Free from Our Baggage and Bullshit (Blog #982)

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It’s 3:15 in the afternoon, and, like yesterday, I’m blogging earlier than usual because I have plans this evening (last night I went to a show, and tonight I’m going to a dance) and don’t want to be up until all hours writing. Not that I ended up going to bed at a respectable hour last night. Home by 11:00, I was wide awake until 4:00 in the morning. MAAAAYBE I had a smidge too much coffee at dinner. Or it could be that I’ve simply felt better lately and have had–at times–A LOT of energy. My mind starts thinking about things I could do, future projects, and then it’s off to the races. Recently I saw my therapist while I was flying high, and she said, “You’re as happy as I’ve ever seen you.”

I told my therapist that over the last two weeks I’ve felt like a cork that’s been previously held underwater and finally released. Like, WHOOSH! to the surface. She said, “That’s what happens when you’re not suffering.”

Last night my friend Marla and I went to see the comedian Randy Rainbow, and, like I’m wont to do at shows, I bought a magnet as a souvenir. Well, when I got home it was quite the chore to fit the magnet on my magnet board. Alas, after over twenty years of collecting show magnets, my board has gotten quite full. Well, thank god, I finally found a spot. BUT THEN–out of the blue–I remembered a show I saw seven years ago that I never bought a magnet for and impulsively bought it (on sale) online. But where the hell will it go? I thought.

This afternoon I remembered that well over ten years ago when I was still living at home I installed a magnet board covered in vintage movie-star-themed wallpaper on the back of a desk that we still own but whose back is to the wall. Of course, I got excited thinking that I could take the board off the desk and–somehow–mount it in my room. (I realize “mount it” sounds dirty, but I don’t mean it that way. Hell, maybe it doesn’t sound dirty. I’m single. I don’t know these things.) Anyway, down the rabbit hole of possibilities I went considering how I could frame the board and hang it and–because you can’t change one thing without changing everything–how I could rearrange everything else else in my room to accommodate it.

This, as I’ve said before, is why any type of internal or external change is stressful for us. Because deep down we know that changes are like dominos. You set one in motion and then it’s off to the races. You think, I’ll just rearrange this corner, or–I don’t know–go to therapy. The next thing you know, your world’s upside down. At which point you wonder if you’ve done the right thing. But trust me, you have. So just keep going and don’t you dare look back.

Lot’s wife turned to a pillar of salt.

While thinking about my magnet board project I started to get overwhelmed. My Inner Perfectionist told me it had to be “just so,” that there was a right way and a wrong way to do it and that it was MY JOB to figure it out. “Don’t fuck this up,” it said. Thankfully, I ended up telling that guy to give it a damn rest. Because there’s no such thing as perfect, and there’s certainly no way to do this project–or this thing called life–wrong. Granted, there are consequences (results) to our choices, but they’re not as grave as we might imagine. Life is meant to be fun, not so serious.

Along these lines, I ended up putting my project aside to blog for today. Maybe I’ll focus on it next week, maybe I won’t. The world doesn’t turn on my decision. Sure, there will be a domino effect, but–either way–I’ve determined it’s not a big deal.

Last night after the show Marla and I went through a drive-thru to get an ice cream, and–I guess because I have long, fabulous hair–the guy at the window said, “Good evening, ma’am.” Well, I just sat there, letting him figure out that I’m a dude (although I certainly grant it’s getting harder and harder to tell these days). Anyway, he took our order and later when he handed us our frosty treats said, “Good night, sir.” Some people would have been offended about the mix up. But as soon I rolled up my window, Marla and I burst out laughing. This is the power that we have. It’s not life or god who decides if something is a big deal or not–it’s us.

Our perspective determines our experience of reality.

While looking over my magnet collection last night, I remembered with whom I attended each show. And whereas I no longer talk to several of the people who occupy my show memories, I’m proud to say that my memories with them are still fond ones. Thinking of them or the time we spent together doesn’t trigger any resentments. This is good. Not that I want to call them up and go for coffee, but I also don’t want to suffer when I think about them. (The past is over unless we keep it alive.) This afternoon my mom found a picture of me and my sister that neither I or my sister remember seeing before. In it we’re both smiling and laughing big as day. My sister said, “We look so happy.” That’s the deal. Happiness is our natural state. Children know this. We were made to float, not sink through life. And we can. Free from our baggage and bullshit, we WHOOSH! to the surface.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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The Roles We Play (Blog #215)

