On Rearranging Yourself (Blog #1045)

I spent most of today working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. And whereas I didn’t finish, I did make good progress. Indeed, this afternoon I worked for several hours (at which point I took the picture below), and this evening I worked for a couple more. Ugh. When I get in puzzle-solving mode I lose all track of time. I skip meals, put off going to the bathroom, and delay blogging. I think, Just one more piece. Just one more section. Last year I completed a different 1,000 piece puzzle only to realize it was missing a piece. (So it was really a 999 piece puzzle.) Anyway, now whenever I can’t find a piece I convince myself it doesn’t exist. Then when I finally find it after looking “just one more time,” it’s the sweetest relief.

Earlier this week I bought a painting for four dollars (and a frame for the painting for eight), so this evening I set out to rearrange my “art wall” in order to accommodate it. And whereas I thought this would be a simple task, alas, it was not. Y’all, I spent almost two hours playing Tetris with my framed art, photos, and brooches, the main problem being that once I put the new painting above my bed I didn’t have a good spot for the old art that used to be there. FINALLY, after much frustration and upset, I decided to put the old art in my bathroom (above the toilet). After that, things were relatively simple. Well wait. Now that I think about it, they weren’t. Before it was all said and done, I hung or rehung a total of eleven framed pieces (two in my bathroom, nine in my bedroom).

Only four of the pieces on my “art wall” are in the same location they used to be.

Let’s hear it for trying new things.

I’ve said before that when you change one thing you change everything (and this is why we often avoid change), and this is what I mean. Everything’s connected. You buy one new painting, and it inevitably pushes your other ones around. Likewise, you get one new belief (like, I’m worthy of being treated well), and it can seriously upset your applecart. I mean, it sounds good to say that you deserve to be respected, but if you really believe that, what are you gonna do the next time someone (including you) disrespects you? Because this is where the rubber meets the road, where you have to speak up for yourself, have a hard conversation, or, if necessary, walk away.

Again, this is why most of us don’t buy new pieces of art, buy new pieces of art being a euphemism for change our beliefs. It’s not that we don’t like the idea of something new, fresh, and beautiful (I’m patient, I’m kind, I stand up for myself), it’s just that the rearranging we have to do in order to accommodate something new, fresh, and beautiful is seriously a lot of effort and often involves fallout.

Take money, for instance. Most anyone, myself included, would tell you that they’d LOVE to have more money. And yet most of us aren’t willing to do what it takes to have it. And no, I’m not just talking about getting a side-hustle. I’m talking about really getting honest about your relationship with money. For me this has looked and continues to look like digging into where, when, and how my beliefs about money started, realizing that despite the fact that I give myself a lot of crap about not being more “successful” in terms of worldly wealth, most if not all of the money concepts I have, for better or for worse, were handed down to me (by family, church, school, and society).

In terms of money, for decades I’ve had dreams about a particular person that I’ve always considered wealthy and successful. And whereas for years this person appeared in my dreams as far off or unapproachable, since starting therapy and unpacking my issues around money with my therapist, that’s changed. For instance, I’ve had dreams in which this person’s house has been for sale or I’ve been moving into their house, one possible interpretation being that their lifestyle is AVAILABLE to me. Last night I dreamed that, instead of me looking up to this person, THEY were looking up to me, literally serving me.

Keep working on the puzzle that is you.

As I see it, these dreams and especially last night’s dream mean that my beliefs about money are changing from “I’m intimidated” to “I”m in charge.” Better said, since this dream-person is just a part of my consciousness (and completely separate from the actual person), these dreams mean that my relationship with myself is changing. Earlier this evening I meditated on money (and relationships and all the things), and I realized that I’m accustomed to loss. Not that I’m used to always losing things or having people leave me, but it’s a FAMILIAR feeling. You might say it’s a comfortable one, albeit not a healthy or accurate one. All this to say that this is The Hard Work, the willingness to take an honest look at the beliefs that run your life and, if needed, change them by changing yourself. By rearranging yourself. This, of course, means carrying yourself differently, more confidently, and this is a scary and uncomfortable thing to do. Do it anyway. Keep working on the puzzle that is you until all your pieces fit.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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To Breathe Deep, to Laugh, to Cry (Blog #1036)

Last night I went to bed at two in the morning. And whereas I’d intended to get five and a half hours of sleep, I only got three and a half. Alas, shit happens. This being said, un-shit happens to. What I mean is that although life is full of trauma and drama, it’s also full of healing and comedy. Yesterday I re-started working on a 1000-piece puzzle, and I imagine I’ll be working on it for a while. But then one day, the final piece will slip into place, and it will be done. Over. Likewise, with this blog. Two months from today I’ll type my final word, make my final edits, and hit publish. Just like that, with the touch of a button, I’ll be on to something else.

