The Magic of the Color Purple (Blog #956)

Three years ago this Christmas I was in New York City, and my friend Chad said, “You’ve GOT to see The Color Purple. I don’t care if you have to move heaven and earth to make it happen–go.” Well, I did. I bought a balcony ticket for–I don’t know–fifty or a hundred bucks and went all by my lonesome. In short, my life hasn’t been the same since. Within the first two minutes of the opening number, “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” I started crying, and I didn’t completely stop crying until the show was over. Simply put, it was a soul-grabbing, spirit-moving experience, the story of an abused teenager/woman and her journey of self-empowerment.

For the last three years, hardly a week has gone by that I haven’t listened to at least one of the songs from The Color Purple. Some of my favorite lyrics are–God works in mysterious waysOpen up your eyes, see what God has done–and I believe I have inside of me everything that I need to have a bountiful Life. Needless to say, a few months ago when I learned that The Color Purple was touring and would be in town tonight, I snatched up two tickets on the seventh row. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

So get this shit.

Last year I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and last month I worked backstage for the national tour of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. I guess this is how you get your foot in the door, since earlier this week my friend who hired me to work for these musicals (in Alma) recommended me to work backstage for The Color Purple (in Fort Smith). And whereas the job was to start at eight in the morning and I hate mornings, of course I jumped at the chance.

Y’all, today I woke up at six-thirty. Before the sun was even up. And whereas I’m a dipped-and-dyed night owl and, therefore, hate to admit this–it wasn’t awful. Actually, more and more I’m finding that mornings are rather agreeable to me. Maybe this comes with getting older (damn it), but it’s like the world is quiet and I can think. I have more energy.

No kidding, I showed up to the theater EARLY.

WHAT has happened to me?

As I have for the past two shows, I was assigned to PROPS this morning. I will forever be amazed at how multiple semi-trailer trucks can be unloaded and loaded back up in a single day, as one fellow worker commented, “all for a two hour show.” (My thought was, Totally worth it.) Anyway, in order for all this to work seamlessly, there must be order, and the more experience I get backstage, the more I appreciate the structure of the whole thing. The carpenters work on the set, the electrician work on the lights and sound, the props crew set up (part of) the orchestra pit, lay down the Marley floor, and–duh–set out the props.

It takes a village.

Something that’s been on my mind lately and especially today is how much power one person has to either bless or stress someone else. For example, having worked backstage a couple of times before today, I’ve been around some really pleasant people (who smile and say thank you) and some really unpleasant people (who yell and scream and act entitled). Either way, incidentally, all the work gets done. It’s just a matter of whether it gets done with a good attitude or a bad attitude. More and more, I see this as a choice, not just how I behave, but also how I respond to someone else’s behavior. Because I control whether I frown or smile. I can’t control how anyone else looks at me or treats me, but I can control that; I can control my reaction. Even when I get stuck with a sourpuss supervisor, I think, Am I going to make this day a good one or not?

Fortunately, my supervisor today, Whitney, was anything but a sourpuss. Rather, she was quite delightful. Y’all, it doesn’t take much. She said, “How are you?” She said, “Where are you from?” She literally called us friends. What’s more, she and the other folks on our crew made jokes. One guy noted that one of the boxes we unloaded said–I think–Magnum Ultra. He said, “That’s my stripper name.” We all tossed around comments like this one all morning. Seriously, a light-hearted attitude makes all the difference. I thought, I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I got up early.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and I’m at a coffee shop. At one all of us locals got cut for the afternoon, so I met my parents for lunch and then came here. Shortly I plan to meet a friend for dinner, and then we’ll see the show. After that, I’ll return backstage to work load out until–I don’t know–midnight or after. So, this is a long day.

But this is a good day.

Our days here are limited.

In “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” which is set in a hymn-singing, gospel-believing church, there’s a lyric that goes, Hallelujah! Today’s the day God has made. You don’t believe in God? That’s fine. My point is that today is special and unique. Never again will the sun shine quite the same way, and never again will you have THIS chance to smile, THIS opportunity to be kind to those around you. As one mystic has pointed out, THIS day will never come again. More and more I realize that today is a gift–and that my days here are limited. One day I’ll wake up, either early or late, and I’ll never wake up again. At least on this earth, at least in this body. So often I judge my life for not being “bigger,” “better,” but the truth is that this kind of thinking disconnects me from the magic of this present moment–the magic of a stranger’s kindness or laughter, the magic of lunch with my parents, the magic of the color purple.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If another's perspective, another's story about you is kinder than the one you're telling yourself, surely that's a story worth listening to.