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Today is Halloween, the day children and adults alike dress up and pretend to be something they’re not. So when I woke up this morning still sick and feeling like crap, I decided I’d pretend to feel good. A healthy person–that’s what I’ll be today! Now I just have to put one foot in front of the other. I really do think my sinus infection is getting better–I have less “junk”–but lately my energy level has been shit. I’m hoping this is because my body is pooling its resources in an effort to heal, maybe make me rest so it can get busy performing a miracle. I like these ideas better than thinking my body is simply throwing in the towel, something I truthfully feel like doing. As the saying goes, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

With this in mind, I’m considering starting a restrictive diet tomorrow in order to give my body a reset. I messaged my friend April today, and she said sometimes she cleans up her sinuses by basically eating chicken, a few fruits, and certain cooked vegetables. She said it takes two weeks for your body to “start over” and four weeks to get the best results. Honestly, this sounds like hell–but I’ve done something similar before, so surely I can do it again. Plus, I really think my body could use some help–help that doesn’t look like chocolate cake and Taco Bell, as I’m pretty sure those aren’t immune system boosters.

This evening I drove to Fayetteville and had dinner with my friend CJ. She told me my hair looked good–different–gayer. Ten years ago a statement like this would have horrified me, like, My hair looks gay? What if someone thinks I am? But tonight I said, “That’s fantastic–I am gay. Better if my hair is too.”

For dinner I had a reuben sandwich on rye, french fries, and a pickle. None of that, of course, will be on the diet I’m starting tomorrow, so tonight I kept thinking, This is my last piece of bread, this is my last french fry, this is my last supper. Oh my god, y’all, I ate my last supper on Halloween–just like Jesus!

Oh wait. His last supper was on Easter–er–Passover. (Holidays are so confusing.)

When we finished eating, CJ and I attended The Rocky Horror Picture Show (my mom called it Rocky Mountain Horror) at Walton Arts Center. I saw a live stage performance of Rocky Horror recently, but tonight was the traditional deal–the movie playing on a big screen, people dressed up as the characters and using props, everyone calling Brad an asshole and Janet a slut. Granted, CJ and I didn’t dress up or use props, but we at least got out of our seats and danced the entire Time Warp, which the couple next to us did not.

Losers.

Here’s a picture of the costume contest that went on before the show. The couple that dressed as Eddie (the guy with the saxophone) and Columbia (the girl in gold sequins and a top hat) won the contest, but if anyone knows Rocky (the naked guy with all the muscles), I’d like to give him a consolation prize. God, Marcus, you don’t have to share every thought that pops into your brain. Your mother reads this, for crying out loud.

If you’re familiar with Rocky Horror, you know audience members throw a lot of shit–toilet paper when they say, “Dr. Scott,” toast when they say, “A toast!” Well, as all that toast was flying through the air tonight, I just assumed it was plain old bread. I didn’t figure people would go through the trouble of actually–well–toasting it. I mean, entire loaves were being thrown–that’s a lot of work. But when the lights came on, sure enough, every piece I saw was burned on both sides. Talk about dedication. Well, shit. Now all I can think about is eating toast. I guess I could get up and make some. I mean, the diet doesn’t technically start until tomorrow.

Far be it from me to overachieve.

This morning I read an article by Joseph Campbell about the history and meaning of Halloween. (It’s long, but you can find it here.) In it he says that Halloween represents dying and is the mythological opposite of May Day, which represents being born. He also says that costumes remind us of the everyday masks we wear. (Can you believe some people pretend to be straight when they’re actually gay?) It’s okay to have roles, of course–dance teacher, writer, whatever. But problems arise when we pretend to be something we’re not or–even worse–mistake the roles we play for our true selves, since ultimately our souls are beyond identification.

All things are part of life.

I’ve said it before, but I don’t like this time of year. It’s cold, everything is dead, and I spend the entire fall and winter shivering. I honestly can’t believe I’m about to start a diet and probably lose the only natural insulation I have. That being said, I’m reminded tonight that to everything there is a season. I have a preference for spring and summer, but the universe clearly doesn’t. Rather, all things–coldness and warmth, fall and spring, death and rebirth–are part of life. Likewise, getting sick and running low on energy are part of life, and just like any season, these things will change.

As for the roles we play, I’ve personally decided to keep pretending that I feel well. Since I pretended to be straight for so long, this should be a cinch. I don’t mean I’m going to ignore my body or not let it rest, but I am going to start asking myself, “What would a healthy person do–what would a healthy person eat?” and then do that. I usually get overwhelmed by dietary changes, so I figure this will be an easy way to simplify things, support my body, and start turning things around. I’ll let you know how it goes.