Along these lines of healing and being done, this morning I had one of the most profound healing experiences I’ve ever had, thanks to a therapist who practices a method my therapist doesn’t (and whom my therapist encouraged me to see). But here’s the catch. I’m not allowed to talk about the experience until tomorrow. “Talk about anything else you want,” the guy said, “but don’t talk about what happened here until you’ve had a chance to sleep and let your body process.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can talk about what I had to drink for breakfast.”

Now, I realize that this may seem like a tease. Not the breakfast part, but the profound experience part. I’m sorry. I’ll get around to it later. Or at least I think I will, since I never know what I’m going to write about until I do. Honestly, I only mention it at all because I don’t have anything else to talk about and I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t bullshit myself or anyone else on this blog. That is, if I were to pull some self-help lesson out of my ass right now and try to apply it to my day, I’m sure it would come across as disingenuous. And wants that? Certainly not me.

So what’s left to say, Marcus?

Well, currently I just finished breakfast and plan to wrap up this blog while chugging coffee. (Remember, I didn’t sleep much last night.) Then I’m going to spend the day shopping and running around with a friend, and tonight we’re going to see a show. Really, I can’t tell you how excited I am. Not simply to run around, but to be awake and alive not just to think about and overanalyze life, but to actually live it. So that’s the deal. I’m taking the rest of the day for me. To breathe deep, to laugh, to cry if I feel like it. To not miss one thing. To remember that there’s a time for planting seeds, and there’s a time for harvesting and celebration. To remember that deep healing is possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

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This Is Your Spiritual Journey (Blog #1035)

A few months ago I started a new 1,000-piece puzzle. And whereas I got most of the border completed, the puzzle has honestly sat unloved and unattended to ever since. Until today. This afternoon I plopped my read end down on our futon, hunched over our coffee table, blew the dust off the puzzle box, and went to work. For five solid hours I labored, putting the border back together (someone–my father–recently knocked the puzzle off the table), hunting for pieces with similar colors, looking for perfect matches. Aren’t we all looking for perfect matches?

Now, did I get finished? Hell no. But I certainly made progress.

This evening I helped a friend publish their business’s website. Over a month ago we designed the site but got stuck because we ended up renaming their business during the design process. Well, this meant we needed, or at least wanted to, pick out a new .com address, and that’s always a pain in the butt because most the good ones are taken (.com names, not butts). For example, marcuscoker.com is taken (by me), so if you wanted a website named marcuscoker.com, you’d just have to think of something else. Maybe marcuscoker01.com or marcuscocker.com, which is what all the telemarketers call me. (Of course, it’d be weird for YOU, someone who’s NOT named Marcus Coker, to have a site named after ME, someone who is.) Anyway, my friend and I got together tonight to brainstorm website names, and for over an hour we were like, “No, that’s not it. Uh, close, but no cigar. Crap, what are we gonna do?”

Finally, my friend suggested something, and we were both like, “Yeah, that’s it. I really like that.” Then we checked to make sure the domain name was available, and it was. So they bought it. Then, after a good while chatting with tech support, we got the site published. Are there still changes to be made and work to be done? Sure.

But we made a lot of progress.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about endings and beginnings, I guess because this blog will be ending soon (two months from tomorrow will be my last consecutive post), and another project–I’m guessing–will begin. Yes, something else will begin. Something always does. Indeed, I already have a few projects up my sleeve. I just don’t know which one will call mostly loudly for my attention. That’s the deal with creative endeavors. More often than not, you don’t tell them what’s up, they tell you what’s up. For example, I’ve made it a practice to sit down and write every day, and–yes–I have certain parameters I work within. (Like, I talk about me and my therapist. I don’t talk about celebrity gossip or cornbread recipes.) But within these parameters, what I write about is usually dictated TO ME.

