ben, the two of us, need look no more.
i haven't felt the urge to write about a feeling in quite some time.
writing was normally an outlet for every bad thought i had in my head, and those were bountiful, but since my cognitive behavioral therapy, i've been able to teach myself to be proactive about those bad thoughts, turning them into something to improve my life, rather than use them for both, attention, and the comfort that came along with feeling morose.
the michael jackson memorial is on.
i realize, in the age of one hundred and thirty character attention spans, that the very notion of michael's passing is already old news, which, on its own, is quite indicative of the ugly state of the world, but since his passing, while i've been terribly upset, i never really sat and thought about why i was terribly upset.
but now the michael jackson memorial is on.
i joked to my wife, in an offhand sort of way, via email, that i'm watching the memorial, and that i was sad, and in an un-thought out, spontaneous fit of typing, said 'my childhood just died...'
and then i re-read that.
my childhood, in a legitimately awkward and sincere way, just did.
my wife, months and months ago, asked me to go through my childhood and list all the great things i remember about my childhood, from birth to, say, mid teenage years.
i couldn't think of one.
but boy i could recite every negative instance, to an extremely vulgar degree. i had/have loving parents, a loving sister, a wonderful upbringing, but, as i grew up, i grew scales on my back, rotting claws, and a mind hell bent for disaster.
and so a monster i became. a maniacal, complacent, and subtly vicious monster that could crush a room with one sentence, and crush a person with a look.
but now the michael jackson memorial is on.
for my fifth birthday i got 'thriller' on vinyl. i remember everyone at my birthday party screamed as if he had just walked into the room. i remember screaming too. i remember how happy i was that, that was mine. i remember asking my mom to put that record on, religiously, and i remember dancing to it, not well, mind you, but it didn't matter. i remember not having a clue what 'mama-se, mama-sa, ma-ma-coo-sa' meant, but giggling every time i heard it, because i loved it so much.
i remember being in my basement , with cousins and aunts and uncles and family friends, watching a motown anniversary special, and with a wonderment only a child is still luckily able to have, watched him moonwalk for the very first time. i remember rewinding it and rewinding it and watching it again. i remember the goosebumps i got from literally hearing the crowd in that audience cracking their jaws on the floor and then having to decide whether to leave it on the floor and keep watching, or, pick it up and potentially miss something else, completely inhuman.
i left mine on the basement carpet.
i remember the thriller video. i remember being so incredibly terrified and excited at the exact same time that i didn't quite know what to do with myself. me being so young, having both a 'run and hide/no stay this is amazing.' disposition sent a brand new chill through my veins that i couldn't escape. and i never wanted to. something else would have eventually given me that feeling. but something else didn't. michael jackson did.
i remember not seeing e.t. until much much later than any person should, but i could recite the entire movie, because my uncle got me a picture disc, of e.t., on vinyl, narrated by michael jackson, with a giant poster of michael and e.t. together. my mother dug it out, thankfully not having thrown it away through the years, and gave it to me on sunday, and i stared at it, and a rush of child hood comfort and complete sadness that through my self created monster that i constructed, didn't allow myself to hold on to that memory, and that record. but now i have that record again, and i plan on listening to it, again.
and you can say what you wish about michael jackson, about the deeply deeply troubled and disturbing life that was laid out for him. it is pop consumption for the ages, and will be talked about until the end of time.
none of that matters to me.
i am perpetually and forever thankful to michael jackson for giving me the remembrance of a childhood smile that i shattered from my life, that i now have back, and will not allow myself to pretend didn't exist.
and so the michael jackson memorial is on.
and i am filled with great sadness and true joy, filling me with that 'run and hide/no stay this is amazing' disposition once again, like he first taught me.
thank you michael.
kevin
writing was normally an outlet for every bad thought i had in my head, and those were bountiful, but since my cognitive behavioral therapy, i've been able to teach myself to be proactive about those bad thoughts, turning them into something to improve my life, rather than use them for both, attention, and the comfort that came along with feeling morose.
the michael jackson memorial is on.
i realize, in the age of one hundred and thirty character attention spans, that the very notion of michael's passing is already old news, which, on its own, is quite indicative of the ugly state of the world, but since his passing, while i've been terribly upset, i never really sat and thought about why i was terribly upset.
but now the michael jackson memorial is on.
i joked to my wife, in an offhand sort of way, via email, that i'm watching the memorial, and that i was sad, and in an un-thought out, spontaneous fit of typing, said 'my childhood just died...'
and then i re-read that.
my childhood, in a legitimately awkward and sincere way, just did.
my wife, months and months ago, asked me to go through my childhood and list all the great things i remember about my childhood, from birth to, say, mid teenage years.
i couldn't think of one.
but boy i could recite every negative instance, to an extremely vulgar degree. i had/have loving parents, a loving sister, a wonderful upbringing, but, as i grew up, i grew scales on my back, rotting claws, and a mind hell bent for disaster.
and so a monster i became. a maniacal, complacent, and subtly vicious monster that could crush a room with one sentence, and crush a person with a look.
but now the michael jackson memorial is on.
for my fifth birthday i got 'thriller' on vinyl. i remember everyone at my birthday party screamed as if he had just walked into the room. i remember screaming too. i remember how happy i was that, that was mine. i remember asking my mom to put that record on, religiously, and i remember dancing to it, not well, mind you, but it didn't matter. i remember not having a clue what 'mama-se, mama-sa, ma-ma-coo-sa' meant, but giggling every time i heard it, because i loved it so much.
i remember being in my basement , with cousins and aunts and uncles and family friends, watching a motown anniversary special, and with a wonderment only a child is still luckily able to have, watched him moonwalk for the very first time. i remember rewinding it and rewinding it and watching it again. i remember the goosebumps i got from literally hearing the crowd in that audience cracking their jaws on the floor and then having to decide whether to leave it on the floor and keep watching, or, pick it up and potentially miss something else, completely inhuman.
i left mine on the basement carpet.
i remember the thriller video. i remember being so incredibly terrified and excited at the exact same time that i didn't quite know what to do with myself. me being so young, having both a 'run and hide/no stay this is amazing.' disposition sent a brand new chill through my veins that i couldn't escape. and i never wanted to. something else would have eventually given me that feeling. but something else didn't. michael jackson did.
i remember not seeing e.t. until much much later than any person should, but i could recite the entire movie, because my uncle got me a picture disc, of e.t., on vinyl, narrated by michael jackson, with a giant poster of michael and e.t. together. my mother dug it out, thankfully not having thrown it away through the years, and gave it to me on sunday, and i stared at it, and a rush of child hood comfort and complete sadness that through my self created monster that i constructed, didn't allow myself to hold on to that memory, and that record. but now i have that record again, and i plan on listening to it, again.
and you can say what you wish about michael jackson, about the deeply deeply troubled and disturbing life that was laid out for him. it is pop consumption for the ages, and will be talked about until the end of time.
none of that matters to me.
i am perpetually and forever thankful to michael jackson for giving me the remembrance of a childhood smile that i shattered from my life, that i now have back, and will not allow myself to pretend didn't exist.
and so the michael jackson memorial is on.
and i am filled with great sadness and true joy, filling me with that 'run and hide/no stay this is amazing' disposition once again, like he first taught me.
thank you michael.
kevin