After toast tonight, of course.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears--the storm is over.

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One Letter at a Time (Blog #208)

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Today is my sister’s birthday. She’s in Albuquerque, and I’m in Arkansas, so we couldn’t do anything to celebrate. Still, I only have one sister, and she only has one birthday, so in lieu of handing her a card or buying her a drink this evening, I’d like to dedicate this blog to her. I’m not sure this is an acceptable present or any great honor, but it is something within my limited power to give. If it makes a difference, if you can picture your dog excitedly bringing you a dead squirrel, that’s how much enthusiasm I have about this small gesture. (Look! I got you an entire paragraph!) Anyway, Happy Birthday, Sis. This dead squirrel is for you.

You know how when you’ve been sick for at least a week and it seems as if you’ll never get better, and then one day you wake up and all that snot and crud that was there the day before is suddenly gone, and you miraculously feel like yourself again?

Well, today was not that day for me.

Last night I read on the internet that you can help heal a sinus infection by doing a nasal rinse with Johnson’s Baby Shampoo in it. (I’m serious. Look it up. It’s a thing.) Anyway, I tried it. Actually, within the last twenty-four hours, I’ve tried it four times. I’m assuming it’s going to take a few days to see if it’s a panacea, but I will say this–things are definitely not worse and may actually be better, there’s a lot of junk being washed out of my head, and it’s kind of fun to see bubbles coming from my nostrils.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Because I’m an overachiever, I also went to the health food store today in search of another weird remedy. Apparently honey is a natural antibiotic, and my friend Marla told me about a particular honey called Manuka that’s supposed to be the shit. Technically, I guess it would be “the spit,” since that’s what honey is–bee spit. Anyway, I’ve been disappointed by “all-natural” remedies more times than I’ve been delighted, but occasionally something works, so I keep trying. In that spirit, I picked up some Manuka nose spray today, so every few hours I’ve been squirting that stuff up my nostrils as well.

So all day the inside of my head has smelled like a freshly cleaned baby slathered in honey. (Imagine that.)

This evening my friend Marla and I went to Fayetteville to see the author David Sedaris, but we first went to Chuy’s Mexican Restaurant to see our cholesterol go up. Y’all, it was ridiculous. I ate a fried avocado, which I’m now convinced was the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve sampled in the garden. I mean, seriously, think about it–who would give up immortality for a plain old apple? But give up immortality for a fried avocado–with rice and beans? Now we’re talkin’.

Since Marla and I saw David this summer in Tulsa (he told me to come back to bed and I wrote about it here), I guess we’re becoming groupies. I also guess we’re in good company, as it was a packed house tonight. One lady I talked to said it was her fourth time to see him. Personally, I find this encouraging. David started off working in restaurants, cleaning houses, and dressing up as an elf during the holidays, and now he’s packing out theater halls. People actually pay money to hear him read! Clearly, anything is possible.

After the show, Marla and I hopped into the autograph line and were relatively near the front. Still, since David spends a lot of time chatting with his fans, we waited about an hour before it was our turn. As has always been the case before, it was worth the wait. I asked him about all the random jobs he used to have and if he always wanted to be a writer. He said he had all those jobs because he didn’t have many skills and that he still types with one finger. Then we started talking about me, and–of course–I mentioned my therapist. So when David autographed the book I brought he wrote, “To Marcus, my friend in therapy.” How perfect is that?

Also, in case you missed it, David Sedaris said we were friends.

Now it’s thee-thirty in the morning, both my body and brain are tired, and despite the fact that my sinuses smell like a freshly cleaned baby’s bottom, I still don’t feel so hot. On one hand I’m looking forward to sleeping and hopefully not not leaving the house tomorrow. On the other hand, sleeping means lying horizontal, and that means more snot in my head. But I’ve got to sleep, and I will as soon as I can figure out how to end this blog.

For the longest time, I assumed certain people had it “figured out.” It’s been easy for me to look at a pretty face or successful author and think they had something I didn’t, something fundamentally necessary for making it in life, whatever “making it” means. Mostly, I blame the internet for this because everyone looks perfect on the internet, but I am starting to see through it. Recently I briefly met a guy, naturally creeped his Facebook page, and every one of his profile pictures looked like it belonged in a magazine. Used to I would have thought this made him special. This time I thought, Are you kidding me! Nobody looks that good in every photo without A LOT of help.

All of us bump along.

