On Locard’s Exchange Principle (Blog #975)

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This morning I finished house sitting then spent the afternoon and evening with my friends and former roommates Justin and Ashley. And whereas I’ll spare you the details of our entire day together, I will say that at one point Justin and I drove by Fort Smith’s latest mural project, a house painted by Okuda San Miguel. Y’all, it’s super cool. For weeks the house has been entirely white, a blank canvas. Then just this week it was turned into a rainbow-colored wonder of lines and geometric shapes. And not that this has to do with what I plan on discussing tonight, but the project is cool and was part of my day, so I’m including pictures below.

Currently it’s two in the morning. I got home from Justin and Ashley’s about eleven, but have spent the last few hours unpacking from house sitting and–quite frankly–taking a shower because I hadn’t cleaned up in a few days (so sue me). And whereas I could have put everything back in its proper place tomorrow, I simply got in a mood. Having been gone for a week, I wanted to BE home, to get all my clothes and toiletries in order. Having stepped in dog shit earlier today, I wanted to WASH my shoes.

A random comment I made to Justin and Ashley tonight was that on a weekly basis I use a number of phrases or speech intonations that I picked up years ago from one or more of my exes. “I don’t love the fact that they influenced me so much,” I said, “but they did.” My therapist says that when two people really meet, it’s like a chemical reaction. “Both people are forever changed,” she says. I guess you could think of you and any significant person in your life like two eggs that have been scrambled together (you’re one egg, they’re the other, and the omelet is both of you ). The point being–you can separate the omelet, but the eggs won’t be the same as they were before. Each will have parts of the other mixed within it.

Along these lines, in forensic science there’s something called Locard’s Exchange Principle, which basically says that when someone commits a crime, they will both leave something at the crime scene (a fingerprint, a hair, some blood) and take something from it (a fleck of paint under their fingernail, gravel in the grooves of their shoe, spilled liquid on their jeans). I thought about this tonight as I was unpacking and cleaning up from house sitting. Mostly because I found dog hair everywhere–on my pillow, in my shoes, in my car. Of course, this means that I left my hair (and maybe a booger or two) where I was staying.

Because I’m a giver.

But seriously, the point being that both I and the place I stayed are different than we were before.

Yesterday I blogged about trimming down the number of friends I have on Facebook, and this idea that for better or for worse every relationship and interaction leaves its mark on you is precisely why I’m culling my digital friends. To be clear, I’m not suggesting that all marks left are negative. On the contrary, there are PLENTY of people I follow who are absolute bright spots in otherwise gloomy days. The important thing for me to remember and not take lightly is that any of us can seriously influence anyone else. My dad met a man in prison who introduced him to the idea of not eating “unclean” meat and–long story short–I didn’t eat pork for twenty years. So don’t tell me one person–you or anyone else–isn’t powerful.

We’re talking about bacon here.

If the response of the citizenry of Fort Smith to our latest mural is anything like the response to our previous murals, there will be those who LOVE it and those who HATE it. Regardless, everyone will have a reaction. Likewise, you’re GOING to have a reaction with everyone you meet in person or online. If the connection is strong enough, it’ll be a big one. For example, I know people who are decades past divorces and are STILL bitter. Conversely, I know people decades past divorces who are still BETTER. My point being that you do have some say in HOW you let the chemical reactions in your life change you. Like, okay, this shitty thing happened. (Shitty things happen.) Now are you going to be a man-hater your entire life, or are you going to get your ass in therapy and (finally) deal with your baggage? When you leave another’s house covered in dog hair, are you going to do nothing and inevitably spread someone else’s mess all over your space, or are you going to be more conscious about what you let into your home and, therefore, take the time necessary to clean things up?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Stop buying your own bullshit.

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A Fabulous Day (Blog #776)

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What. A. Fabulous. Day. This morning I had coffee with my friend Mary Ann. I used to teach dance at her cotillion. Oh my gosh, I forgot how much she makes me laugh. For nearly two hours we caught up and cut up. At one point, Mary Ann told me her eyebrows sometimes shoot up when she’s reading my blog. (“I guess everyone says the f-word now,” she said.) Other times, her eyebrows scrunch together. “My eyebrows get quite the aerobic workout,” she said.