What I mean is that I have an internal creative compass that points me in this or that direction, tells me when I’m on or off center. It says, “No, that’s not it. Start again. Delete that paragraph.” It says, “That’s it, you’re done. Don’t you dare write another word.” As strange as this process may sound, it’s not. We all know when a night out with our friends is over, or when a relationship is. We don’t even have to say we’re done (because the other person knows too), we can just start packing up our things. More and more, I can’t advise listening to this inner wisdom–your inner wisdom–enough. In essence, this IS your spiritual journey, learning to follow your own divine compass. That still, small voice that tells you, “Go here, don’t go there. Do this, don’t do that.” The one that tells you when pieces fit, when pieces don’t. The one that tells you when something’s a perfect match or not.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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The Missing Piece (Blog #759)

Well crap. Earlier tonight I finished the puzzle I’ve been working on, the puzzle I technically started several months ago. And whereas I’m done, IT’S MISSING A PIECE. That’s frickin’ right–there are SUPPOSED to be 1,000 pieces, but there are only 999. What the hell? If you look at the picture above (the image is of a famous painting–The Birth of Venus by Botticelli), there’s a big gaping hole (the size of a puzzle piece) in the lady on the right’s abdomen.

I can’t tell you how much this upsets me. (But don’t worry, I’ll try to.)

Chances are, I lost the final piece. Or maybe someone else did. Since I’ve had the puzzle out, it has been moved around a few times, and someone (including me) could have bumped it and knocked the piece to the floor. From there, as my dad pointed out, our dog could have eaten it. Who knows what happened? But I’ve combed the floors and looked everywhere including the vacuum cleaner bag and can’t find it. I keep hoping it will just materialize. So far, it hasn’t. This is driving my inner perfectionist bonkers.

I need to talk about something else.

This afternoon I finished house sitting, but before I did, I took my friend’s dog for walk. Y’all, for the last four days I’ve been following that little pup around and picking up its poop with little plastic baggies–because that’s what I was asked to do, because it’s courteous to pick up your dog’s poop when it shits in your neighbor’s yard. But get this (shit). While walking today I noticed NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS. That is, twice (twice!) I spotted dog poop in other people’s front yards, which means SOME PEOPLE are obviously out walking their dogs and not cleaning up after them. In my opinion, this is the dog-walking equivalent of guys who dart out of public restrooms without washing their hands. (This unfortunately happens a lot, ladies.) Oh well, we all make choices. What’s right and decent and sanitary for one person isn’t for the next. (For evidence of this, just look around.)

When I got home from house sitting, my dad and I went to the gym and I ran on the treadmill. Y’all, I hit a personal milestone, at least since having knee surgery four months ago–I ran for a solid hour! Not crazy fast, mind you–I totaled 4.5 miles–but I broke a serious sweat. But again, I ran for a solid hour!

Go legs.

Recently my chiropractor referred to me (my body) as a wreck. This was said in good humor, since have a lot of (physical) issues–my hips, my shoulder, my neck. At the same time, I’ve been thinking the last few days that I don’t like the idea of thinking of myself as a wreck or broken. Never mind the fact that someone else said it. I’ve said it a lot. I’ve thought, I’ve got these pains, and they’ll never go away. I’m a mess. But I don’t want to think that anymore. I don’t want to believe that anymore. Because, deep down, I believe my body is smart, I believe there are answers available, and I believe healing is possible. Plus, it feels better to refer to my body in my self-talk as wise rather than ignorant or stupid. I imagine my body would like that too.

I mean, how would you feel if someone talked to you like that day-in and day-out?

Okay, back to the puzzle. It’s still driving my inner perfectionist crazy, but I’ve calmed down a little. After I realized I was missing a piece, I started thinking about how much I’ve been looking forward to that final moment of completion. Like, Awe, I did it–a thousand pieces. And yet that moment never came. So then I had to remind myself that despite the fact that I never got THAT feeling of satisfaction, it’s not like I haven’t had hundreds of other moments of satisfaction along the way. That is, I’ve had fun putting the other 999 pieces together. Ugh, so often I focus on the what’s wrong–a little pile of dog shit, a pain in my hip, the guy who didn’t wash his hands!–rather than what’s right. So often I focus on the missing piece instead of the whole puzzle.

