I’ve been busy with classes, but also a bit lazy; I just didn’t feel like blogging! Apparently I did have some time to take bathroom photos of myself in my new red hat that I bought on Etsy.

You can't see it, but it's slouchy in the back!

This semester is cool because we get to do a classroom observation project at a school of our choice, which is the first actual “education” type of class I’ve taken. Also, we get to read Kafka in World Lit. Other than that, college is just a lot of jumping through hoops to get a piece of paper in order to teach… it’s not as stimulating as I thought it’d be. Most of my knowledge and enjoyment is derived from simply reading the assigned textbooks (minus my one Education book which is too PC for it’s own good). Next year I will be at a larger college, but it’s still just another SUNY school so I can’t be sure if it’ll get much better.

I have two exams tomorrow, so I should get back to studying. Blogging was just another way for me to procrastinate, it seems! I’ll leave you with a quote:

For disappearing acts, it’s hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work. ~Doug Larson

To be honest, I haven’t updated because I didn’t want to write another Michael Jackson post, and that was all that had been on my mind. I found this old MJ book from my childhood and it’s been sitting on my dresser ever since, making me feel so depressed over the whole story. I’ve been feeling a lot better these past few days, but still I wasn’t shocked to find out that over a dozen fans have killed themselves since Michael’s death. It’s extreme to do something like that, but I understand how hopeless you can feel when a part of your youth just dies like that and if you’re already hopeless to begin with, well it could probably be too much to deal with.

Last night we went to see the fireworks downtown by the harbor. We went the previous year and it was really bad, but we decided to go again because we’re suckers. There were so many people and it was hard to find a place to put our blanket down. There was a stage and some terrible band was playing when we arrived. They started talking in between songs and we came to learn that they are from Canada. Umm, why would you have a Canadian band play at a 4th of July festival? I just thought that was odd. I mean… plus they kept playing Beatles covers… can you picture that? A Canadian band playing British pop songs on America’s day of independence? It was truly hilarious.

When the time came for the actual fireworks display, we were excited. That excitement drained away when we started seeing large gaps in the show where there were no lights in the sky at all. The finale was a very lame 30 seconds and the entire display lasted a grand total of like 7 minutes. It was a very pathetic attempt at a fireworks display, but I don’t want to write about anymore of that because it pisses me off.

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