I mean, I’m all for a good workout.

This afternoon I lay in the hammock in the shade where I’m house sitting in Fort Smith and read in a couple different books. Then, for a while, I lay out in the sun and read. I know, skin cancer, but it felt amazing. I love the sun. (I hate winter.) Plus, Vitamin D.

I thought about reading all day, but I recently told my Dad I’d mow their lawn (it’s been time for a while now), so I figured today was as good as any. So that’s what I did–drove my little butt over to Van Buren and push-mowed their front and back yards. And whereas it wasn’t awful, it was definitely an effort. Still, the yard looks super-duper. Plus, I probably lost fifteen pounds. Yeah, right. If only it were that easy.

After mowing the lawn, I came back to Fort smith and ate dinner from a taco truck. Then I took a shower and met my friend Megan, who’s visiting from Israel, to hang out. Megan and I met, gosh, almost twenty years ago through swing dancing. She was one of my first partners. Anyway, since we go way back, even though we haven’t seen each other in a while, we just jumped right in.

More catching up. More cutting up.

At one point tonight Megan and I left her house to grab food for her and more food for me, and I insisted on going downtown to see a new mural that was just painted. Check out the picture below. (Please excuse the rude people who parked in front of the mural.) I think it’s super cool. Not just this mural, but all the murals Fort Smith has added over the last few years. That being said, they had to paint over one of the oldest murals in order to put up this new one. Why, I don’t know. Personally, I wish we could have BOTH, but 1) nobody asked me and 2) this isn’t the way life works. All good things must come to an end. The end of one thing is the beginning of another.

The circle of life.

Now it’s 1:13 in the morning, and my heart is full but my body is tired. I got a lot of sun today. That lawn mowing wore me out. My head hurts. My friend’s dog is already asleep beside my feet on the ottoman. Momentarily–not soon enough–I’ll drag myself to the bedroom, and she’ll follow and proceed to hog the lower half of the bed. Hopefully I’ll be too passed out to care. I know I’ll sleep well. I repeat. It’s been a fabulous day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.

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Any Pants Are Dancing Pants (Blog #576)

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This afternoon I met my friend Kim and her dog Bonnie to walk around downtown Fort Smith and check out The Unexpected, the mural-painting project I mentioned a few days ago. Oh my gosh, y’all–it’s so much better in the daytime! Here’s a picture of the mural done by local high school students. Personally, I think it’s super-cool, and I love the subtle message about transformation (caterpillar to butterfly). That being said, I really think that second caterpillar (the same one pictured above with me and Bonnie) should have two eyes instead of one. Or–as Kim said–at least a mouth. But hell, what do I know? Maybe THAT’S the intended message–even one-eyed caterpillars can become beautiful butterflies. (Don’t let anyone keep you from achieving your dream, you little cyclops!)

Here’s one of the murals on Towson Avenue I mentioned the other day. It wasn’t finished then, but now it is. I LOVE IT, and it’s apparently already become a popular spot to have photos taken, as Kim and I saw a couple posing for their engagement photos this afternoon. Eeek–way to go, Fort Smith.

Here’s another one on Towson Avenue, painted by Fort Smith’s own BUFFALO. I assume that’s him in the picture. (And yes, I realize it should be “I assume that’s HE in the picture, just as it should be MY THERAPIST AND I, but–let’s face it–that’d be “extremely” pretentious, and I’m only “very” pretentious.)

Here’s a picture of a sign I found on the inside of a traveling art bus (an old school bus that’s been transformed into a space where kids to make arts and crafts.) The sign says, “Imagination is intelligence with its dancing pants on.” How fun is that?

On a related note, here’s a little-known fact from a dance instructor–any pants are dancing pants if you dance in them.

