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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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

"

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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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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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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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.

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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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Things are only important because we think they are.

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Tomorrow’s a Blank Page (Blog #572)

It’s 11:28 at night, and I’ve been dicking around for over two hours–fixing my parents screen door, running the virus scanner on my laptop, scrolling through Facebook ad nauseam–doing anything I can to avoid writing. I just don’t feel like it. Stupid blog. Ugh–whose idea was this every-day writing nonsense?

Oh, that’s right–it was mine.

This afternoon I did some handyman things for some friends and got absolutely eaten up by mosquitoes in the process because I refused to use the bug spray I keep in my car. I can be so stubborn sometimes. But I was in relatively nice clothes and just didn’t want to smell like Deet for the rest of the day. Honestly, what’s a girl to do when presented with two unpleasant options?

To itch or to stink, that is the question. Obviously, my answer today was to itch, although I’ve chosen to stink plenty of other times in the past.

I can’t believe I’m talking about mosquitoes.

Move on, Marcus.

This evening I went downtown in Fort Smith to check out The Unexpected. The Unexpected is a mural-painting project that happens annually here, and–I think–is one of the coolest things this city has ever done ever. The project goes through this Sunday, October 28. Anyway, every year the organizers put out a new map that lists all the artists and where their respective murals are or will be located, so tonight after parking my car at a local coffee shop and with my map in hand, I hit the streets (oh-la-la) to look for the latest artwork. Oh my gosh, y’all, what a cool thing, to walk up on an old building you’ve driven past hundreds of times and see it being brought back to life. Even at 8:00 this evening, there were a number of artists out working on their projects.

Here’s a picture of one of the murals in progress on Towson Avenue. The artist is Alexis Diaz.

This one is also on Towson Avenue and is by PREF. (A lot of muralists don’t go by their god-given names. Apparently it’s a thing.) Personally, I’m really excited to see how this mural turns out. I assume it will say, “The very best is yet to come,” but since there are three blank spaces left and “to come” would only fill up two of them, who knows? It could be anything. That’s the great thing about a blank “canvas.” You can do with it what you want.

This one is on Garrison Avenue (the main drag in downtown) and is by Ana Maria. She did another mural in the same spot for the first Unexpected (in 2015), but obviously had to paint over it in order to create this new piece.

This one is on North A, one block off Garrison Avenue and is being painted by local high school students. How cool is that?

Although there are a few other new murals this year (by BUFFALO, ADD FUEL, and Cody Hudson), I didn’t take pictures of them tonight. I did, however, take this picture, which is one of the murals done for the first Unexpected; it was painted by local university students. I took it because the guy in the mural looks like he’s pointing to the full moon. I love that.

Now it’s after midnight, and I’m ready to go to bed. I NEED to go to bed. Last night I didn’t fall asleep until after four, since blogging took forever and I still had to shower after that. Anyway, it feels as if I’m going through the motions here. Personally, I’m not particularly impressed with what’s landed on the page tonight, and now I don’t have anything “profound” to say. Whatever, this is the way art works. You show up. You do the thing. Sometimes it’s fabulous, sometimes it’s flopulous. (I just made that word up. As in a fabulous flop, Mom.)

Sometimes you want a re-do.
That’s okay.
You can paint over yesterday.
Tomorrow’s a blank canvas.
Tomorrow’s a blank page.
It holds endless possibilities.
The very best is yet _________.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Being scared isn’t always an invitation to run away. More often than not, it’s an invitation to grow a pair and run toward.

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Not Everyone’s Cup of Tea (Blog #133)

Sometimes, at 330 in the morning while the rest of the western hemisphere is sleeping, I feel like sleeping too. More accurately, I feel like quitting. I mean, I love writing, but every damn day is a lot. Surely I could be happy as an underachiever, or hell–just an achiever. Anything but the balls-to-the-wall overachiever that I am. Currently I’m in Springfield, Missouri, staying with some friends, and there’s a remote control and Netflix within spitting distance of this futon, and don’t think I haven’t thought about closing this laptop and going for it.

But here I am–once again–writing. UGH.

This morning, before I’d even been awake for half an hour, I got an email that a piece of writing I submitted for a statewide contest had been rejected. (“Not accepted” was the actual phrase they used.) Well, I don’t mind saying that reading that email sucked. It still sucks. Granted, I get that it’s only one contest and blah, blah, blah, but “not acceptance” always blows in the worst way. I mean–as long as I’m being honest, since that’s what I do here (ICK)–I kind of had my heart set on that contest. A friend of mine is a past-winner, and they said I was a shoe-in. I’d already mentally spent the prize money, thought about how I would thank my parents in my acceptance speech.