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The Tendency of Life (Blog #668)

After two days of feeling like crud, I woke up feeling better today. In fact, when I woke up at eight this morning I felt so much better that I couldn’t go back to sleep for over two hours. What finally did the trick was a visualization/relaxation album I found on my music subscription service. You know–relax the top of your head, relax your shoulders, all is well in the universe, and shit like that. Anyway, I’ve pretty much felt fabulous all day–no sinus junk, more energy.

I can’t tell you how exciting this is.

I’m attributing my health’s upswing to a number of things. First, there’s a probiotic that saved the day last year when I had a three-month-long sinus infection, so I’ve been hitting that twice a day (by swabbing it up my nose) since I woke up sick Friday morning. For sinus infections, it’s seriously a miracle. Second, I’ve been taking Zicam, Airborne, and bone broth in order to support my immune system. Third, I’ve cleaned up my diet by eliminating or severely cutting back on wheat, dairy, soy, sugar, and alcohol. And not that any of this is fun (or tastes like chocolate cake), but I sure enjoy the results.

Despite feeling better, I’ve taken today easy. This afternoon I read for a couple hours, did my physical therapy exercises for my knee (I had surgery to repair my ACL last month), then took a nap. Then this evening Mom made dinner, and all of us watched the live(ish) version of the musical RENT on Fox. I say live(ish) because one of the actors, Brennin Hunt, apparently injured his foot during dress rehearsal yesterday, so most of tonight’s footage (no pun intended) was from a previously filmed dress rehearsal. Still, having an injured leg myself, I thought it was pretty cool that in tonight’s final scene (which was live), Brennin appeared not only in THE cast but also in A cast.

The show must go on!

While watching tonight’s show, I finished my very first knitting project. And whereas I wish I could tell you what it is, I can’t because it was just for practice. Still, I’m super proud of it, since it’s my first “thing,” and I didn’t drop any stitches. (Drop a stitch is knitting talk for fuck up.) Anyway, it occurred to me while I was working on this project that every stitch is important. Just drop one of those suckers, and the whole thing will be off. (I know, I dropped plenty of stitches initially and had to start all over.) Likewise, when it comes to healing, or even one’s life, everything you do counts. There’s no such thing as an insignificant action or day. Everything links together.

The idea of abundance has been on my mind today. This morning when I searched for visualization/relaxation material on my music subscription service, I noticed that one of my favorite authors, who previously had only one album on the service, now had fifty-two albums on the service. Holy crap. If I were to order just one of those albums on Amazon, it would cost eighteen dollars. That’s nearly a thousand dollars worth of material I have at my fingertips for free (or rather, for $9.99 a month). I don’t know, I guess I’m trying to see abundance where I didn’t see it before, to recognize that it doesn’t just come in dollars. It also comes in information, health, and time–time to read, time to rehabilitate and heal, and time to learn new skills.

Time to drop a stitch and start over again.

Drop a stitch and start over again. The show must go on. Recently I rewatched Bill Moyers’s interviews with Joseph Campbell, and my man Joe, while talking about facing your challenges with courage, said, “I think of grass, you know. Every two weeks a chap comes out with a lawn mower and cuts it down. Suppose the grass were to say, ‘Well, for Pete’s sake, what’s the use?'” In other words, we all get knocked down, but the tendency of life is to get back up again. That’s something I’m learning by watching and experiencing my body healing, that it wants to try again, that it wants to find balance, and–more importantly–that it can if I’m willing to help it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

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A Synopsis of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Blog #558)

Recently I spent ten days working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. This afternoon, as an act of mourning, celebration, and education, I read the book on which the musical and movie were based–The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum–for the first time. And whereas the musical and movie contain much of the original story, they leave many notable details out.

Prepare yourself for a rather long (but entertaining) book report.

According to the Baum, Aunt Em never smiles, and she, Uncle Henry, and Dorothy (and Toto) are the only characters who live in Kansas. (Later we find out that the wizard is from Omaha, Nebraska.) There’s no mention of the three farmhands–Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke–nor is there any mention of Miss Gulch, and Dorothy never runs away or encounters Professor Marvel.

When Dorothy is swept up by the tornado and lands in Munchkin Land, she finds out that the land of Oz is divided into four sections–the east, where she’s landed, where the Munchkins live, and that used to be ruled by The Wicked Witch of the East; the west, ruled by The Wicked Witch of the West; the north, ruled by The (nameless) Witch of the North; and the south, whose details we find out later. The City of Emeralds (or The Emerald City) is in the center of all four lands. The Yellow Brick Road goes from the east to The Emerald City, and there’s NO ROAD that goes to the west.

