Blow it up

You really can start over. Like a child. Abandon all that is and face the abyss. The clean slate. It’s terrifying. But you can. At any age. 

Most don’t because they worry about what others will say. If that why you haven’t, then question your relationships. Those who truly love you may not understand but they will support you. Those who don’t support you, well, they’re not brave enough to do it themselves.  They will watch you and wish they could. 

The first time I did it, I was proving things to myself. The second time I did it, it was a decision to stop waiting for tomorrow and do the things I dreamed NOW. To live NOW.  Because tomorrow is not guaranteed. This last time I did it, 3 1/2 years ago, I did it for justice for myself and to heal the deep past wounds so I could move forward in a beautiful life. I wiped the slate without a plan, and it has worked out magnificently. 

I’m only human. Each of these moves was also a huge “fuck you” to the ones trying to hold me down or hold me back. I’m not proud of that feeling, but I honor it. 

You will lose people if you do this.  Sometimes, the ones you lose will surprise you.  They were there for a season or a reason, and you will see that on the other side.  The people still in my life are the ones I want to keep.  The shedding was worth it.  They are worth keeping. 

I don’t know if I’m doing this phase right. It feels right for now. The Universe keeps pointing me in this direction.  I’m open to learning and growing with it. I once again have a passion. A purpose for my life. And I don’t yet know how I’m going to express it. How it’s going to manifest. But it’s going to manifest. I just hope my loved ones and friends are up for the ride! (Space, people.  We are going to live and work in space before my time here is up!)

You CAN make the change. What you think holds you is an illusion. You CAN live the life you want.  You CAN live your dreams.  Are you brave enough?

Life in 20 Seconds

 

My morning walk took me past the middle school in my neighborhood at around 7:50 a.m., which is about 30 minutes before school starts. Approaching, I could see a boy of about 11 or 12 playing a game on the sidewalk by himself. He was being silly and at one point gently fell over while holding some device that was not a smart phone. I could tell the kid was comfortable entertaining himself and being alone. I felt an immediate kinship. 

My intuition told me that he was probably there so early for the same reasons I used to escape to the bus stop near my house a solid 30 minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive. The homelife is terrible. The heart of my 12-year-old self ached. As I got closer, I debated what my interaction with him should be. 

Up close, I could tell by the roundness of his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes that he is not a heavy drug user. His eyes were hungry for positive human interaction. I know that look well. 

As I passed him, I looked him in the eye and said, "Good morning." 

To which he responded shyly, "Hi." And then returned to whatever device he was playing with without further interaction.

There were so many things I wanted to convey in that 20 seconds of interaction. 

I wanted to tell him that it would not last forever. 

I wanted to tell him that he could make good choices to improve his odds of getting out of there. 

I wanted to tell him that being true to himself outside of the home will help people see who he really is and some will not judge him by his family. 

I wanted to tell him that help can come in many forms, but to be vigilant wary of help that is too good to be true or too perfect. 

I wanted to tell him to never be too grateful.

But, of course, I could not tell him all of these things. What I tried to convey in that brief, "Good morning," is that not all adults are bad, and his reply of, "Hi," whilst looking me in the eyes told me that he already knows that.

This one just might make it. Like I did. 

The Happy Spinster of Tehachapi

I had a plan. I had a great plan. I was going to be the happy spinster of Tehachapi. 

I bought a little house. I was going to get involved in the community. Me and the kitty were going to have our little garden in the backyard, hang the wash on the line, make bread and preserves, grow herbs, bring baked goods to the neighbors, fire pit nights with friends, fly a little bush plane. Maybe even take over the airport manager job someday and do good for my general aviation friends. It was a good solid, happy plan. A bright future. 

But, no sooner was this plan carefully  in place, it was dashed completely. Shattered. Splintered harshly like a half full china teacup dropped on a tile floor. 

The unexpected happened. Fun unexpectedly entered my life. Love entered my life. Punk rock and rock ‘n’ roll late nights on weekends in LA entered my life. Music and history and cooking together and road trips and cocktail bars and books and dive bars and making pasta and new drinks entered my life. New music friends entered my life. Premier Guitar and Tape Op Magazine entered my life.  Passion and sweetness and humor and silliness and weird tv shows entered my life. 