I heard recently that a good percentage of our mental activity and time is spent on daydreaming–thinking Well, if this happens I’ll do this. If that happens I’ll do thatIf he happens I’ll do him. So I guess all the fantasizing is very “normal,” but it still sucks.

Damn daydreams.

Just after the email came through, I had an appointment with my massage therapist, Gina, and we started talking about which of my leg muscles felt tight. I said my quads felt tighter than my hamstrings, and Gina said, “Hum, let me think.” Then she had a “lightbulb moment,” started working on my quads, and explained that they were pulling the front of my hips down. (Think of a bowl with muscles attached to the front and back. If the front is pulled down, the back will tilt up.) Gina said, “The quads are strong enough to cause your hips to tilt. They have the power to do that.

Within minutes, I felt my quads release. Gina said, “We may have hit pay dirt.” Later when I got off the table, I could tell my hips were more level, less tilted. My butt didn’t stick out as far. (Sorry, ladies.) My hips weren’t rocked back like usual. Wow, I thought, My body is actually changing. Part of me thought this would never happen, but–it’s happening.

Later I tried to call my therapist and left a message. Then–because it’s part of my creativity homework to spend time in a sacred space–I went to sit in a church. Just walked in and sat down. No one else was there–just me and God. I felt like I was in a movie–that is until the janitor started moving around and making noise. Still, I was this big ball of emotions–disappointed about the contest, excited about my hips, wondering what to do next, whether or not I should throw in the towel, settle. Then I noticed a candle burning near the altar, and I thought about how it continued to burn–day in, day out–no matter whether or not anyone was there to see it. Just a candle burning with no need for praise or recognition.

Can I be like that candle?

As I left the church, I noticed I’d missed a call from my therapist, so I called her back and caught her in between clients. I said, “I get that dreams don’t always come true the way you think they’re going to, even if they do come true. And I’m just trying to not go into a downward spiral over this contest.”

“Contests are so subjective,” she said. “You don’t know if it was a tie and someone said, ‘Just pick one.’ Or maybe the judge had a fight with their spouse that day. Plus you have to remember–people are fucking stupid.”

So then I started laughing.

“You know, there are people who meet me for an intake and say it’s not going to work for them,” she said. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t want to be everyone’s cup of tea. I work REALLY HARD TO NOT BE everyone’s cup of tea.

Yeah, I like that. I don’t want to be everyone’s cup of tea either.

A couple of weeks ago my friend Vicki introduced to Ana Maria, one of the artists who’s participated in The Unexpected (artist/mural festival in Fort Smith) for the last three years. She currently has a pop-up gallery in downtown to showcase her work, so today she met me for a private viewing. How cool is that? How cool is that octopus mural at the top of the blog?

Way cool.

Here’s a painting Ana Maria did of two foxes. It’s called Grief.

Next to Grief hung a painting she did of an octopus and some flowers. It’s called Jubilo, which is Spanish for joy.

I said, “That’s interesting–grief and joy–right beside each other.”

This evening I drove to Springfield to attend a dance and help my friends Anne and Andy at their wedding venue because one of their regular staff members (my friend Matt) is out of town. During the drive I kept thinking about how many muscles connect to the hips, how hard it is to keep them balanced. If one set of muscles starts pulling, the others have to overwork to compensate. I kept thinking how Gina referred to the quads’ ability to cause imbalance.

They have the power to do that.

At the dance tonight, there were several times that I got completely lost in the moment, having fun, laughing. My friend Andy led me in both two-step and Lindy Hop, and it was a thrill-a-minute because I didn’t have to be in charge for once. (Ironic, I know, that I’ve been upset because things didn’t work out my way.) He even dipped me back. Yippee! Then a couple times I thought, Oh yeah, I lost that contest. I guess I’m still sad about it. But I’m having fun now. And my hips are getting better.

I suppose Ana Maria had it right–putting grief and joy beside each other. Perhaps they’re the same thing–expectations disappointed, expectations fulfilled. This is the way life goes. But when I think about someone I don’t even know judging my writing–one of probably hundreds of entries–I know that person, that situation can disappoint me, but neither has the ability to affect my balance for very long. No, I’ve decided. They don’t have the power to do that. I’ve worked too hard to not be everyone’s cup of tea. What’s more, my joy comes from within, and–at least for now–sitting at this laptop every night is what I’m called to do, what my soul demands.

So I guess I’ll write another day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perhaps this is what bravery really is--simply having run out of better options, being so totally frustrated by the outside world that all you can do is go within.