At this point in the story, The Wicked Witch of the West does NOT appear in Munchkin Land, but Dorothy does receive a pair of magical shoes from The Witch of the North, the shoes that used to belong to The Wicked Witch of the East. However, these shoes are silver, NOT ruby, and it’s only at a later point–when Dorothy changes from a red dress into her famous blue and white gingham dress–that she puts the shoes ON. The dress, which she’s brought (in her house) from Kansas is significant because all the Munchkins wear blue and believe that anyone who wears white is a sorceress. So (like Jesus), they see Dorothy as both one of them (or human) and divine.

As we all are.

As Dorothy sets off to see the Wizard–who’s referred to as The Great and Terrible, NOT The Great and Powerful–she quickly encounters The Scarecrow, The Tin Woodman, and The Cowardly Lion, much like she does in the musical and movie. Baum describes The Scarecrow–who’s supposed to have no brain–as saying things “thoughtfully” or “after some serious thought.” At first I judged these descriptions as either poor writing or pure irony, but one could argue that they are neither, as all the main characters clearly possessed that which they were seeking the whole time but simply didn’t realize it yet.

As we all do.

Another interesting point the book makes is that just as The Scarecrow didn’t have a brain (or a heart), The Tin Woodman didn’t have a heart (or a brain). But, for different reasons, one values the head above the heart, and the other values the heart above the brain, so each seeks what is important to him even though both things are “missing.” Personally, I think one should have, value, and use both their brain AND their heart.

In the scene in which Dorothy, The Scarecrow, and The Tin Woodman encounter The Cowardly Lion, the lion asks if Toto is made of straw or tin. Neither, Dorothy says, he’s “a meat dog.”

Before reaching The Emerald City, Dorothy and her friends encounter a number of trials, none of which have anything to do with The Wicked Witch of the West. Like in the musical and movie, one of these trials is the poisonous poppy field, where they initially have to leave the lion–who falls asleep–but later come back to save him. (They haul him out on a cart made by The Tin Woodman and are assisted in pulling it by hundreds of field mice.) When they do reach The Emerald City, they are required to wear green spectacles, which they are told is to protect their eyes from all the shiny objects and is something everyone has to do. Later, when it’s found out that the wizard is a fraud (“a humbug”), they’re told the spectacles are used to fool both the citizens and visitors into believing that everything is green even though in reality it’s not.

The book says that Dorothy and her friends get to see the wizard, but they have to do it separately. The wizard appears in a different form to each one, but asks them all to do the same thing–kill The Wicked Witch of the West. (Because he’s not really a wizard, he’s a afraid of her.) In the musical and movie, he asks that they bring him her broomstick, but the broomstick isn’t mentioned in the book at all–because, like Mary Poppins, the witch carries AN UMBRELLA!

Also, in the book, the witch has ONE EYE instead of two.

So Dorothy and the gang take off a-witch-hunting, but by this point, the one-eyed witch has found out about them, so she sends 40 wolves to have their asses for dinner. (The Tin Woodman chops their heads off.) Then she sends 40 crows. (The Scarecrow breaks their necks.) Then she sends a swarm of bees. (They break their stingers on The Tin Woodman’s chest.) Then she sends 12 Winkies, which are yellow, by the way, the same way the Munchkins are “blue.” (The Lion scares The Winkies off.) Finally, the witch sends the winged monkeys, whom she controls by means of a golden cap. The caveat–whoever has the golden cap can only command the monkeys three times, and this is the witch’s final “wish.”

But the monkeys succeed. (In the musical, a creature called The Jitterbug causes the main characters to dance until they are exhausted, at which point the flying monkeys scoop them up. The Jitterbug scene was shot for the 1939 movie–during the peak of the Lindy Hop/swing dance/jitterbug era–but was ultimately edited out.)

In the book, it’s only Dorothy and the lion who are brought to the witch’s castle; the other two friends are left in the woods to be rescued later. And whereas the lion is kept outside to starve to death (Dorothy saves him by sneaking him food each day), Dorothy is kept in “the house” to do dishes, much like Cinderella was. Of course, what the witch really wants is Dorothy’s shoes, and when she finally manages to steal ONE of them but not the other, Dorothy gets pissed off and throws a bucket of water on her, and it’s then that the witch both melts and dies.

