Flipped Upside Down (Blog #595)

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It’s 7:55 in the evening, and I’m at the local Starbucks. I’m alone, and so far I’ve sat at three different tables. At the first one, I had a video chat with my sister and my nephews. Then, after deciding to stay to blog, I moved to a table with built-in electrical outlets so I could charge my laptop and phone. But the outlets didn’t work. Now I’m at the third and final table, scrunched up in a corner with a giant, not exactly energy-efficient window to my back. So I’m cold. But at least I’m all plugged in and am recharging.

The History of Where I Sat by Marcus Coker.

I’ve felt off for the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday’s therapy session was a lot. I mean, it brought up a lot, mostly around my issues with money and business. Those topics always makes me a little squeamish, although it has gotten better lately, a lot better. (Now I only half-shit myself when discussing money.) Anyway, I came home last night and baked a frozen pizza in order to help me process everything my therapist and I talked about. The only problem was that I left that round piece of cardboard under the pizza when I put it in the oven. (You’re not supposed to do this.) And whereas the cardboard didn’t catch on fire–phew!–it did keep the pizza from cooking properly. This really sucks, when you try to eat your feelings but can’t because you don’t have any kitchen skills.

“You have a lot of talents, Marcus, but cooking clearly isn’t one of them,” my dad said. “You can’t even bake a frozen pizza!”

“Is this you being an encouraging parent?” I replied. “Are we having a father-son moment–is that what’s going on here?”

Today, at least on the outside, has been pretty dandy. This afternoon I had lunch with a friend who made me laugh, laugh, laugh. Then later I had coffee with another friend, and when we discussed my hatred for winter and the fact that my outfit of choice is jeans and a t-shirt, they said, “When you dress appropriately for each season, it’s easier to enjoy them.” So I’m going to work on that, maybe get some thicker socks and a fluffy coat.

I really am trying to take steps to enjoy the colder weather and not be so miserable. Last night before falling asleep I rubbed lotion into my hands and elbows, since they always dry out during this time of year. There’s no reason to add to your suffering, I told myself. A little bit goes a long way. And it’s not like the fall and winter don’t offer up their wonders in exchange for the light and heat they take away. Last night after the pizza incident but before I went to bed, I ran to Walmart to get a new headlight bulb for my car, Tom Collins, since I’d noticed one of them had burned out. Then when I got home, I saw that the sky had cleared (it’s been cloudy at night for weeks), and that the stars were out.

Wow! There was Orion, and next to him Gemini, The Twins. Y’all, it’s been so long since I’ve really gotten to study the sky. All my favorite players from two months ago–Pegasus, Perseus, Triangulum–had all moved from east to west. It was so disorienting–everything that was “right side up” had flipped upside down. (This is the consequence of our earth’s rotation.) My brain didn’t know what to do. Still, all of it was gorgeous, and I actually got excited about what the next few months will gift me in terms of experiences like these, despite the cold package they’ll surely be delivered in.

I came to Starbucks to chat with my sister because I have a meeting online tomorrow and wanted to test out my laptop’s camera and microphone first. Thankfully, my sister agreed to be my guinea pig. And whereas I’d assumed we’d just talk long enough for me to know whether things on my end were working, we ended up talking for twenty-five minutes. There I was in the middle of Starbucks, carrying on a rather loud conversation with my laptop screen and honestly acting a fool, since my sister and I got silly, silly, silly. Anyway, the whole thing put me in the best mood.

It’s weird how you can make such a big damn deal about things in your head. Like, yesterday, I was really worked up about life, and that mood carried over until–sometime–this afternoon. And it’s not like I wasn’t trying to make it go away–I was using every trick I know to stop worrying. But then I quit trying and told myself, Just let it be, Marcus. Just be with the people you care about. Just be here now. Somewhere along the way, my anxiety lifted. Now I’m thinking, What was the big deal about, Marcus? Why all the fuss? It’s weird. Without my trying or even meaning to, me emotions have flipped upside down, like a constellation in the night sky.