"

Flexing the Right Muscles (Blog #124)

It’s three in the morning. Bed sounds really good right about now. Last night I got home from Springfield at four in the morning, slept for four hours, and woke up early (for me) to get a massage and see the chiropractor. Then I came home, slept for a couple of hours, and went to physical therapy, since healing from the car accident is now my new hobby. This evening I ran around downtown Fort Smith, came home, and took a nap on the futon from midnight to one to try to recharge before writing. I’m not sure that it worked.

Now that we have that out of the way.

This morning my massage therapist, Gena, and I were talking about how tight my scalenes are. Scalenes are the muscles that run from your ear to your shoulder on both sides. She said one of the reasons mine were tight is because my head juts forward rather than sitting back directly over my shoulders. She suggested one way I could “gently coax” my body into the right position would be to purposefully jut my head and neck forward, and then pull them back–like a turtle–and that I could do this in the car whenever I stop at a stop light or stop sign. (Thank God for tinted windows.) “Whenever you engage or flex one set of muscles,” she said, “BY LAW the opposing muscles have to relax.”

So every time I’ve stopped at a stop sign today and tried the exercise, I’ve thought, This has to work–it’s a law.

This afternoon I did something I rarely do. I voiced my opinion on Facebook. (Hell, everyone else is doing it.) One of my friends whom I respect posted an article about being punctual and asked (SHE ASKED) what everyone thought about “being late.” Well, all the other comments were basically “I hate that shit,” “Late people are rude,” “Late people are arrogant,” or–slightly kinder but not really–“Being late is arrogant behavior.”

Okay. Maybe I’m sensitive because I’m usually right on time (which apparently is the new late) or five to ten minutes late (which apparently is “unacceptable”). I admit–this is something I could improve on. Maybe we’d all be happier if I did. I definitely think being on time is professional and courteous. That being said, I take issue with the idea that the fact that I was slightly late to physical therapy today (because I left the house with just enough time to get there and then got stuck in traffic and saw a friend in the parking lot) makes me arrogant. (Feel free to disagree.) A mediocre time manager and horrible psychic, maybe.

My therapist says that online communication is froth with misunderstandings, so I don’t want to read more into those comments than were intended. Still, I’ve been thinking tonight even if the whole world agreed that being late is arrogant or rude or “something Jesus would never do” (although Martha did say, “Lord, if only had been here [on time], my brother would not have died”), that still wouldn’t change the reality that people are late, that traffic jams do happen, that–well–shit happens.

Shit happens.

One of my creative homework assignments this week is to initiate a conversation with one of my friends about synchronicity. I’m not sure if blogging counts as a way to do that, but it’s worth a shot, so here I go. (If you have experiences you’d like share, please message me or post in the comments so this conversation won’t be one-sided.) This afternoon in the middle of my finding my fifth chakra (which is at your throat and represents confession and speaking your truth) on Facebook, I kept thinking that I needed to message my friend Vicki to see if she was going to hear her husband Donny play Irish music at Core Brewing Company tonight. Well–guess what? Synchronistically, she messaged me first (and said she was).

So later I met Vicki to hear Donny play, had a great time, and lived happily ever after.

When I started blogging tonight, I noticed that the last time I wrote about Donny, I spelled his name wrong. (Sorry, Donny. I fixed it.) But get this. Tonight when I saw Donny, he didn’t say anything about it. I mean, there wasn’t a single comment about my being arrogant or rude or a bad friend because I spelled his name incorrectly. Go figure. Maybe it didn’t bother him at all, but if it did, he chose to be gracious about it. (Thank you.)

I guess a person can always choose to be gracious.

During the course of conversation tonight, Vicki said, “The more forgiving you are of yourself, the more forgiving you are of others.” My therapist says, “You don’t treat anyone better than you treat yourself.” In other words, if you’re a hard ass with yourself–about being on time, about having good grammar and correct spelling, about being “perfect”–you’re going to be a hard ass with everyone else. (So if someone is rude, unkind, or judgmental to you–have compassion–that’s how they treat themselves on the regular.) But if you extend grace to yourself, if you give understanding to yourself, you’ll naturally extend those things to others.

I’ll say it again. You don’t treat anyone better than you treat yourself.

I’m thinking now that our judgments–of ourselves and each other–are like muscles. If we “flex” our impatience, BY LAW, our patience must relax. However, if we “flex” our patience, BY LAW, our impatience must relax. (It has to work, it’s a law.) Ultimately, we’ll never be able to control what someone else does. Sadly, at least as long as I’m in it, we’ll never be able to make the whole world be punctual. But the good news is that we have plenty–PLENTY–of opportunities to practice patience, to extend grace, to treat ourselves and those around us better.