And Dorothy gets her other shoe back.

At this point, Dorothy and the lion rescue their two lost friends, and since Dorothy has taken the golden cap from the witch, the four of them (and Toto) are ultimately transported back to The Emerald City by the winged monkeys. (These guys are better than Uber.) From here, the storyline pretty much follows the musical and movie, except that when the wizard takes off in the hot air balloon, The Witch of the North DOES NOT show up to save the day. Rather, our heroes are forced to take off on more adventures, and this time they go in search of The Witch of the South–Glinda–who lives in a land where everything is RED and sits on a throne made of RUBIES.

MGM (who made the movie) obviously COMBINED The Witch of the North with The Witch of the South.

Nowhere in the book (that I remember) is the phrase “lions and tigers and bears–oh my!” used. However, while the four friends are going south in search of Glinda, the come upon a land where everyone and everything is made of china (The Dainty China Country), and each of the characters except the lion says, “Oh my!”

Once the four travelers reach Glinda, she indeed teaches Dorothy how to use her magical shoes in order to get back home. But first she uses the golden cap, which Dorothy gives her in exchange for her help, to call three times upon the winged monkeys ato The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City (as the wizard asked him to do when he left in the hot air balloon), The Tin Woodman back to rule The Winkies in the west, and The (no-longer) Cowardly Lion back to rule a particular forest.

So Dorothy clicks her heels together three times and is whisked (in three steps) across “the desert” and back home to Kansas. (The shoes fall off her feet along the way.) However, during this whole ordeal, she never says, “There’s no place like home.” She does that earlier, when she meets The Scarecrow, who says he doesn’t understand why Dorothy would want to go back to dull, drab Kansas instead of staying in colorful Oz. “This is because you have no brains,” she says. “There’s no place like home.”

In the musical and movie, it’s strongly indicated that Dorothy was stuck unconscious by the tornado and has simply dreamt her adventures. But in the book, Dorothy comes running up to the farm, and Aunt Em says, “Where in the world have you come from?” Dorothy replies, “From the Land of Oz. … I’m so glad to be at home again!” And that’s it–THE END. Nothing is said about the tornado or the fact that Dorothy used their house as an airplane to go on vacation but didn’t bother to bring it back.

So that’s CoCo’s Cliff Notes for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. But before closing, since I’m so fascinated by the symbology of this story, here a few final things that stood out to me in the book that didn’t stand out to me in the musical or movie:

1. On going into the forest

Joseph Campbell says, “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path; you are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s way, you are not going to realize your potential.” So I think it’s appropriate that there’s NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch of the West. Like Campbell says of all true heroes, Dorothy and her friends must blaze their own trail.

Symbolically speaking, the forest Dorothy and her friends enter en route to The Wicked Witch represents Dorothy’s unconscious, and The Wicked Witch represents her shadow. (It’s all the same.) The Guardian of the Gates of The Emerald City is the one who says there is NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch and explains WHY this is the case–because “no one ever wishes to go that way.” Exactly, no one WANTS to face their shadow. Why would they? It’s dark, dangerous, and scary as hell. But it is–ultimately–the way home. As the saying goes, “The only way out–is in.”

Along the same lines, Caroline Myss says, “Always go with the choice that scares you the most–because that’s the one that’s going to require the most from you.”

2. On recognizing your own power

When The Wicked Witch enslaves Dorothy, she KNOWS that Dorothy could use her silver slippers to escape if she only knew what to do with them. But she explains, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” I think this is a gorgeous lesson, the perfect reminder that we are all more capable than we recognize; it’s just a matter of learning how to rise above rather than be intimated by that which at first blush seems scary. Jesus obviously knew how to do this–he slept through a storm, walked on water, and danced on his way to the cross. The reason they called him Master? Because it’s not easy.

But it is possible.

3. On being wonderful

When Glinda is preparing to send The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City, she says it’s because “it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler,” and The Scarecrow says, “Am I really wonderful?

Glinda’s reply?

“You are unusual.”

Oh the shade! (Shade is when you insult someone discreetly, Mom.)

But seriously. Perhaps these two things–being wonderful and being unusual–go hand in hand. I don’t know–we so often want to be like everyone else. But the truth is, we are ALL unusual. For all our similarities, there will never be another YOU or another ME–ever, ever, ever. So why not own and celebrate our differences? Don’t they make us wonderful?

Don’t they make us FULL of wonder?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We may never be done, but that doesn't mean we'll never be complete. And surely we are complete right here, right now, and surely there is space enough for the full moon, for you and for me, and all our possibilities.