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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Our Time Is Coming (Blog #530)

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I’d planned on today being a great day, since I cleared my schedule in order to prepare for my birthday later this week. What could go wrong? I thought. Really, I just had two goals–clean my car, Tom Collins, and get my other car, Garfield, running, since his battery has been dead. But I should be clear–the important thing in my mind was to get Garfield on the road because I love driving him in the fall and thought it would be a fabulous way to spend my special day, tootling around in my antique Mercy Comet.

Everything started off well. I got Tom Collins cleaned up, and even repaired a broken sun visor on the driver’s side thanks to the magic informational library known as YouTube. Before, due to a damaged piece of plastic, the visor kept falling down. So rather than buy an entirely new visor for $75, I fixed it with a screw and a washer for free. Now the visor stays up and can swivel and everything. However, this cheaper method did require cutting the electrical wire that turns on the light when the mirror on the visor is opened. (Since I’d damaged the cord fixing it “my way” before I looked to YouTube, I was one step ahead of the video.) Anyway, I could have survived without the light, but per the video’s optional suggestion, I added a switch on the outside of the visor that can be used to turn the light on and off. Check it out.

I was not so successful, however, in dealing with Garfield this afternoon. For two hours my dad, our neighbor, and I futzed with him–added gasoline, put in a new battery, talked to him real nice and sweet–and still, nothing. He’s just dead as a doornail. And my mechanic can’t take a look at things for at least a week or two. Ugh, I can’t tell you what a serious damper this put on my mood this evening. Granted, I knew this was a possibility (he is an antique car), but I was really HOPING I could get him going in the next couple days. You know, to celebrate. But–once again–the universe had different plans than I did.

Frickin’ universe.

For a few hours after this disappointment, I stewed. It probably didn’t help that I immediately sat down to pay bills after everything with Garfield happened and immediately realized I don’t have money to fix my car or–really–celebrate my birthday, at least how I would like to. HOWEVER, after I soaked in these feelings for a while, they did subside. Eventually I thought, I don’t NEED a car OR money to have a great day. Whatever happens will happen–and it will be fine. Plus, I reasoned, the process of getting Garfield fixed HAS started–that’s the main thing.

This evening I went for a walk to deal with the leftovers of my bad mood and found a one-hundred-dollar bill on the ground. Isn’t just like the universe? I thought. However, when I picked it up, I quickly realized it was a counterfeit. (The paper felt funny. The wasn’t a hologram strip inside. There were Chinese letters printed on it!) So that was another disappointment.

Isn’t that just like the universe?

Shortly after I found the fake money, a total stranger cat-called me as they drove past in their mini-van. I think it was a dude. It’s hard to tell these days. Anyway, they stuck their head out the window and yelled, “YEAH, BABY!”

“Thank you,” I said.

I don’t know how women deal with this sort of thing, since after thanking the guy, it occurred to me to be frightened and offended. I’ve been objectified! I thought. But then I realized that I’m almost thirty-eight, Daddy’s obviously still got it, and it doesn’t quite do for a single adult who posts a selfie every day to complain about being objectified.

Someone–please–objectify me.

About an hour later, toward the end of my walk, I lay down in the middle of the road and looked at stars. Constellations that were only on the horizon this summer are now progressively higher in the sky and, therefore, easier to recognize. Tonight for the first time I clearly identified Aries and Triangulum, in addition to getting a more-defined picture of Perseus, Andromeda, and my darling Pegasus. OH, and I almost forgot–earlier in the evening I saw THE BRIGHTEST shooting star. It was worth everything else that had to happen today in order to get me out of the house in order to see it.

There’s so many glorious things you see when you’re looking up instead of looking down.

During the last bit of my walk home, I started thinking about Aries, the first sign of the zodiac, the one that corresponds to the beginning of spring, which I always associate with hope. I just never knew that she (or he–it’s hard to tell these days) was up there all through the fall and winter. But that’s how it works with the sky–you see “the signs” of the seasons before the actual seasons appear. Personally, since I’m not a fan of winter, I love that Aries will be up there waiting for spring while I’m down here waiting for spring. As I watch her move across the sky, I can remember that life has its disappointments and counterfeit moments, but it also has its shooting stars and springtimes. Yes, as we both bare the cold winter nights, I can think, Your time is coming. OUR time is coming.