Unexpected. Upside down. Few words needed. I get you. You get me. Easy and healthy and let’s talk about this, he says. I meet his folks and they like me. He meets my friends and they like him. I show up for him and he shows up for me. I messed up and that’s ok. He messed up and we get over it. Keep moving forward. Don’t look back. Right now and let’s plan some fun things for tomorrow. This weekend. Later this year.  Someday. 

I am no longer the only single person at the Christmas party. I am no longer number five at the breakfast table. I have someone to play pool with at the saloon. There is a guitar hanging on my wall and it’s not mine. 

We are members of the Tehachapi railroad museum, and we make beer in the kitchen, and we hang out at the airport when someone has an event, and we pick herbs on the side of the road, and we meet friends for breakfast, and we go to dinner, and my friends have to invite me AND him, and we get to know the servers and the merchants, and they know us, and not just me. 

Not just me. Not the happy spinster of Tehachapi.

Outsider

 

The rock star who insists he is not a rock star snoozes next to me while brightness waxes through the ill-shaded hotel window. He recovers from last night’s show, a fun and intense expression of his religion. You can tell when someone “brings it” when the experience epitomizes intensity and grace. The physical manifestation of his craft integrated with his ability to take in what is going on around him - what the singer is doing, what the bass player is doing, how the audience is responding - comprises the product people want to experience. No, he’s not the lead guy or founder, but he is not on that stage by accident. This is the result of a theme that permeates every aspect of his life. 

I am an outsider to this scene. I absorbed myself in a different world than this for most of my life, but have always nurtured and encouraged the musicians and artists around me, especially my own son. Few pulled the trigger on those dreams. This time the experience is more intimate. This time, the encouragement is to go farther and deeper into what is already being done. 

In this journey I get to interact with people who are playing regularly at clubs in Los Angeles and surrounding communities. No pretense here: I don’t know shit about the music industry. I am an observer. I am absorbing. 

And you know me. I seize every opportunity to study people. Not just for future characters for tales and books, (Yes, Jeremy, I am still working on Mars book 2. Insert appropriate excuses here.), but to better serve and understand the people I care about and therefore the human experience. 

Obviously, his world is full of personalities worth appreciating. 

There is some cross pollination of industries in the people who choose this walk, like our subject artist who is submerged in electronics repair by day. Not many people are just one thing. (Except maybe Pat Todd.) Similar to my own associates, the music makers do what they do during the day so that they can feed their passion. Amplifiers and song writing contrasts propellers and avgas. 

I understand the fundamental nature of the people on that stage and their colleagues who show up to show support. They are the ones who don’t just dream. They make their world happen. Big part or small. Sincere or just for show. These are the doers. They’re the ones bringin’ it into the small hours. 

Then gear is broken down, encased in beat up containers and stowed, all the while and after they do what my ilk refers to as a debrief. “I screwed this part up. That thing was really good. Next time let’s do this other thing.” Cigarettes are smoked. Maybe another drink. Then one guy’s kid has soccer practice tomorrow so he has to go and everyone parts ways until the next rehearsal. 

The light streaming through the part of the blackout curtains that won’t close all the way is full bright now, and the rock star-not-rock star stirs. There is hotel coffee in my immediate future, breakfast, and then probably a trip to a second hand bookstore, consignment shop, or other joyful mundane adventure. I know that whatever it turns out to be, there’s a 90% chance of vinyl. 

Neighborhood Part 2

The morning ritual of sipping coffee on the front porch with Little the Cat continues today. I get to say hi to the neighbors as they walk by with their dogs. The Prince of Poor Choices just walked by with his untrained German Shepherd who is going to either maul somebody’s animal or worse someday. 

All of our backyards are separated by only fences, and as my little house is uphill, I can see most of the adjoining back yards whilst cooking in my kitchen. 