[Here’s a picture of one of the downtown murals at night, just because I checked it out this evening and wanted to put another picture on the blog.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Not knowing what's going to happen next is part of the adventure."

Pennies (Not Panties) from Heaven (Blog #120)

Today I’ve tried (tried) to give God a little more credit. More credit for being–I don’t know–intelligent. More credit for being–interested. Because I’m just going to say it. I’ve spent plenty of time thinking he (or she, if you like) doesn’t give a damn. I mean, about me, my checkbook, and the fact that I go to bed alone every night. (Although I do think I’m currently sharing the room with a mouse.) I just figured he’s–well–busy. But last night I read something in The Artist’s Way that went something like this–Oh, God can figure out the subatomic structure of the universe but can’t find answers to your problems?

Well, when you put it that way.

Lately I’ve been saying to myself and out loud, “I’m willing to accept gifts from the universe.” Today I added, “God’s pretty smart. He wants to help me and has lots of money and lots of answers.” So get this. Today I had a chiropractor appointment, and that was supposed to be it–no massage because all the therapists were booked. But in the middle of my appointment, one of the therapists (a guy who worked on me last week) had a cancellation, so I got in–without even asking. Well, he worked on my uneven hips, a problem that’s been a problem for ten years, maybe twenty. And in less than an hour, there was definite progress. They aren’t twisted as badly as they were before, and they hurt less. Tonight I went running and had to get used to a new rhythm because my gait is actually different.

How about that?

After the appointment I binged on reading material because my week of reading deprivation is over. (Hallelujah.) Then I went to get a smoothie because I may be addicted. And right there in the parking lot were about seventy pennies–pennies from heaven. I know it’s only seventy cents, but I wasn’t about the tell the universe, “I’m sorry, that’s not enough free money for me to bother,” so I scooped up every one of those suckers.

Then while I was running some errands, I got a message from a friend who offered me free tickets to Art on the Border and the Peacemaker Music Festival tonight. So I scooped those up too. (Thanks, friend.) Well, while I was at the art exhibit, I ran into two of my favorite people, Bruce and Lyn, and since they were headed to the music festival, I shamelessly asked if I could hang out with them. (They said yes, and on the way there we saw a pair of panties on the sidewalk. No, we didn’t touch them. Bruce said I should blog about it, so that’s what I’m doing. So just to be clear, I’ll pick up pennies from heaven, but not panties from heaven. There’s a difference.)

One of the reasons I wanted to go to the festival was to see the inflatable art installed (for this weekend only) by D*Face, an artist who’s done two murals in downtown Fort Smith. Well, from far away, all I saw was a blow-up Snoopy and Hello Kitty, something like you might see in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Isn’t that cute? I thought. But when I got closer, they turned out to be zombies. Zombies! Snoopy looked like Hannibal Lecter, and Hello Kitty looked like she got into a fight at a lesbian biker bar (and lost).

Personally, if I’d seen something like this as a child, I would have wet the bed for a month.

I ended up spending most of the evening with Lyn’s daughter Leigh, who was also at the music festival. Since this is quickly becoming a blog about abundance and gratitude, I’ll go ahead and say that Leigh gave me a free beer–and a half. (Thanks, Leigh.) That’s all four of us (Bruce, Lyn, Marcus, Leigh) in the picture at the top of the blog. Aren’t they adorable? Lyn made us retake the first picture and told Bruce to “show your teeth,” then afterwards he facetiously asked if his hair looked okay.

Bruce and Lyn and I left in between acts, and then I walked around to check out the mural progress. Here’s the other side of the double-decker bus that’s at the Park at West End. It’s a giraffe in a spacesuit. Pretty sweet, huh? Notice the big cock in the background. (First panties in the street and now this. What’s the world coming to?)

Lastly I checked out the alien in the bamboo hat–and friends. Take a look. I’m assuming at least one of the people who bent over right as I was taking the photo is the artist. Talk about bad timing. Or–if you prefer–serendipity.

To(may)to, to(mah)to.

One one hand, it’d be easy to say that “nothing spectacular” happened today, that it was just “a really good day,” and as for the unexpected and wonderful massage, the pennies from heaven, and the free tickets and beer (with people I love!)–well–isn’t that neat? But Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” So I’m choosing to see all the things that happened today as miracles, even the sidewalk panties. Granted, manifested underwear isn’t on the same scale as manna from heaven, but it’s a start. And if God can arrange a last-minute massage (that helps fix a literal long-standing problem), and whip up some free entertainment (just for fun), then surely He can do any number of things. What’s more, surely he wants to.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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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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Give yourself an abundance of grace.

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