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A Form of Healing (Blog #391)

Today I wore a vintage sailor’s cap and a vest, and tonight during our monthly comedy show, the other performers referred to me as both “Oliver” and “a Newsie.” I saw my therapist this afternoon, and she said I looked very “Fiddler on the Roof.” (My response to this was to start singing, “If I were a rich man.”) But clearly everyone agrees–I look like a character from a musical, someone one who can sing and dance but doesn’t have a lot of money.

Sounds about right.

My therapist’s big push this afternoon had to do with patience and abundance. We talked mainly about my quirky immune system and how I’m currently dieting and mentally considering everything from paleo to past-life regression as viable options to figure out my body’s problems and therefore cure myself. My therapist’s suggestion was to hang tight, be patient. She said it sounded as if I’d landed in the right place with both my primary care physician and immunologist, that surely they could find an answer. “In the meantime,” she said, “if your body is tired, take a nap. I know you’re hung up on being productive, but you’ve produced for years. It’s okay to rest. No one is judging you. You’re THE ONLY ONE judging you.”

Boy, does she know me, or what?

If the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

In terms of abundance, she said she thought I’d made a lot of progress seeing both the world and money as abundant. Now, she said, it’s time to focus on seeing health as abundant, to believing that my body and my doctors can and will eventually find an answer to whatever is going on. I don’t mind saying this is a challenge for me. I’ve dealt with sinus infections for so long and have been sick so much recently, it’s tough to believe–like really, deep-down believe–that things can turn around. That being said, the way I see the world has completely turned around in the last several years, as has my internal health, my mental and emotional health. So surely if the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

Fingers crossed.

Tonight at the comedy show, I went around to all the tables close to the stage, introduced myself, and passed out little slips of paper that we use for one of our skits. This is something I almost always do, but I normally do it with a glass of scotch in my hand. Tonight, however, since I’m on this Autoimmune Paleo Diet, I did it completely sober. Y’all–talking to strangers is MUCH easier when you’re tipsy. I mean, they don’t call alcohol a social lubricant for nothing. That being said, I survived. And get this–I met one lady who ended up giving ME a pep talk. She’d asked if we ever bombed, and I said, “MOST of the show usually goes well, but there are always moments when we struggle.” Then she said, “Yeah, but you’re up there trying, putting yourself out there, and that’s what matters.”

Isn’t that great? I said, “I’m going to blog about this tonight.” (I think she thought I was kidding.) And get this too–she was wearing a necklace that said, “Hope.” Well, I’ve been really working on hope lately, so it was the perfect reminder. Maybe someone else would say my seeing this lady’s necklace was just a coincidence, but I took it as a personal message from the universe that I was on the right track, that hope was actually an okay thing to do. This is something I’ve been thinking about today, whether the universe puts certain people and messages in my path (or anyone’s path), or whether those people and messages were there all along and I just finally noticed them. I’m honestly not sure that it matters, since it seems that when a person’s subconscious is ready to work on something, it can clearly use anything–a therapist, a total stranger, a necklace–to get its point across.

Healing is possible.

Tonight the lady I met, along with her husband, said, “Don’t be nervous. If your family’s not here, we’ll be your family tonight. We’ll cheer you on.” How cool is that? For me it felt like that moment in Oliver! when he gets adopted by The Artful Dodger. Consider yourself at home! But seriously–I think abundance starts this way, recognizing a stranger’s smile or someone’s random and generous offer of support for what it is–a form of healing. And I am slowly starting to believe this, really deep-down believe this, that the world is our home, that people are good, and that healing is possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

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Radiant (Blog #297)

I guess I wore myself out dancing yesterday, as I’ve had all the energy of a slug today. Not even a young slug–like, a retired one with a bad hip. That being said, I did clean up and shave my face, so I at least look like a human, even if I don’t feel like one. It’s midnight-thirty now, and I really need to knock this out in about an hour and get some sleep. I’m up early tomorrow and have a full day, then Mom’s mastectomy is Tuesday. So it’s go-go-go, then wait-wait-wait. Provided everything goes as planned with Mom, things should slow down later this week. One day at a time, sweet Jesus.

It’s okay to write a short blog, Marcus.