I blame my inner perfectionist for this and am working on it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus (Blog #743)

This afternoon I worked on a puzzle that my sister and I started back in December. Alas, we didn’t get very far. We basically finished the border, the easy part. For months the puzzle has sat on our spare coffee table (that’s right, we have two coffee tables, suckahs!), and for months I’ve felt guilty about it. Another unfinished project. I guess it wasn’t time. But then today while I was listening to a podcast, it was. For over an hour I combed through hundreds of pieces and actually made some progress. Slowly but surely, a shape emerged.

Recently I heard a comedian–I can’t remember who–make fun of puzzles. He basically said, “They’re not that hard. They’re not even surprising. You’ve got a lid that SHOWS YOU how it’s supposed to turn out.” I thought about this today as I worked on my above-mentioned puzzle and periodically checked the lid to see where a piece went. No surprises here.

Earlier today I re-read more old blogs. Whenever I do this, I read ten at a time. I’m up to number 90 now. Part of me feels as if this project (both the blogging itself and the re-reading) is taking FOR-EV-ER, but obviously a lot can get done one day at a time, one (or ten) blogs at a time. This evening I went to the gym and spent thirty minutes on the elliptical, a machine I tolerate. And whereas it wasn’t “fun,” I made the time pass more quickly by thinking Just one more minute thirty times. My point–it helps to break things up into smaller pieces. You can seriously overwhelm yourself if you look at the big picture.

For over twenty years my dad and I have had this running joke about the song One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus (that’s all I’m asking from you). It started when Dad was in prison. I guess he and his friends used to sing it on Sundays. You can see how a tune like that could resonate with inmates–or anyone going through a tough time. Like, I’m not asking you to help me get through this entire damn year, Lord, just today.

Of course, if you get through today every day for a year, you’ve gotten through a year. (God, Marcus, you really are profound sometimes.) But seriously, we complicate things. Once, when I asked my friend Chelsea how to dance fast Lindy Hop, she said, “Dance Lindy Hop faster.” No shit–I paid for that advice. Later, I realized how correct it was. If you have solid technique, you can dance at any speed. If you don’t have solid technique, you’ll notice problems at high speeds, but the truth is you’re doing something wrong at slower speeds too. Bad technique is bad technique. Anyway, my point is that the answers we’re looking for are simple. Maybe not easy, but simple. How do you blog every day for a year? You blog every day for a year. How do you put together a thousand-piece puzzle?

One piece at a time.

One difference between a puzzle and a creative project, however, is the lid. That is, with any creative project–writing or dancing, for example–you often don’t know where you’re going or have a picture of the end product. When I started dancing twenty years ago, no one showed me a video of what I’d personally look like if I put in 10,000 hours. Likewise, when I started this blog two years ago, I may have had the goal to write every day, but I didn’t know what the actual results would be or how it would change me. I didn’t have a lid. I still don’t. And yet, slowly but surely, a shape has emerged.

I think it’s safe to say that nobody knows where they are going (except to bed, maybe). Nobody has the lid for their life. This means anything can happen. Surprise! When I started therapy, I had no idea of how I’d change. I simply felt compelled to explore the path. Five years later, here I am, still exploring, still surprised by the results. Joseph Campbell said, “Not all who hesitate are lost. The psyche had many secrets in reserve. And these are not disclosed unless required.” I love this quote. To me it means that when you’re working on a creative project or even yourself, you really have no idea what’s possible. We tell ourselves, I can’t do that or That could never happen, but the truth is that we don’t know until we try, until we keep showing up one day at a time, Sweet Jesus.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is better when we're not in control. When we mentally leave room for anything to happen, anything can.

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This Is Our Darkest Night (Blog #631)

Today has been–stressful. I’ve had a rash on my thighs for a couple weeks now, and for whatever reason decided to officially start freaking out about it this afternoon. I’m just ready for it to be better. Well, technically it is better. I’m ready for it to be gone. Anyway, I tried getting into a dermatologist today, but everyone’s closed for the holidays. So instead of taking a deep breath and telling myself that I can wait until next week after my knee surgery, I told myself I have an incurable flesh-eating virus.

