What a friggin’ life. Not that I’d enjoy some of the unpleasantries suffered by many of their peers – those without humans to feed and hold them – still…call it kitty envy. No worries. None.

Wish I could say the same. After multiple years as an educator (public schools) I turned in my resignation 12 days ago to the stunned expression of peers and the middle school administrator of whom my future ability to work in that field again depends. When I jumped ship into education in ’06 I hoped it would give me some level of financial stability and provide me an avenue to bring my skills into the classroom. It did. But there remained much missing. My heart keeps telling me there’s more I can do – elsewhere. My teaching expertise – as it was – resides inside the bowels of special education. Although this is an honorable and high-needs area of education, it comes with tremendous challenges. Much I will refrain from listing here. You get the point. Will I seek a different type of teaching opportunity? Yep. Where – jury’s still out.

In the meantime my hope is that I haven’t mis-timed this rather ‘brave’ undertaking. And don’t find myself panicked or without ANY way to pay my bills or keep my dignity intact. I also hope I can gather enough courage to follow my inner passions with my writing; moving closer to that genre which seems to come so naturally for me.

After all, my livelihood and the comfort of my lazy-day cats now depends upon it.

It’s simple. Acceptance is freedom. I accept the fact that my genetics have pre-determined the shape of my lips, my eyes, my rear-end (for the most part), my eye color, my hairline and even how I stand. Yes, how I stand!  For those areas of myself physically that *can* be changed I’m in the throes of doing it. I’m having a ball at the metamorphis. Yes, much of it ain’t cheap. I have my boundaries. Physical alterations will be light and subtle; but that’s the point. It’s the subtlety that usually turns heads. New haircut, new hair color, new makeup pallette, a few new, more sophisticated additions to my closet…all have made a profound impact on how I want to see myself now.

My brain is not far behind. I’m reading so much more now; about so much more. No longer is AARP magazine going to dictate what topics should be my focus; despite some harsh realities; such as job security (for more mature sectors it is definitely more difficult to convince a much younger hiring manager of our virtues in the workforce). Money. When *isn’t* this an ongoing matter for any of us? Here’s the deal: tomorrow is coming. We can plan as best as possible for it, but we can’t change it. Why spend the bulk of today worrying about what it *might* look like 24 hours from now?

I found myself enjoying – no, devouring every detail – of a conversation with my newfound friend, my 22-year-old hairstylist, yesterday; whose mission was to ‘reform’ this frumpy old broad’s look. Jennifer Anniston has little on me now, for starters <:))

A decade ago I’d have sneered at the idea that I would even claim to *have* a hairstylist. No more. Come H or High water in 6-7 weeks I’ll be back not only for a trim but to visit my new colorist; YES, ME, a hair colorist?

Long time coming and I couldn’t be happier. I will forego whatever indulgences or ‘wasteful’ spending I might have used up in the past to cough up the dough for these new ‘necessities’ in my physical life. I’ve already crossed over into a more youthful way of thinking…been working on that for some time now. To my baby boomer, stuck-in-a-rut about themselves friends…wake up! Life is exciting…youthful cohorts can teach us so much about the very things we once clamored for – everything and anything new.

Just because it IS new, doesn’t mean it isn’t stupendous. Hello life – I’m  back.

And a big Happy Birthday to me!

If Michael Jackson had survived his propofol overdose, would anyone – outside of his children and closest friends – have cared?

I venture to guess a resounding NO. In fact, I suspect the second the media converged upon his rented mansion for the scoop on final details; the world would have likely torn what was left of his darkened reputation asunder – once more. Alas, it took his passing to raise him to a kingly throne again. If he’d survived, this iconic diety-like figure of music magic would have made headlines again, but they’d have read much like former ones post courtroom theatrics. “Michael Jackson Overdoses on Propofol in His Rented Mansion!”  ”Michael Jackson’s Children Witnessed Their Father Near Death from Overdose in his home!”  ”Can Michael Jackson Care for His Children?”  Then there’s the upcoming ‘comeback’ tour. AEG and his money people would have been hard-pressed to finish plans for his tour – at least in time to garnish the financial payola they longed for. Thus later headlines might have read something like this: “Michael Jackson’s O2 Comeback Axed – AEG sues to Recover Costs.”

Long before the fateful day of his passing, questions remained about whether 50 performances were too much for his less stellar and aging bod.  The THIS IS IT documentary displayed a vivacious and wondrous thinner-than-I’d-have-liked King of Pop parading through his routines. Watching his nonstop signature movements almost made me forget how pool cue thin he’d become. And if he’d survived, let’s forget the mass hysteria of the media for a moment. How about the fans? The ones who have raised him so high for so long? Would they have supported him faithfully once more? Some would have, of course. Others likely would have stayed clear. Count me into the latter group – *if* he’d have survived this mess. Upon hearing the news of his ‘near fatal’ overdose I’d have shaken my head in disbelief at his thoughtless actions; actions that were so selfish, so about *him* and his needs, surrounding his children with such pain and sorrow should they lose the only person they’ve ever known who truly loved them.

We now know how this story ends. He didn’t survive. Now his name and magic thrives again. As much as I ache at the thought of the loss to all of us with his passing – he was, likely always will be one of the most remarkable humanitarians; unique human beings, and unmatchable genius on stage -the moral of this saga is death turned out to *be* the saving grace for this man and his family.  I have a hard time believing he’d have gathered  little more than single sympathies and undying devoted fan worshipers well wishes if he’d landed in that hospital still breathing.

Michael Jackson’s killer was likely a doctor who got too complacent with a drug he had no business administering outside of a hospital corridor.  Michael Jackson’s career killer would have been surviving it.

http://online.wsj.com/video/what-to-expect-from-shared-doctor-appointments/1136B25B-14FC-42FB-9546-706A95661123.html

Well, we could use that kind of gallantry again – to solve the world’s energy crisis. Coming up with ways to utilize wind, ground-based solar, geothermal (plants and animals no longer alive), as well as the ‘dirty’ type of resources, such as oil, nuclear and natural gas are a decent start. But they won’t get us where we need to go fast enough. According to a recent report from an expert with The Space Development Steering Committee, despite our best efforts to implement every earth bound resource we have, we’ll still run out by 2100. Space based solar power is next to infinite. It runs 24/7. No wind gusts to chase; no tree branches blocking a solar power grid; no nuclear waste runoff to sweat over. Just pure power from the searing neighbor, our sun.

Perot knows how to do “fast.” He has broken records in the speed in which he made money in his lifetime. True, he’s likely lost it faster than others when times falter, too.  We need to explore the resources we have above our heads: space and the sun that inhabits it. Our civilization’s future may well depend on it.

Until maybe now.