Tonight I went to dinner and a musical in Fayetteville with a friend who doesn’t want their face or name splattered all over the internet. This sounds more mysterious than it actually is. For dinner, we went to eat at Pesto Cafe, a quaint little Italian restaurant that has red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and everything. Y’all, our waiter had the waistline of a prepubescent teenager. The Levi’s label on the back of his pants said they were 25 inches around. I think my left thigh alone is that big. Anyway, he was a great waiter, mostly because he gave me a compliment. (It really takes very little for me to love you forever.) Here’s what happened. We’d just sat down and were ordering wine, and the waiter looked at me and said, “May I see your ID?” So I started reaching for my driver’s license, and he said, “I’m SURE you’re old enough, but you’re just so radiant.”

Radiant. (I’m radiant.) Can I start putting that on my resume?

Seriously, my friend rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t stop laughing out loud. No one has ever used that word to describe me, certainly not another man. (Not that I minded, but I’m not even sure this guy was old enough to drive.) Also, I’m pretty sure “radiant” is a 32-inch-waistline-or-above word, so maybe he just meant I had oily skin.

Regardless, he got a good tip.

Come to the cabaret.

The musical we saw was Cabaret, as in “Life is a cabaret, old chum. Come to the cabaret.” If you don’t know the plot, it’s a little naughty, but also delicious. It’s about a nightclub in Berlin just before World War II and showcases the lives of dancers, prostitutes, and their friends (and customers). The cast did a fantastic job, and since we sat on the second row, we got to see everything (even the spanking) up close and personal. The star of the show is the emcee, a character with obvious homosexual leanings. In the beginning of the show he says, “Leave your worries at the door. There are no worries here.” But by the end of the show, things have gone dark, and the emcee ends up in a prison camp because of his sexuality. For two hours it was “life’s a party,” then all of a sudden it was “life’s a bitch–a real bitch.” You could hear a pin drop in the theater.

Walking out of the auditorium, I thought, That wasn’t exactly the feel-good musical experience I had anticipated. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I appreciate the realness of it, since bullshit like that actually used to happen, people being killed for something they can’t change about themselves. We’ve made a lot of progress, but it still happens today. This is the planet we live on. This is how we’re capable of treating each other, pinning a pink triangle on another person and labeling them “less than human.”

Pink triangles were what the Nazis used to identify homosexuals, Mom. Like cattle branding.

On the inside we’re all shining.

Fundamentally, I don’t believe anyone is better than anyone else. Maybe you have a smaller waistline than I do and maybe I can dance better than you can, but we’re all human here. Period. There is no more-than or less-than in the human category. Regardless of sexuality, skin color, or religion, we all get tired, we all fall down. Each of us has a heart that bleeds and breaks, and each of us has a heart so full of love that it’s impossible to exhaust it. Just when you think you can’t love someone or something anymore than you currently do, you find yourself doing exactly that. Sure, we forget it plenty of times, but on the inside we’re all shining. This is what gives me hope, knowing that we are all radiant.

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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Finding a Better Version (Blog #267)

Well here we are again, blogging. Welcome back to the world-wide web. I just finished breakfast, and up until a few minutes ago, the house was quiet. Dad was out running around. Mom and even our dog, Ella, were sleeping. But now Dad is home, shouting into the telephone, and Ella is rolling around the floor. Like they own the place. So I have my headphones in and am trying to find my happy writing place while listening to Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits, but it’s not really working. Emotionally, I’m frustrated. Physically, my skin is itching, my head is full of snot, and I’m pretty much “done with this shit” on every level.

Still, I’m trying to be pleasant.

Last night I dragged my ass out of the house to attend the musical Finding Neverland at Walton Arts Center in Fayetteville with a friend of mine. I got our tickets at the last minute, so we didn’t end up in the same row, but we did end up really close to the stage. This made the costumes, characters, and staging even more magical than they already were.

The show tells the story of how JM Barrie came to write Peter Pan and is absolutely delightful, although not completely historically accurate. (I’ve read a lot about Peter Pan.) For example, Barrie based Peter Pan on the children of the Davies family. The show says he met Mrs. Davies and her four boys after her husband died. In reality, Barrie met Mrs. Davies long before her husband passed away and wasn’t particularly liked by him. Also, there were five boys, not four. Michael, whom the character Peter Pan was most strongly based on, came to hate the association.

I don’t particularly have a problem with the fact that the show had to twist the facts in order to tell its story. Still, the commercial for the show does say it’s a true story, not based on a true story, and that’s clearly misleading. Maybe I’ve read too much about it to be objective. One of the things I love about musical theater is that it takes a messy, imperfect world and turns it into perfection. Look! Everyone’s doing a grapevine in unison! And the show certainly did that. Again, it was magical. Honestly, I like the stage version of Barrie’s life better than the one you can find on the internet. Perhaps we all deserve this–a better version of ourselves.