This was very upsetting for me to hear.

Distressed, I took a nap. When I woke up, I distracted myself by reading a book and playing with my nephews. And eating. My sister cooked dinner, and I ate two platefuls. Then I went through the physical therapy exercises I’ll be doing starting the day after surgery, just to get a hang of them. Ugh. I’m not looking forward to this. I mean, I AM looking forward to getting better, to walking, running, and dancing again. It’s just the damn slowness of the whole thing that’s got me down.

Tonight my sister and I started working on a thousand-piece puzzle. (So far we’ve finished the border.) This is something she, my brother-in-law, and I did last year while they were visiting for the holidays. At that time, I was two months into the grossest and longest sinus infection of my life. And just like we finished the puzzles we were working on, my infection eventually went away. Anyway, I overused the analogy back then, but obviously this is how life proceeds, piece by piece. Sooner or later things come together.

Tonight is the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year (in the northern hemisphere). Officially, it’s the start of winter, but it’s also the start of the solar year. I’ll explain. The sun always appears to rise in the east and set in the west. (I say appears because the sun isn’t actually moving; we are.) However, in the summer, it rises and sets in the northeast/northwest, and in the winter, in the southeast/southwest. (Incidentally, the opposite is true for the moon.) That is, from the summer solstice until the winter solstice, the sun tracks ever less overhead and ever more toward the southern horizon. This is a change that’s noticeable on a daily basis if you know how to measure it, and is something ancient people paid attention to.

Like at Stonehenge.

A lot of people think of the winter solstice as the point at which the sun is at its “lowest,” and therefore the point at which everything turns around and our days start getting longer. I believe this is technically true, but it’s important to note that when the sun reaches its lowest point, it appears to “stay there” for three days. That is, for three days, there’s no perceptible movement in terms of it moving toward the south or the north. This was a big deal to the ancients, since–not understanding modern astronomy–they believed that the sun had “died.” But then after three days, they’d see the sun “rise again” and begin its slow trek toward the north. (Incidentally, the word resurrection means “rise again.”) Anyway, this was cause for celebration, and as I understand it, is why we celebrate Christmas (the birth of the “son”) on December 25, since that’s three days after the 22nd, which is when the solstice typically is. This three-day thing is also why Jonah was three days in the belly of the whale and Christ was three days in the grave.

To me, the symbology is not lost. There are times in all our lives when things get worse and worse. Eventually we hit rock bottom. This is our darkest night. And if things turned around quickly, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. But a period of stillness appears to be required, a length of time spent in the grave. The grave–this is where you rest. This is where you give up hope. Not altogether, but of things going your way. This is where you surrender. This is where you do your best to have faith that your dark nights will grow shorter and your days will grow longer, that the whale will spit you up on dry land, that something bigger and stronger than you will roll away your personal gravestone and give you new life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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The Bigger Picture (Blog #276)

Last night my sister, brother-in-law, and I continued to work on our latest puzzle, a 2000-piece situation of Cinque Terre, a famous tourist spot in Italy. We’d all been working on it throughout the day, but really dug in after dinner. After a few hours of consistent progress, my sister and brother-in-law turned in about eleven. I, on the other hand, worked until three in the morning. I guess I got sucked in. I kept telling myself, Just one more piece. Y’all, by the time I dragged myself to bed, I’d pretty much put in a full day’s worth of work.

If only I could get paid for this.

Today I feel overwhelmed. I’ve been worrying about all my little health issues, which–honestly–are minor. Since one thing leads to another, I’ve also been worrying about when I’ll finally get a “real job” and move out of my parents house. Today marks exactly nine months since I started the blog, which means I only have three months until I hit the one-year mark, and I guess I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself for something “great” to happen by that time. I realize this isn’t a reasonable thing to do. Honestly, I just feel out of control. I could use a break.

