Currently it’s 2:45 in the afternoon, and my friend Bonnie and I just back from Tacos for Life, Fort Smith’s latest chain restaurant, because–tacos. Now we’re back at her house, and I’m blogging. It’s day nine working for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and we don’t start work today until 4:30, which means I have about an hour to knock this out. Tonight’s big show for the public will start at 8:00, and I don’t know how late we’ll work afterwards tearing things down. Tomorrow is “load out,” when we’ll pack everything back in the semi trailer trucks, then the cast and crew will take off down the yellow brick road for another city and another group of local workers.

A few thoughts from this week that have yet to make it onto the page–

1. Follow your own star

This last Wednesday we didn’t have to go into work until one in the afternoon, so I scheduled two hours of dance lessons with a new client–a man and his daughter who were preparing for her wedding. Anyway, that morning I picked out a blue t-shirt, and my first thought was, My pink star earrings would look fabulous with this outfit. But then I thought, Those earrings are SUPER gay, Marcus, and you don’t even know these people. So instead I put in my tiny dinosaur earrings, since they’re much more “subtle.” But then five minutes later I thought, Fuck this. I like the other earrings better. So I wore them.

And the dance lesson went fine.

Later that day I was backstage watching the show, leaning against Dorothy’s house. There were two people sitting next to me, a local couple who I’d seen several times but hadn’t met yet. Then out of nowhere the girl said, “I LOVE your earrings,” and the three of us ended up having the best conversation–about earrings, stage work, where we shop for clothes, and what the hell we’re doing with our lives. Now three people know each other who didn’t know each other before, and–from my perspective–that wouldn’t have happened had it not been for my pink star earrings. So don’t discount your inclinations; be true to yourself even in the little things. God works in mysterious ways.

2. Talk to strangers, even the drunk ones

Last night I went out with my friend Kim to hear her husband play at a local restaurant, and a lady (a drunk lady) pulled Kim out of her seat and started dancing with her. Later the woman came over, and Kim told her that I’m a dance instructor, and she said, “You used to teach at Mercy.” Y’all, statements like this are always a shock to my system, since I hold the inner thought that I’m invisible or that people don’t notice or pay attention to me in the same way that I would notice or pay attention to them. (You’re wrong, Marcus. You’re wrong.)

So get this shit.

When I closed the studio a couple years ago, it was partially due to the fact that I felt like I had a gift to offer my community, but that it was a gift my community wasn’t interested in. (My books and records, especially those last few years, seemed to reflect this notion.) Well, last night just before she left, this woman looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and said, “THANK YOU for all you’ve done for our community.” Both then and now, this compliment brings tears to my eyes, as SO MANY people have thanked me over the years, but I can’t think that anyone has ever phrased their gratitude the way this woman did. “Thank you for all you’ve done for our community.” How important it is to feel both valued and vital by others.

3. Clean up your perceptions

When I closed the studio, I wanted to “get out of this town” as quickly as possible. My attitude was “fuck this place.” That being said, let me be clear–I’m GLAD that I’ve been here these last two years. Hell, I’m glad I’ve been here for my entire life. Not that I think I’ll stick around forever, but my time here, especially these last two years, has allowed me to do a lot of healing and has taught me how to “get right” with my environment–how to see it, accept it, and embrace it for all its strengths and weaknesses. What if I’d left sooner? For one thing, I never would have encountered the drunk woman who told me that my community noticed and appreciated me. I would have been just ever so bitter. So it’s better this way–for me to stay, clean up my perceptions–to be grateful for my community in return.