Today I spent some time editing my social media settings, turning off the majority of my push notifications. (Mom, push notifications are the pop-up messages that alert you, “John just liked your tweet,” “Debbie just tagged you in a photo,” or, “Jack just went to the bathroom at Western Sizzlin’.”) Additionally, I unsubscribed from a number of email lists and “unjoined” several groups on Facebook. All of this was in an effort to have fewer distractions, simplify, and spend less time in the virtual world and more time in the real one.

Now it’s five in the evening, and I’m ready to go back to bed. I’ve been debating on getting out tonight, going to a party or running to the natural health food store to try “one more thing.” But I think when this is done, I’m going to take a nap, stop trying so hard if only for a night. Even if the house can’t be quiet, maybe I can be. Chill out, Marcus. Rest. I’ve been thinking today that we’re allowed to rewrite our stories. This isn’t about changing the past, but rather about changing the future. Even if we’ve always done something one way, we can do it differently. We can spend less time online, take better care of ourselves, try to be pleasant, whatever it takes to find a better version of ourselves.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Storms don’t define us, they refine us.

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Lord Voldemort, Zac Efron, and My Fingernail (Blog #266)

Welcome to my daily health report. Things don’t look good today; they’re definitely worse than yesterday. I’ve been up for about an hour, and so far I’ve coughed up, blown out, or otherwise ejected enough snot from my body to fill a mason jar. It’s fun to talk about, I know. I’m assuming this is a cold or sinus infection. If it is a sinus infection, it’s especially frustrating, since I thought I was making serious headway in that department. (Get it–headway?) Regardless, I’m think I’m going to start referring to this crud as Lord Voldemort, since it’s most certainly of the dark lord and is apparently going to take a wizard to stop it.

Expecto mucoso!

Last night my friend Bonnie and I went to the opening night of The Greatest Showman, the new Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron (Zac Efron!) movie about PT Barnum. Thinking it would be sold out, we snagged tickets yesterday afternoon and showed up early. Well, apparently everyone was watching Star Wars, since the only people in our theater were me, Bonnie, two little boys and their mother, and a dozen high school cheerleaders. A musical, the film is beautifully shot, sung, and choreographed and tells the story of how PT Barnum started his famous circus and consequently provided a home for society’s outcasts–little people, bearded ladies, etc. Based on the previews, I was really expecting–and wanting–to cry, but I didn’t. This, I think, had to do with the writing–I never fully identified or cared about any of the main characters. Still, it was the perfect way to get out of the house and see Zac Efron on the big screen. As one of the high school girls proclaimed when the audio suddenly got quiet, “God, he’s pretty!”

I hollered back–“Right?”

Currently I’m in a mad dash to get this blog done. I’m going out with a friend this evening, and I expect it to take every bit of energy I possess. That’s fine, since I can take it easy this weekend, but I don’t want to get home tonight and have any of my “have tos” undone. So I need to finish blogging, practice chi kung, and definitely take a shower–I’m sure my friend would appreciate that.

Every day that I don’t feel well, I tell myself I’m going to take it easy and write a short blog–fuck writing–but I haven’t figured out how to do that yet. But now I’m under 500 words and hoping this will be the last paragraph, so maybe I’m making progress. Earlier I sliced into my fingernail with a knife while cutting a sweet potato. My fingernail is only a couple millimeters thick, but it stopped me from slicing into my finger. Perhaps this is what hope is, something little that makes a big difference, something that says tomorrow will be different than today, something that says, “That was a close call, but you’re going to be just fine.”

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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Courage and Those Who Hold Our Hands (Blog #205)

When I woke up this morning around nine I coughed up some bloody snot. It looked like what I felt like the time. Now it’s four in the afternoon, and things could be better, things could be worse. Statistically speaking, my brain is functioning about sixty percent–well, considering I can’t figure how to end this sentence, let’s say forty-five. Anyway, I figure it only goes downhill from here, so I’m blogging now. Plus, I’m planning to go out this evening to see An American in Paris, the musical, since that seems like a good gay way to wrap this trip up. Anyway, the show starts in less than four hours, and the clock’s ticking.

Last night I went dancing again with my friend Kaleb, this time at a country-western bar called The Dirty Bourbon. Is that a great name or what? Anyway, The Dirty Bourbon is primarily a straight bar, but I guess they’re accepting. Kaleb and I were the only guys I saw dancing together, but I did see some women dancing together, and–most importantly–nobody got their ass kicked. Actually, I saw several people smiling at us, one guy at the bar complimented our dancing, and a lady in the crowd videotaped us doing the rumba.

