On Locard’s Exchange Principle (Blog #975)

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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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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A Fabulous Day (Blog #776)

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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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

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On Creating (Blog #584)

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

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomato, tomato.

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

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

Sometimes I get on a roll.

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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 Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.

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Any Pants Are Dancing Pants (Blog #576)

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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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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

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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The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

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