This evening I met my friends and old roommates Justin and Ashley for dinner with the express intention of going to their house and using their laptop and internet afterwards. (I’ll explain why in a moment.) But before we went to their house, we drove by the new murals so they could see them too and accidentally discovered another one just off Garrison Avenue on 9th Street, a mural that’s not listed on this year’s map. Here’s a picture of it. When I posted this same picture on Facebook, a friend said it was “a bonus mural” and was also done by PREF. (It says, “Side By Side,” Mom.)

Back at Justin and Ashley’s, I sat down to their laptop in order to systematically and one-by-one change every online password I have, which I’m guessing is about fifty. A few weeks ago I discovered a key-logging virus on my computer, and although I haven’t experienced any compromised accounts, I figured this was the best thing to do–get all new passwords. But Justin, who works in IT, said I should change the passwords from HIS laptop and NOT mine–just to be safe. So that’s what I did. Or at least started to do. Halfway through this not-difficult-but-tedious process, I spilled a cup of hot tea all over my pants and–unfortunately–my laptop keyboard. (I had MY laptop out because it has a list of all my online accounts on it.) Shit, shit, shit, I thought, as Ashley immediately grabbed a couple towels and helped me start cleaning up the mess.

Almost instantly, I started having trouble with my keyboard. I’d hit one letter, and another letter would come up on the screen. Then the keyboard stopped working altogether. At this point, I began to seriously freak out–after all, I use my laptop to blog every day, and that’s sort of a big deal for me. (Like, HUGE.) But Justin–who’s ever level-headed and logical–said we simply needed to go to Walmart, buy a large, sealable storage bag and a bunch of rice, then put the laptop in the bag with the rice (and seal it), and the rice should pull the moisture out of the keyboard and–hopefully–restore it to vibrant health. So that’s what we did. Justin said I should leave the laptop in the rice bag for a day or two “and then see what happens.” So now I’m blogging on Justin’s laptop. Thankfully I remembered my blog’s password! (It was one of the ones I HADN’T changed yet.)

Who knew they made 2.5-gallon-sized storage bags?

Ick. I’m really not thrilled about this whole situation. Part of me is rather upset with myself for being so careless and knocking over that cup of tea. That being said–fuck–I’m only human, and humans spill things. Hell, it’s so easy to do here on planet earth, where gravity is like, nonstop. (If gravity doesn’t get your tea cup, it WILL get your thighs. Just you wait.) And really, what good would self-flagellating do? Justin said he took his phone for a serious swim once when he was fishing. I put mine in the washing machine several years ago. THESE THINGS HAPPEN. This thing happened. All I can do is move forward. Justin said even if the rice doesn’t do the trick, I can take my laptop in to be repaired. “It could be a simple fix,” he said, “or it could be the mother board–that would suck–but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Nothing’s the end of the world.”

Then he added, “Except for the end of the world, of course.”

Everyone’s a comedian.

So we’ll see what happens. I’m hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. All my files are backed up online, and even if they weren’t, I’ve lost all my files before. My main concern is the blog, and I can always blog (and blog lite) from my phone if I have to. Unless, of course, I spill something on that too. Anyway, it occurs to me that nothing horrible has happened tonight. I’ve been here all along with my friends, safe in their home. When Justin I went to Walmart, we had a delightful time. We laughed. We made memories. My point is that I don’t have to be worried sick about all this if I don’t want to be. Shit happens, but my attitude is mine to control. I can choose to focus on the good.

Even when my pants are sopping wet, I can still dance in them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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Do Something Unexpected (Blog #424)

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It’s ten in the evening, and Bonnie and I are driving back from Nashville. Well, she’s driving, I’m riding. We got a slow start this afternoon, largely because I wanted to stop downtown and get my picture taken by the famous angel-wings mural, then stop again at McKay’s, a warehouse-sized bookstore outside of town. So we’re just now coming into Little Rock, which means we should be home close to midnight. And whereas I’m wired with coffee and could blog when I get home, I have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m trying to knock this out now.