Situations like the one last night are always affirming for me in the best way. Typically, if a guy holds my hand–let alone dances with me–in public, I usually feel like jumping out of my skin and running away because I’m afraid of what everyone else will think, say, or do. I know straight people have their problems–everyone has their problems–but I imagine this isn’t one of them, being afraid to publicly show affection for or connection with another person. A while back a guy held my hand on Garrison Avenue in downtown Fort Smith, my hometown. As we got close to our car, a couple dudes were standing outside a rather seedy bar, and I thought, Thank God I know a good plastic surgeon because this is not going to end well. Everything in me wanted to drop my date’s hand, but I didn’t. Then as we passed the dudes, one of them said, “Hey, fellas.”

And that was it.

Granted, I know bullshit happens to gay (and straight) people all the time. Strangers are total assholes, say mean things, commit acts of violence. Sometimes parents even cut ties with their own children when they come out of the closet. That being said, thankfully, my experience has been quite the opposite. Despite the fact that I’ve spent much of my life afraid of rejection and confrontation based on my sexuality, so far the only person to make a big deal about it has been me. Part of me still worries, of course. Last night at the country bar I was very aware that Kaleb and I were the only gay guys dancing together. But why should fear stop you from doing something you not only want to do but also have a right to do? Obviously, it shouldn’t.

This morning my sister and I took Christopher to an acting class. Y’all, it was absolutely adorable. The teachers were animated, patient, and amazing. There were maybe fifteen or twenty kids, and the teachers taught them about stage directions, getting into character, and memorization. Some of the kids were shy and timid. Others like my nephew had no problem projecting or asking questions (that didn’t actually have to do with acting).

For one of the exercises, the kids had to memorize a line from the movie What’s Up, Doc? The line was, “What do you think I am, a piece of ripe fruit that you can squeeze the juice out of and cast aside like an old shoe?” Best quote ever, right? Hell, I should probably use it on a few people, maybe add it to my Tindr profile. (I don’t have a Tindr profile. My therapist said the guys on there have a quality rating of “zero point fucking shit.”) But I digress. In addition to memorizing the line, the kids had to come up with a character, stand on stage, and perform the line as that character. (One girl was a cat.) Anyway, here’s Christopher performing as a robot. My sister and I were super nervous for him, but I don’t think he was nervous at all–and he nailed it.

This afternoon my sister and I took both the boys to a costume-themed birthday party at a local park. Ander dressed as “Captain Hook,” but he really just looked like a pirate. My sister’s husband said, “Don’t say anything.” Isn’t he adorable? (Christopher dressed as Peter Pan and was adorable too, but I forgot to take pictures of him. Since I took so many this morning, I hope he doesn’t end up in therapy due to this one oversight.)

At the party there was a piñata, and if you’ve never seen a bunch of blindfolded toddlers swing a stick at a moving paper-mache cat head, you’ve still got a lot of life to live. It was really more cute than I could handle for one day. Well, even before all the kids got a chance at swinging the stick, the piñata burst open, and every single one of those children went from zero to sixty in 1.2 seconds. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. They were on that candy like white on rice. My head’s still spinning thinking about it.

As I’m sure you know, sugar is the great motivator, so the kids were quickly all over the playground equipment. For a while I looked after Ander, and he kept wanting to go down this one little slide over and over (and over) again. I kept asking if he wanted to try a different one, a longer, taller one, but he kept saying, “No, it’s scary,” so we kept returning to the familiar. Even at that slide, every time he said, “Stand at the end to catch me–closer–no, closer.”

I suppose we are all timid like this now and then. After all, life can be a big, scary place. Of course, there are days we wake up feeling as if we can conquer the world, and these are the days we stand proudly and confidently on the stage of life. Other days–maybe most days–we feel as if we’re swinging a stick blindfolded, just hoping to connect with what we want. These are the days when our brains function below one hundred percent, when we are shy and unsure of our right to be here, to taste and enjoy all the goodness life has to offer. But I’m starting to believe that courage always looks like trying something even when you think you’re not ready, even when you’re afraid. Thankfully, we often have others who are willing to take us by the hand and courageously walk, dance, or slide into the unfamiliar with us. This reminds us, of course, that no one is alone. Also–more often than not–things turn out just fine and the world ends up being a safer place to live than we realized.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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