Michael Jackson, the Elvis of my generation, is dead. It takes something like this to get me back to blogging after a month of being very quite and very busy. My b/f woke me up last night to tell me that Michael Jackson is dead. He never dares wake me up, especially when I’ve had a rough day and really need to sleep. It takes something like this for him to disregard the fact that I’m sleeping and wake me to impart the news.
Every single person on this planet has an opinion about MJ. Today everyone has voiced it, whether negative or positive. For me apart from everything else he might be, he is the epitome of my childhood. His music was the soundtrack to my formative years. Many hours were spent listening to his songs, copying his dance moves and his singing, or better put trying to copy both, sometimes more successfully than others.
Hearing of his death filled me with sadness and memories. Sadness for his early death, sadness for his (deserved or not) strange and turbulent life.
Sadness for another little bit of my childhood that’s dead.
And magical memories of myself as a careless little girl dancing and singing to his voice, of my brother trying to do the moonwalk, of watching his video clips on the black and white telly in a remote village in Greece and feeling “homesick” for Canada and many, many more memories that I’d rather not share.
So, at the very least, for these memories I’d like to thank him. I hope that if there is an afterlife he finds all the things he was desperately looking for in this life. Whatever.
Rest in peace Michael and thank you for the memories.
@katmitchell den einai oloi san & mas pou prepei na einai anwtera bia gia na paroun adeia, iparxei & i "adeia" adeia pou pairnoun merikoi?:P
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Couldn’t agree more with you. I remember myself dancing to his tunes when I was barely a teen. Love his music!