Forever Had to Cancel

They done killed my Michael. I just can't believe it. I am irritating a lot of people by my inability to believe. Every time I see him, hear of his death, hear his song, I am sunken into disbelief.

I was in the shower when the news broke. When I got out, Brittany had sent me this passe text message about him and Farrah Fawcett. I couldn't believe. I was screaming at the tv, talking about, "Stop playin'!"

My mom asked me what was going on. She loves some Michael Jackson so I had to pause and lower my voice. "Mama, Michael Jackson is dead."

"No! No way! No!" She thunder walks upstairs to look at CNN with me.

They done killed Michael.

I am a little ashamed to write this blog entry really because I am sad as though I lost someone I knew, who was close to me. But at the same time, I can't help it.

I am a young, Black African immigrant composed of sentimentality and nostalgia. My experience as the aforementioned conundrum is a condition soothed only by music and my imagination.

Michael Jackson was the first American I ever understood. At three years old, I used to sit and watch remarkable amounts of VH1 and MTV, overly intrigued by Michael and Madonna. Of course, Michael beat out Madonna easily, but those two people taught me English and America.

Even as a child, before I knew how decrepit the world really was, I always admired Michael Jackson for his genuine concern for the plights of many around the world. He didn't really have to care and I guess that was part of the appeal of Michael. To be so famous and have so much, he retained a brand of humility some of the poorest don't seem to have sometimes.

He was weird, to say the least, but so what. Doesn't bossip.com tell us everyday that Hollywood is Hollyweird (and it is)?

He was persecuted and vilified, as far as I'm concerned. It is sad really, the whole story. His rise and demise is a testament to the fragility of every human being. Michael is just the example because he is incomparably famous.

It is just amazing how much he did philanthropically. It is unbelievable. And aside from the fact that I absolutely love his music, thought I was going to marry him, wrote him letters describing the kind of wedding I thought we should have (yes I really did this), he was a hero to me.

He did, with his influence and money, just what I hope to do one day. He seemed to believe that we are all responsible for one another. That is always how I have felt.

My Dante's Divine Comedy professor mentioned a quote one day in class that pretty much summed up what life is supposed to be like. He said "You are to wound yourself and bleed with the others so as to be familiar with their pain." He explained that the point of this is to not only empathize, but to make it hard to hurt or harm people. If you are familiar with the pain, the hope is that you would not inflict it on others.

Of course, this concept is wholly lost on people. Those who feel comfortable, who are not suffering just don't care. The others don't matter. The suffering of the masses is their own fault.

So we close our eyes, deafen our ears, shift responsibility, and wait on the world to change, as if it requires no human effort, as if someone else will do it, someone else is responsible.

Michael sang to us that you must start with the Man in the Mirror. Ain't nothin' more true been said, son. Congratulations on changing the world Michael. Do rest in perfect peace.

I can't believe they done killed my Michael. I don't think I ever will.

Stop the love you may save may be your own