Michael Jackson - Heal the World

I was looking through a shoebox where I keep all my old cassette tapes. I don’t listen to them now, but I could never bring myself to throw away music. They are sort of like keepsakes from another time. My mom would send me tapes in the mail when I was really young, living in foster homes and group homes. I’d play them on my little boombox under the covers of my bed at night. I found these among them and took a photo:

All that is left behind.

All that we are left with now is this “image”, and of course his work. My children will view Michael Jackson as a legend, but he won’t be “real” to them. I guess it will be how my generation thinks of Elvis or Marilyn Monroe. It’s sad, but I know that all generations eventually say goodbye to their icons. The thing about Michael was that he was cross-generational. My brother and I loved MJ, but so did my mother who’d play his records when she cleaned the house or wash the dishes. I know I’ll always remember things like this when I hear his songs on the radio, or when I play them for my own children.

I don’t care to discuss the people dwelling on his eccentricities or his alleged crimes and how they are being cruel to mourning fans. I will just remind them that in America, one is innocent until proven guilty. Nothing could undo the influence he’s had on music in the late 20th century and beyond. He was a humanitarian and celebrated artist, and he will always be loved.

Years from now, we will be asked the question “Where were you when Michael Jackson died?” and I will remember this day the way my mom remembers the death of Elvis or JFK.

I was sitting in my living room when Justin walked through the door, returning from the bank. He said something like “Guess what? Michael Jackson died. My sister got a text saying…” and for a few seconds I fought him on it, thinking he was pulling one of his pranks. I wasn’t convinced, so I ran to my computer and typed his name in Yahoo and raced to his Wikipedia article. I read the first couple lines and said something like “No no… why is it in past tense?” staring at Justin for reassurance it wasn’t true. I guess that was the point I realized one of my childhood idols was gone.

I know it seems so silly to a lot of you, but I began to cry. I still have tears in my eyes as I’m writing this post. I just can’t come to terms with how tragic his life was, and how it has ended so abruptly. He is dead, but his last years were spent being the punchline to every joke. His face was plastered on websites for a quick laugh. Obviously Michael had mental health issues, and the cruelty with which the media treated him must have been difficult for him to bear. I wish he could have had a happier last few years instead of the circus he experienced.

I hope that in spite of the negative views reported on the news, with all the trials, balconies, and veiled faces, we can still always appreciate him for what he’s contributed to the world of music. My fondest memories of Michael Jackson include dancing around to Billie Jean and The Way You Make Me Feel, watching my brother try to dress like Michael with the red jacket and the pants and everything, and of me running away terrified whenever Thriller would play on MTV. Even after I watched the “making of” video I would still be scared of those fake yellow eyes and the werewolf in the letterman jacket. When I visited the Statue of Liberty when I was 9, all I wanted was to “go to the top of the arm like Michael Jackson did in the Black or White video!”, haha. Of course we could only go to the crown because the torch was closed for repair, but I was genuinely upset. I remember watching that movie about his life with my mom; they would always play it on Lifetime. I always cried over the mouse part – poor Ben. Remember how everyone always tried to do the moonwalk? Actually, better yet, remember the Moonwalker game for Sega?

Actually, the song “You Are Not Alone” was my first boyfriend and I’s “song”. We were 9 or 10 years old, his name was Lamont, and we thought the nude scenes underwater were really cool, so we called it “our song”, haha. It is the little memories like this that make the passing of Michael Jackson a very real, very sad moment for me and millions of his other fans worldwide. Also, it is the realization that I am getting older and will experience more death as time goes on, whether it be a celebrity or my own parents. When I called my mother immediately after hearing the news, she heard me crying and after a while said softly “We all die, Ashley.”

R.I.P. Michael Jackson
August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

I have observed the public’s interest in vampires growing rapidly in the past year, quite possibly due to the Twilight books and movie(s). I can’t give too much credit to Twilight though, because Anne Rice had her vampire thing going on long ago, and we can’t forget about The Lost Boys, Salem’s Lot, True Blood, or even Buffy. There is a certain appeal to the vampire lifestyle – the image, power, and history. This has lead to many people attempting to actually be vampires. I will not laugh at this idea, because I know it is in fact possible. I will share with you the most common means of actually turning into a vampire. I do not mean a “sanguivore”, I mean a true vamp. I can not reveal my source, but I will say that it runs deep and is completely reliable, although I mustn’t speak further of this. Forget what you thought you knew from TV, this is real and requires complete faith and devotion. You must follow the instructions to the letter if you wish to become a true, traditional vampire. I have listed both modern and archaic methods:

• Drink the Vampirism Elixir – an ancient cocktail of red wine, drops of blood from three virgins (they need not be killed), and an entire bottle of barbiturates such as Seconal or Nembutal.
• Fill one’s bath with warm water and a bit of Vampire Dust (Thyme and Sage). While relaxing in the specialized water, deeply slice your wrists with a razor or scalpel and hold them beneath the surface until your mortal blood is drained and you awake replenished with vampire essence.
• Whilst chanting this vampirical adage: “Stultior stulto fuisti, qui tabellis crederes!“, hurl yourself off a very high peak onto the rocks below.
• During the darkest of dark nights (one with no visible stars), go rollerblading down the Interstate highway wearing (this is important) non-reflective black clothing.
• Find a solid silver dagger or utensil (I recommend a fork or butter-knife) and plunge it into the nearest pernicious energy fountain (commonly called an electrical socket) to receive induction into the vampire realm.
• Discover a well-hidden spot with active train tracks. Go to this spot dressed in your finest clothing and jewelry in preparation for the rapture (you will want to look beautiful). When night falls, adopt the ceremonial pose of the vampire by laying across the tracks on your back and wait silent and motionless for the next train to pass over you.

Late Tuesday night (as in early Wednesday morning ) Justin complained that he wanted his hair trimmed on the sides because it’s too hot outside. I didn’t feel like it at the time and

said I’d do it another day, and he acted like a baby and said “Well I’m just gonna do it myself” thinking I’d cave like I normally do and just cut it for him. Long story short: I didn’t cave, he cut it himself, it looks absolutely horrid. After I practically cried over the awfulness of his haircut, we lied in bed for a while and laughed at how much he now looks like Simple Jack. (You know, the lovable retard from Tropic Thunder.) I yelled “You mind as well have a bowl cut!” in between sobs. Anyway, I will try to fix it within the next few days.

Our friend Chris is off hopping trains and shit with his “other” friends (read: smelly punk kids), apparently they are on their way to Cleveland and he may be gone for a month. I really hope he doesn’t get caught up in drugs or something again – not because I care so deeply about his life, but because he was supposed to come build me a bicycle. I guess I will have to wait now until he gets back. I’m just rather angry with him because he broke his collarbone and his arm is in a sling and he asked us to watch his cat for him and then he goes off doing this whole trainhopping extravaganza, ugh. Being the boring movies-and-card-games type of girl, I guess I can’t really understand his behavior, and it’s hard to be friends with people like that who need constant boosts of adrenaline and “what if” possibilities to get them through the day.

I’ve been browsing blogs on BlogExplosion but most of the ones I’ve seen are aimed at a slightly older crowd and are not personal in nature like my own blog. I will keep looking though.