The other day, he was back there pretending to be a Polynesian fire dancer. Six foot red head Mthrfr swinging around flaming batons. He drops one and catches part of the lawn on fire. Genius had nothing with which to extinguish it, so there he was holding two flaming batons and trying to stomp out his on-fire lawn in his flipflops. 

It took several minutes but he managed it. 

Thank goodness, because I was not in the mood to have to call 9-1-1 because the neighborhood is on fire. 

I haven’t seen him do it since. Hopefully he finds another hobby soon.

Neighborhood Part 1

I’m sitting on my front porch with Little sipping coffee. This is one of her favorite morning things. People walk by with their dogs. Lots of dog walking goes on here. 

I just realized that Little is the only non-pedigree animal in the whole neighborhood… except for the squirrels and birds. 

Seriously, when I tell people I have a cat they ask me either what breed or was she expensive. No, really. It’s that kind of neighborhood. 

I have yet to say that I rescued her from the squalor of an antique store and she was feral when I got her. But luckily she was young enough where she tolerated people. Or me at least. Barely. 

I just realized how much I have in common with my cat.  

Billionaires in Space, a Different Perspective

I hear a lot of cynicism and grumblings about billionaires going to space. I hear a lot of passionate questions like, "Why don't they help the poor? Why don't they end world hunger?" Good questions.

Here is a look at some of the good that such ventures do, from an insider's perspective.

The companies that are building these spaceships to haul billionaires and those who can afford it to the brink of space are creating jobs. Thousands of jobs. And, not all of them are directly on the company payroll.

2018 Visit from Bill Nye

All kinds of people work in these space companies. Engineers and designers, of course. Managers and administrative people, yes. But also tradespeople. Tons of tradespeople. Fabricators. Mechanics. Quality inspectors. Security personnel. Safety personnel. Facilities workers. Information technology specialists. (I consider IT a white collar trade. They are very skilled people who are the backbone of every company these days and they do get dirty sometimes.) 

And then there are the subcontractors and vendors who benefit from relationships with these space companies. Textile companies make fabric for composite layup, chemical companies provide consumable materials for composite fabrications. There are companies that provide steel, aluminum, and alloys, companies that provide hardware, fasteners (screws, nuts, bolts), and specialized tools, companies that provide custom welding and metal fabrication. Many of these companies have supported the aerospace industry for years and benefit from additional business with private space companies. But there are many new companies, small businesses, and start ups that are providing products and services specifically for privatized and commercial space companies. 

Several small companies across the United States have started making rocket engines and propulsion systems. Some are providing products and services to the billionaires' space companies, and many are leveraging the inspiration that the more glamorous companies provide to forge ahead on their own or provide products and services to other space start-ups. While not creating thousands of jobs like the billionaires' companies, these small companies are creating jobs in small communities where cost of living and overhead tends to be lower. These small businesses bring high tech jobs and skilled support role opportunities that pay better than minimum wage to these smaller communities. Here are just a few examples: Aerojet Rocketdyne in Canoga Park, CA (https://www.rocket.com/), Ad Astra Rocket Company in Webster, TX (https://www.adastrarocket.com/), and C U Aerospace in Champaign, IL (https://cuaerospace.com/). 

There are small engineering services companies that provide temporary employees to augment an existing engineering team or perform one-time jobs. There are small companies who provide testing and quality assurance services for rocket engines. New small businesses are starting all the time to service this growing industry. And, there are small companies like SpinLaunch (https://www.spinlaunch.com/) who are creating their own space ventures.

In my opinion, space commercialization is the next great industry for the United States, similar in impact to the industrial revolution. It will not be long before we are mining asteroids for metals and water and taking vacations on space stations in orbit or on the moon. The people who are working for these private and commercial space companies and small companies that service them will be the ones starting new space ventures or training the next generation of workers on the skills necessary to go forward in the space industry. I am confident that there will be a lot more space-related jobs in the near future.

So, yes, billionaires are spending their fortunes on exhilarating rides to space instead of philanthropy. But they are also helping our economy by creating jobs and skills that will be a big part of our economic future.