Friday, June 26, 2009

Now 50 is young, eh?

One of the few gratifying bits of fallout from the untimely demise of Michael Jackson is that many say he died far too young. And as he is just a tad older than yours truly, that makes me feel better about things.

Yes, I know: "Way down deep you're very superficial, Ann Podolske" (yes, I appropriated that line from "Julia"--it's a keeper, isn't it?)

As for my feelings about Michael Jackson? Such a waste. A very talented man, certainly, but an unbridled mess as well. Too much money and not enough therapy was his tragedy. While his family likely set the dysfunctional stage for this poor soul, someone somewhere along the line should have said, "Listen, Michael. You don't need your own theme park, you don't need a hyperbolic (was that it?) chamber, and you sure as hell don't need a chimp as a best friend forever. You need therapy, honey--lots and lots of therapy. Don't spend another dime on anything else until you've been on the couch for a decade--and send those little boys home!"

But no, no one had this talk with him. Or maybe they did, and he chose to buy tons of crap and plastic surgery and keep his inner little boy stoked instead of working on himself. Maybe that was the best he could do.

How sad is that?

As for the other cultural icon who left the planet this week, I must admit I was not a Farrah Fawcett (SP?) fan. I liked the Kate Jackson angel best, as was required by lesbian law (and the show was on even before I knew I was a lesbian--how clueless could a gal be?). Of course, I saw her poster numerous times (I can almost see it hanging up in the Blakes' basement rec room, circa 1976), and thought she was cute, but that's about it. She was a big thing, and then she wasn't. At least she doesn't have the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that Michael Jackson has, and that counts for something, doesn't it?

Well, that's enough muttering for one day--maybe for one week, eh? Happy trails to you all, A

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The end of an era.....

I'm plunk in the middle of my last week as a 40-something, and I think "disbelief" sums things up nicely. How in the hell did I get to be (almost) 50? I mean, I did everything I could to make sure this wouldn't happen in my teens and 20s (smoked, drank to excess, drove while drinking to excess, etc.).

Apparently am supposed to be here, if one believes such things.


Or perhaps Whomever Is in Charge got distracted at key points of my journey, and didn't hit the "EJECT" button when the opportunity--or let's be real, here--opportunities arose. True, I did get hit by a car in my mid-40s (stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact), but that just hurt--and it was damn embarrassing. How does one get herself hit by a car stone-cold sober, when one didn't get hit by a car while staggering around on streets and in traffic, umpteen sheets to the wind in countries where the traffic goes the "wrong" way?

Life is perplexingly unfair, this I know. My current circumstance perhaps most perplexing of all. If I had to describe myself, I'd say I am a caregiver who finds time to work and occasionally have some fun, but mostly I do my gal Linda's bidding. Not terribly successfully, alas. This has been going on for a while now, and while I know that all things come to an end, that does not really offer any comfort. I don't want "all things" to end, even if it means I have to schlep, juice, clean, call, coordinate, drive and what-have-you for my gal until I'm well into my 50s and beyond, exhausting as that premise may be.

A friend on Facebook tells me that her 50s were better than her 40s. This, I hope, is a masterpiece of understatement for yours truly, but only time will tell. And Time, she's a veritable Sphinx right now.

Am looking forward to my birthday, at least. I am having an official Day Off on my day, and will sleep in for the first time in months (February, I think). This constitutes a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Perhaps the key to having one's 50s be better than one's 40s is reduced expectations, eh? Just a thought....