When Bonnie and got downtown today, there was a long line of people waiting to have their pictures taken with the mural. So we waited. Here’s a picture of the whole sitch. (That means situation, Mom.)

While waiting in line, I was sort of eavesdropping on the people around us, sort of checking myself out in the shop windows, trying out poses for the angel wings–arms spread out like I’m flying, hands on hips like a sorority girl, legs crossed like I don’t give a fuck–you know, possibilities. This went on for a while, everyone talking–Oh my god, it was so nice to meet you!–then Bonnie and I rounded a corner and saw a Rolling Stones lips-and-tongue sculpture like the one we saw a couple days ago. (It must be a thing.) Well, since I’d naughtily sat on the first tongue, I immediately thought, I’ve GOT to sit on this one. I could start a–what’s the word?–tradition.

Ooh-la-la.

So I casually inch closer to this big pair of lips, while Bonnie’s getting the camera out and scooting closer to me in order to crop out the other people who are standing around and not taking advantage of such a great photo opportunity. Then I quietly put my hands on my knees and push my butt toward the giant tongue, like I might for a spanking. (Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not into spankings.) Y’all, up until now, everyone is yak-yak-yaking. But as soon as my butt touches that tongue, everyone shuts up. Then I open my mouth, like “oh my gosh,” or “my, that feels nice,” Bonnie takes the picture, and everyone starts talking again. Later Bonnie said, “You effectively silenced the whole crowd.” Mission accomplished.

Look at the top of the blog for this morning’s photo, below for the one that “started it all.”

The drive home has gone well. I read for a while, first in a book about stand-up comedy (which I finished), then in a book about writing (which I just picked up today at McKay’s). Then it got dark, and Bonnie and I listened to a podcast called Really Dirty Words, about–you guessed it–really dirty words and their histories. I realize this might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it was right up my alley. Today Bonnie and I Iearned about the origins of the c-word and the other f-word, one a derogatory term for women, the other a derogatory term for homosexuals. Both have fascinating stories, like the fact that the c-word was once associated with status, power, and influence, and the fact that the other f-word is now being “taken back” by many in the gay community. (You can’t insult me with a name I call myself). My big takeaway was that what’s unacceptable in speech to one person is often more-than-acceptable to another and that intent can make a big difference.

Here’s something I forgot to mention yesterday. A couple nights ago, we all went out for Bonnie’s birthday. First, we ate at a rooftop bar (very cool, very Nashville), then we went to see a 90s cover band. Y’all, talk about a retro-fabulous time. These guys sang the music I grew up on. I sent my sister a video of the group singing “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls” by TLC, and she replied, “Fun. Also–because we old.” So that felt good. Anyway, in between the rooftop bar and the concert, our group piled onto an elevator with a couple strangers, and I pulled out my camera and said, “Elevator selfie! Everyone in who wants in.”

And just like that, we all crammed together, and it was this beautiful, exciting moment–so exciting I cut half my own face out of the picture. But it was SO MUCH MORE FUN than your normal elevator ride. One of the strangers even asked if I could text her the photo, and I hope even now she’s showing her friends, saying, “You won’t believe what happened to us the other day on an elevator.”

Any mundane thing can be turned into something joyous.

Today while waiting in line with Bonnie, we noticed that almost everyone was doing THE SAME THING at the angel-wing mural. They just stood there and smiled. But once I heard a magician say that if you want to reconnect with wonder and awe, which you only find in the present moment, you have to break up your routines. You have to do something unexpected. For me, this looks like squatting in front of a mural instead of standing, or sticking my rear-end on a humongous tongue, or taking an elevator selfie with strangers. Granted, these are small acts, but this life-long planner is finding that there’s often more joy to be found in small acts of the spontaneous than in big acts of the perfunctory. I’m trying to remember this, that any mundane thing–an elevator ride!–can be turned into something joyous, that “really dirty words” and even life itself aren’t inherently good or bad or boring or fun, that these are things we decide–we decide–in each present moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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