We fed the shark to an eagle.

Old people are dying. They have gotten so old that every old person I have known, that then died, has had the Big D. I thought this meant Divorce, or Death, but those were rooted in their time, when Divorce or Death were fearsome events. Dementia is, currently, the biggest D, until the temperatures soar and the ice caps melt. I bet that the next big D will then be Diarrhea, like it is in the Sahara, and we will remember fondly when we could just up and die or divorce our partners or get old enough to start forgetting how to think.

The two best ways to prevent dementia are to 1) die young and 2) think outside the box, keep that imagination rolling, take another route to work, become a completely different person and start like Suduko or crossword puzzles. I have been re-evaluating my life, because why not? I am in a rut. Last night I tried to not be a social worker or Chicago-lover, and was further encouraged when A Very Important Person to Me laughed at my attempts. "Those are the two things you define yourself by" and then I decided that's it. Soon, very soon, I am going to up and switcharoo, change so much that no one, much less the Big D, will be able to recognize me.

My complete and total transformation will be much less effective if I write about it on my blog. But it's fun to think about, fun because I have already offered this coming year up to the Gods of Solitude and Poverty, and the future is a light box in the Seattle apartment of my soul. Oh, Upsilamba Outpost, is this what you were feeling when you decided to up and go? You are doing the right thing. Not only do you speak five languages, including Computer, you will be completely impervious to Dementia! Your brain is the locked box. Mine is oatmeal in a bowl made of paper doilies.

Now wait just a moment. I thought of another way to outrun the Big D: 3) pre-emption. If I begin to think improperly now, abandon linear thought and syntax, I will have been the captain of my destiny. I am a certain genius. Surgery will I have for bird-making. Everything from now on is magnetic poetry is a lightning storm, people.