YEAH, BABY.

[Screenshot from the Stellarium App. The direction to look for these constellations, at least at three in the morning, is “up.”]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"You can't change your age, but you can change what your age means to you."

Filled with Glorious Light (Blog #480)

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This morning–after 13 hours of traveling and one 5-hour stop to see my cousin in Oklahoma City–my aunt, my parents, their dog, and I rolled into Albuquerque, where my sister lives, at 8:30. Talk about being worn the fuck out. It was all we could do when we arrived to say hello, hug everyone, and unpack the overloaded car. I shit you not–my parents brought their digital scale. Granted, my dad’s on a diet (he calls my mom The Food Nazi), but still–I found everything except the kitchen sink while unloading things this morning–three boxes of crackers, Dad’s insulin, even Mom’s FOOBS (fake boobs), the ones she got after her double mastectomy in January.

In case you were wondering, each one has its own carrying case.

Today itself has been a blur. My nephews have been hyper non-stop, so we’ve played board games, video games, Mr. Potato Head–you name it.

This evening my sister and brother-and-law made dinner–burgers and baked beans–then my brother-in-law, the boys, and I got in their pool until it started raining. Now it’s 8:15, and the kids just went to bed, as did my father. Both my aunt and mom took naps this afternoon–I took two–but I think we’re all still tired and groggy–road weary. Plus, it can take a minute to adjust to the higher altitude out here.

There’s simply less oxygen for your brain and body to run on.

Personally, I’m in a daze. Normally I have a plan when I travel–read a book, go to a bookstore, check out the local dances. At some point, since I’m attending a dance event in San Francisco this coming weekend, I need to figure out when to leave for California and how to get there. But I’ve been so tired from last week’s manual labor and the night’s travels, I can’t rub two thoughts together, much less make a decision about what I want to do.

Maybe tomorrow.

Now I’m on my sister and brother-in-law’s back porch, huddled up on their couch, watching a storm roll in. [It’s the desert, but it’s also monsoon season.] I’d planned on watching the stars come out, but instead I’m getting to see the tree branches whip and sway. The wind is really strong. I may need to go in.

Early this morning, between three and four and between Santa Rosa and Tucumcari, New Mexico, I was in the backseat of my car, Tom Collins, and asked my dad, who was driving, to pull over the car so I could look at stars. Except for the occasional (and annoying) passing car, it was pitch-black outside. No street lights, no “light pollution.” This to say I was expecting a good show, different from what I normally see in town. But–oh–my–god, it was glorious.

Looking up, I saw thousands and thousands of stars, each shining and twinkling unimpeded by any city fog or haze. Typically when I spot Cassiopeia (The Queen), I can “make out” four of her five major stars. But last night, every one of her five bright lights were unmistakable. And THERE was Cepheus (The King), and Pegasus (The Horse), and Perseus, and EVERY STAR in Capricornus (where Mars is currently and which I can never, ever see any part of in the city). And in the midst of it all was The Milky Way–our galaxy–a wide swath of stars that arched across the heavens like a nighttime rainbow. To say that this–all of it–was stunning is an understatement, especially since this was my FIRST time looking at the sky with a modicum of knowledge about the constellations and “what’s going on” up there.

Facing south, it looked something like this. (Screenshot from the Stellarium app.)

Each of us is just as mysterious as the night sky.

Twenty minutes later we were in Tucumcari at a Denny’s, and the city lights we so bright that all I could see were six stars. Six. From thousands to six in fifteen miles. And The Milky Way–nowhere to be found. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was, how frustrated I was at all our modern technology and progress. Effectively–at least in town–we’ve wiped out the heavens, our very own galaxy. It’s not that it’s not there, but we simply don’t SEE it because it’s been covered up. This is what the mystics say about our hearts. Not that they’re embedded with original sin, but that they’re embedded with original goodness and unconditional love; those qualities have just been “covered up.” I’m coming to believe this, that each of us is just as mysterious as the night sky–in a daze sometimes, but absolutely filled with more glorious light than we could ever begin to imagine.

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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