Be careful what you do...with your lemons.

So, I have allowed myself enough time to be sad and wallow in my Michael Jackson funk.

Today, I think I'm done.

This is how I have dealt with sadness over the past 10 years or so. It works for me. I give myself a limited time to be bummed, after which, it's, "OK, that's enough, get over it already, let it go, and face the sunshine."

Unfortunately, Michael Jackson never did that. After weeks of reading up on him, I have come to the following conclusion:

Attitude killed Michael Jackson.

I challenge you to think of anyone, past or present, who has had a 100% perfect life. All of us are born with one deck or another stacked against us. It is what you choose to do with that deck that makes the difference. You can either wallow in your misfortune, or you grab those lemons and make, not only lemonade, but heck, a lemon drop martini!

Michael chose, instead, to let his lemons rot. In the end, they wound up looking like those you find in the corner of your refrigerator drawer-- you know the ones, with the greenish, fuzzy mold, the ones that that fall apart into a pile of stinky slime when you attempt to pick them up.

A shame, because along with those lemons, he was dealt a wealth of exotic, unique fruit. Yet he chose to focus on the lemons, lemons, lemons, until he self-destructed.

This light bulb went on in my head last night, when I found this 1993 footage of Michael being honored by his sister, Janet, at the 35th Annual Grammy Awards. Part one shows how he managed to accomplish so very much, and how appreciated and admired he was for his works and charity. Part 1

In part two, however, after he accepts the award and makes a great joke about finally dispelling the myth that he and Janet are one and the same, instead of focusing on the wonderful fruits for which he was just honored, he turns right around and goes on and on about the lemons. Part2

At the risk of sounding devoid of compassion, I must admit that it was an eye-rolling moment for me. "Oh, get over it, already, " I muttered.

Michael lived his life lamenting what "was done to him." He did not take responsibility for the bad things; no, they were all done to him.

And at that moment, I was able to let go of my anguish and grief, realizing that no matter who you are, your life is what you choose to make of it.

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.

And now, in your honor, I head downstairs to make myself a thriller of a lemon drop martini.