Since today is the last day of 2017, maybe I’m simply doing a lot of reflecting. This last year has looked nothing like what I thought it would. On the outside, I didn’t work in the traditional sense. Consequently I spent the year with fewer physical possessions than planned. I only bought one pair of shoes, and I still don’t own a belt. As my therapist says, I’m basically living like a college student. Also, I spent the year lonelier, at least in the fact that I ended a longtime relationship with one of my closest friends. This is something I haven’t blogged about and don’t intend to at this point, but obviously had an effect. Much like the car wreck I had several month ago, it left its scars. Ultimately, however, it was a good thing.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot today, the idea that experiences can be both painful and beneficial at the same time. I mean, this year has been a real kick in the pants in many respects, but I have gotten a lot out of it. This blog, for instance. For every challenge I’ve faced on the outside, this has been the place where I could work it out on the inside. And as for being lonely at times, this has been the place where I better learned to keep myself company, to be my own closet friend. Other good things have happened, of course. But today it seems that even positive changes are challenging, since they often turn your world upside down and require energy to adjust to. Maybe that’s what this last year has been–a big adjustment.

Now all I want to do is work on the puzzle. Honestly, it’s the best distraction, something that keeps me from focusing on my problems and, in the words of Emily Dickinson, going “down and down.” My sister and brother-in-law are on their way back from running around, and after we eat dinner, we plan to work on the puzzle to ring in the new year. I can’t think of a better place to be, with my family, back at the kitchen table. There I am able to focus. There I am able to be patient. There I can look at the bigger picture and trust that things are coming together, however slowly, one piece at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Damn if good news doesn't travel the slowest.

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This Big Jumbled Mess (Blog #269)

Well, the whole damn family is here, and I don’t mind saying that my nephews, who are seven and three, are not quiet people. Since the last time I saw them, they’ve apparently learned to screech in such a way as to replicate the sound of a tornado siren. This, of course, is difficult to sleep through. Last night I told my sister that I’ve been trying to change my sleeping schedule, working on getting up earlier. She said, “We can help with that.” Obviously, she was right. This morning as the boys were screaming bloody murder, she yelled above them, “YOUR UNCLE IS SLEEPING!” I immediately shot out of bed.

Wasn’t that nice of her?

When I came out of my room, my nephew Christopher, the older one, gave me a hug. I thought that was sweet, but then he smelled my morning breath and pinched his nose and marched to the other side of the room. This is the same child who once pointed to my face when I asked him what wrinkles were. Talk about an angel. A real diplomat, that one. Currently he’s playing a game, but he’s spent most the day drawing characters from the cartoon Captain Underpants. Captain Underpants–this is the generation we live in. Whatever happened to Mighty Mouse?

Here’s a picture of me with my other nephew, Ander, who, in addition to be able to break crystal with his high-pitched cries, likes to hide under blankets.

When I pulled the blanket off Ander, I found him playing a game on my sister’s phone. This is how the boys, Mom, and I have spent most the day–glued to our respective electronic devices. (It’s the holidays!) Well, that’s not completely true. Earlier my dad and brother-in-law started a hundred-piece Spiderman puzzle my mom bought at the dollar store. But–honestly–they screwed it up, so my sister and I had to fix it. Really, our family never does puzzles. We’re just not “those kind of people.” You know the kind–puzzles, playing cards, and board games people. Again, we like our electronic devices.

That being said, I guess times are a-changing, since after the Spiderman puzzle my sister thought it would be “fun” to do a bigger puzzle, like one the whole family could work on. You know, bonding time. Well, as luck would have it, Dad had a thousand-piece Americana puzzle in his closet that had never been opened. So now my sister, dad, and brother-in-law are working on the puzzle at one end of the table, and I’m typing at the other. Everyone has their own idea about what needs to happen, of course, which section to start on. It’s a big jumbled mess. Ever the competitor, my brother-in-law suggested keeping score, like who can put the most pieces together. “I think you’re missing the point,” I said.

I keep getting distracted by the puzzle, wanting to join in and help figure things out. I’m still fighting the crud and am about ready to give up on the idea of ever being well, and it’d be nice to tackle a solvable problem. Earlier I was looking at all the bottles of vitamins I’ve purchased over the last month and thought, This is ridiculous, Marcus. I think this a lot about my life. I think about all the physical possessions I’ve sold, the fact that I’m living with my parents, the fact I feel like a bag of ass and yet force myself to sit down every day, every damn day, to write this blog and get nothing tangible in return. Even to me, these things often don’t add up. But that’s how things go. So here I am, here we all are, trying to put our pieces together, doing the best we can to make something out of this big jumbled mess we call life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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