Joseph Campbell says, “Life is a guy trying to play a violin solo in public, while learning the music and his instrument at the same time.” To me this means that you can put on a pretty good show, but no one really knows what they’re doing down here. We get sick and try all sorts of crazy things to get better–sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. We spend years jumping from job to job. These things are normal. All of us bump along, often feeling like a lone finger trying to find its way across a vast keyboard. Even when something clicks and clicks big, we still have our questions and mysteries. So we continue–one moment, one letter at a time. In this way, our story is perfectly written.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

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two books and a ball cap (blog #19)

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I’ve spent the last three hours working on a blog post that I finally admitted wasn’t working. So I told myself that I did the best I could, told the blog post, “It’s not you, it’s me,” and I started over. I mean, it’s only 4 AM, my brain stopped working two hours ago, and I don’t know what I’m going to do now. So what could go wrong?

The blog post I originally sat down to write was about The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book by Mark Haddon that I read several months ago and fell in love with, but also a Tony-award-winning Broadway play that I saw in Fayetteville at the Walton Arts Center tonight with my friend Marla. And although I’m absolutely riveted both by the book and the play, and although I cried a lot tonight (which is good because I almost never cry, even when I want to or when it would be really handy), that’s not what I want to talk about. Or to be more accurate, that’s not what wants me to talk about it.

So this is me giving into my muse, who apparently wants to discuss two books and a ball cap. (I can’t believe I just said that, but here we go.)

Last week I found an old gift card for Barnes and Noble. I can’t tell you how long I’ve had it, but long enough to not remember. It had $11.89 on it. So although I’m really not buying a lot of books these days, I decided to use it and get two books that I’ve wanted for a while now, books I haven’t been able to find at a library. Well, the books came today, and it felt like Christmas morning or that scene in Bedknobs and Broomsticks when Angela Lansbury’s witch’s broom finally arrives. I mean, I love books, but this moment at the community mailbox this afternoon was something else.

I’m sure someone’s going to ask, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you. The first book is by Gabor Mate, and it’s called In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. It’s about addictions. The second book is by P.L. Travers (the author of Mary Poppins), and it’s called What the Bee Knows. It’s about myth, symbolism, and storytelling. I really get excited about all this stuff.

But despite my interest in the book topics, I don’t think that’s what caused my excitement. I mean, even now, I’m looking at the two books on top of the television across the room, and I think they look so stately and lovely, which doesn’t make sense because they’re paperbacks. But I’m wondering in the best way if I’m going to be able to find room on my one bookshelf for them, since it feels like trying to find two good seats for two special guests you didn’t know were coming. (I have the sense that we’re going to be friends, that I’ll somehow be different after I get to know them.)

Tonight, after the show was over, I made a second stop by the merchandise table. I’d already been by at intermission to get a magnet, which is my standard and almost-always-only purchase. But the show was so stunning, and I was so emotional, and I’d also been drinking red wine from an adult sippy cup. So I ended up buying a ball cap. The cap is all black, and it has the outline of a dead dog on the front, and the name of the book/play on the back. (The story’s about a fifteen-year-old autistic boy named Christopher who finds a dead dog in his neighborhood and sets about to find out who killed it.)

Anyway, here’s the weird part—I’m so excited about this ball cap that I’m practically doing backflips at almost five in the morning. Two books and a ball cap, and I feel like a virgin on prom night. And I thought I needed a job or a husband to be happy.

And whereas I’m sure the book and the beautiful story and the play all have something to do with my excitement about the ball cap, here’s what I think has actually happened. As I may have mentioned before, several months ago, I threw away, gave away, or sold most everything I owned. This included getting rid of hundreds of books that I’d paid for and collected for close to twenty years. And it also included most of my clothes. I mean, when I got dressed for the show tonight, my choice was between three t-shirts.

And whereas I don’t regret getting rid of anything, and there are a lot of benefits living simply, there are times when it feels like something is missing, or would at least be nice to have. (Like, tonight, I could have used a belt.) Well, one of those things that I’ve thought would be nice to have is a ball cap, since I didn’t keep any of my old ones because they were so worn out. Well, you can get a ball cap anywhere, but I’m fussy, remember, so not just any old ball cap would do.

All that to say that I’m finding that owning fewer things has not only made me infinitely more appreciative of the things I do have, but it has also made me infinitely more excited about even the most ordinary of purchases—two books and a ball cap. And it seems there’s a lot of satisfaction in something you’ve been thinking about buying for a long time (those two books) or wanting for a while (that ball cap), and finally getting it. Like, they’re small things, but I’m so happy with them, I can honestly say I’m glad they didn’t show up sooner. Still, now that they’re here, I wonder where we’ll be going together, what dreams we’ll be more-patiently waiting for.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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