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Cakes, scrapes, and free time.

It's amazing how much you can get accomplished when you have as little as 24 hours of "free time" on your hands.
Since my vacay started on Saturday, I've managed to get my house chores done, and my Avon sorted. Now I'm wandering around wondering what to do with myself!
Rachel took a notion to bake a cake today so she pedalled up to the store for supplies. Hitting a pothole on the way and leaving a tire skid mark on her chin. She's like rubber, always bounces back. Got to the store, bought her goodies and came home and baked the darned cake, even though her chin looks like she's been run over by a motorbike.
Kids. Gotta love their resilience. :-)

Summer Vacay

Well..I finally managed to finagle a whole week off of work. Starting Saturday, I'll have seven whole days of vacay. And man..do I need it!
Never mind the fact that I'm probably going to have to work my butt cheeks off when I get back. :P
I'm seriously considering a change of career.

I've been doing some more writing. Essays mostly. Things I have an "opinion" on, so they could get dangerous. Or downright boring. Depends on who's reading them I suppose :P
I'm thinking of writing a fiction novel. I do have some plot bunnies gathering dust in my brain, but I'm not sure if I have the patience to dust them off and sort them all out in a neat row. Or chapters as the case may be.
Nevertheless, at least now I'll have a week of downtime to clear out some cupboards, both the ones at home and the ones in my brain. :P

Or I could just say to heck with it all and spend a week at the beach. Which would be nice too :-)

Michael Jackson: Triumph and Tragedy

Michael Jackson: Triumph and Tragedy

There are those who will remember Michael Jackson as the "King of Pop", the eclectic artist known for his electric dance moves and killer vocals.
His rise to fame, from the tender age of 10 performing with his brothers as part of the "Jackson 5", is unparalleled.
That he had the biggest selling album of all time with "Thriller" is no accident. For he was destined to be a star.
Whether at the hands of his manager Father, or the Father Creator himself.
The name of Michael Jackson has become synonymous with musical genius, and personal excess.

I cannot recall, since the last day of Elvis, an entertainer who has managed to captivate the entire globe by his passing.
The internet almost came to a standstill with bloggers and twitters clogging up the cyber airwaves with the news. The nightly news' top story for four days running, not to mention the TV tributes already in the works. The world sat in stunned silence. And grieved.
His death is as shrouded in mystery as was his life.

For me Michael Jackson will forever be a mixture of one of the greatest singers/dancers of all time, and the most eccentric, tragedy laden figures since that of Howard Hughes.
There is no denying that in his heyday, he was magic. On top of the world along with the help of "Billie Jean" and the millions of fans around the world who bought his albums because they took the words literally: "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough".

But the accollaids, the Grammys, the fanciful fun park that is Neverland, the surgeries, the lawsuits, and the allegations of child molestation will be forever entwined in the psychies of those who watched his meteoric career. And let us not forget his dangling his infant son "Blanket" from a German hotel balcony. If there is such a thing as a Pandoras Box, Michael had it filled to the brim. For one never knew what would come out next.

And yet, in his death, I fear there will be more to come. For one cannot achieve the fame that he did without there being a tremendous back to it's front. There will be stories, personal accounts, of who he was away from the Paparazzi he loved to court during concert promotions and loathed when he was in a quagmire of legal trouble. Confidentiality agreements no longer apply. There will be accountings of his excentricities that will finally and forever overshadow the core of his being, his music. His talent. As the legendary, and in my humble opinion, greatest dancer of all time, Fred Astaire once described Jackson as "brilliant", that too will be wiped away by the never ending surge of the worlds insatiable need to know every nook and cranny of Michael's life. The good, the "Bad", and the downright ugly.
I fear that all that he aspired to be in his musical endeavours will never be greater than the sum of his lifes' bizarre counterparts. Which is the tragedy. All that creative brilliance self desecrated by ego, fame, loneliness and fear. A man who never really lived in the real world, but in the world created and cultivated by all those who wanted their piece of him. His name, his fame, his life. And now, his death.
He was loved, he was loathed. There will be the faithful that will forget his shortcomings and dance and sing to his seemingly never ending string of hit songs. There will be those who will want to know if he really "did it" and hope the truth comes to bear for the sake of all those he seemingly took advantage of. But in the end, he's still Michael Jackson. "The King of Pop".

A lonely man who never found true happiness except in those moments, bathed in the spotlight, singing and dancing before millions of adoring fans.
He was an illusion. A manufactured dream character who bedazzled the world with his creative artistic genuis. A boy from Gary, Indiana who never grew up.

There are those who say there will never be an artist who will achieve the massive success that was embodied in the Moonwalking, glitter gloved clad Jackson. For the sake of that artist, I hope that they are right.

Scottish Lass takes talent world by storm

Last night while perusing CNN, I came across a link to a story about a woman from Scotland who auditioned for "Britain's Got Talent" last Saturday.


Susan Boyle, a 47 year old unemployed spinster, who lives with her cat "Pebbles" in the village of Blackburn, Scotland, tried out for the British talent show and if you watch the clip, has created a global sensation, via YouTube, with her rendition of "I Dreamed A Dream" from Les Miserables.

While certainly not looking the part of a singing Diva, Susan brought the house down with her pure and absolutely moving vocals.

The judges were left stunned, as was the audience, who just minutes before she began her soaring rendition, were not only scoffing at her, but laughing at her expense.

Amanda, one of the judges, stated that Susan's performance served as a "wake up call" to everyone who has a preconceived notion that in order to sound like an angel, you have to look like one. That appearances are deceiving and never to judge the preverbial book by it's plane jane cover.

What Susan has accomplished, simply by being herself and singing from her very soul, is turned the entertainment world on it's ear. The Britneys and Mileys of the world are a result of mass marketing, make up and hair entourages and vocal coaches. Talent comes somewhere down on the list. But Susan, a simple yet feisty church going spinster, who cared for her ailing Mother until her passing in 2007, has shattered all stereotypes and has shown us all that, no matter where you are, or what you do, or what you appear on the outside, it's OK to dream a dream.

I hope we'll be seeing, and definately hearing, this lady in the future. Her voice is one of the few that deserves to be heard. A voice from the soul, that pierces the heart.

Bravo Susan. Bravo


Finally!  What  a week.  I've decided that I'm going to make some serious time to do some writing.  Something that I started a long time ago and have kept putting off and off and off due to having too much damn stuff to do all the time.
My muses are crying.  They're being neglected.   Time to let all these wild ideas out of my head and onto paper, before the nice young men in the clean white coats come and cart me off.