The Center first. Then you can easily find your way to wherever you want to go.

Go to The Center first.

I get so twitterpated about books. I honestly think of looking for them like an adventure. Today while walking to the second store, I ended up one street off, right by a hotel. So rather than walk AROUND the entire block, I cut through the hotel lobby. Well–I tried to at least, since the lobby didn’t open to the other side. But always determined, I nosed my way into an empty conference room and spied a door that said EXIT. At this point, the theme song to Mission Impossible started playing in my head. Slipping through the door, I immediately ran into two delivery men, but I just acted as if I was supposed to be there, on the back loading dock. Quickly, I jumped off the dock and found myself on my desired street, the one with the bookstore. Mission accomplished!

Despite my cloak-and-dagger tales in book hunting, I only bought one book from the three stores I visited. It was eight dollars. I spent more in Uber fares than I did on the book. And whereas part of me considered it all a waste for “just” one book, I had a good time. And when I went back to the hotel (where I’d stashed my bags at the front desk) and drank two beers along with lunch? I thought, Hell, I’m having a GREAT time.

But really–I don’t think the day could have gone better.

Now it’s 9:30, and I just boarded the plane for Tulsa. We’ll take off soon, so I’m rushing. Despite my wonderful day and fabulous weekend, I don’t want to be up blogging late tonight. I’m already ready to crash. But before I wrap up, here’s something–

Well, wait. I had to close my laptop for the flight, which–I guess–went well except for the fact that my bag came back damaged. Shit. One of the handles got ripped off, and the side is torn. So that sucks. But, I talked to an airline agent, and she gave me a travel voucher for $75, which I believe is what I paid for the bag. So thanks to this trip and the airline’s multiple mishaps, I now have $275 in airline dollars to spend. Whoopie.

Anyway, back to the thing I was going to tell you. Last night, about two in the morning, I asked a girl, a stranger who had glitter on her face, to dance. Then after she said yes, I told her I liked her glitter makeup. Her face lit up. “Do you want some?” she said.

I paused.

“Yes. Yes I do!”

Well, the next thing I knew, the girl (who said she was from France) started digging through her purse and covering my face and “little beard” in green glitter that EXACTLY MATCHED my shirt. Talk about fun. Even before we danced, we had this beautiful moment of kindness and creativity. An unexpected surprise. A lightening up.

Oh–by the way–I’m at my aunt’s house now, in Tulsa. It’s one in the morning. I truly am tired, and part of me is so frustrated with this trip. It really was a chore getting to DC and–honestly–exhausting to be there, despite all the fun and wonderful dances and conversations I had. I guess my body just needs a break. Ugh. Things were going so well today, and then the bag thing happened. I mean, I liked that bag. It was a gift from a friend when I announced that I was moving to Austin. And I know–I haven’t moved yet. But still, the bag matched my others. That’s important for homosexuals–matching glitter, matching bags. Okay. I’m letting it go. I’m choosing to look on the bright side. Yes, this too is an unexpected surprise. I have less baggage now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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