Leave Me Alone, I Hate You

I hate to add to the deluge of morbid Michael Jackson remembrances...but it seems an appropriate time to confess that I too was once a Michael Jackson super fan. No one could compare to Michael in my eyes -- for at least a year anyway, which is an eternity in teenager life.

Every inch of my bedroom wall was covered with his face. (and his glove, and his chimp) I crouched on the floor in front of the television set during the Motown 25th Anniversary special screaming at his every gyration while ignoring my mother's concerns for my sanity.

I saved up my babysitting money and joined the Jacksons fan club. For my efforts I received a free 45 record with a singing hello from the family. (even Tito!)

Sometimes I secretly slept on the floor of my bedroom because I'd read somewhere that Michael liked to sleep on the floor. (his floor must have been much softer than mine) I even went as Michael to a 7th grade Halloween dance. I had to make my own bejeweled socks, they don't sell that stuff in northern Michigan. I looked pretty damn good. Much better than the year I went as an unsolved Rubik's Cube.

I also purchased the Michael Jackson barbie. His ornate red jacket and microphone are sadly now missing, but my nieces still play with that old MJ barbie today -- they just think he's a less muscled version of Ken.

In honor of the gloved one's death yesterday, below is a seriously odd yet sincere entry from 12-year old me:

June 16, 1984

There is such a beautiful intensity about Michael Jackson. He is sad looking. Like a part of him is missing. He shows on the outside all that I feel on the inside. He has good ideals. We believe in the same things. The only difference is that he follows through on his beliefs. I can only try. I hope that I can be as good a person as he appears to be. I love music. I love to perform! That is why I like people like Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie. I feel like I know them. We like the same things. Life here is so limited. I want to try new things! But I suppose I will have to wait til I get older. No one takes me seriously when I tell them that I am going to be a performer. I don't even think I do!! But I'll do my best and see what happens. Right now I am working on losing some weight. That's all today!

Wow, inside I was a tortured, effeminate pop singer. Who knew?!

Years later in the wake of accusations of child molestation and countless other creepy behaviors he displayed -- I suppose it's clear that I should have been aspiring to be a better person than Michael Jackson. And thankfully there was no American Idol back then or there would be some seriously humiliating footage floating around of me singing "Human Nature."

However I do wonder if Lionel and I still like all the same things?

Love that intense can only be fleeting.

December 12, 1984

...I can safely say that I am 100% happier with myself than I was last year. In fact, I look upon myself with a slight tinge of disappointment on how I was behaving. All I cared about was myself and Michael Jackson. I feel I have matured greatly since one year ago..."

Matured greatly? Maybe so. Maybe no.

Either way, I don't regret my former Michael Jackson obsession. Right or wrong, I almost miss the ability to naively believe someone is just that awesome. As we get older, unadulterated hero worship like that is harder to come by, even when someone is a great dancer. We become cynical, jaded. Unable and unwilling to moonwalk.

This is probably a good thing. You need to be a little jaded to make it past 13 these days. Besides, idolizing a public figure too much can lead to horrifying things. Cults. Wars. Assassinations. The Jonas Brothers.

So eventually I ditched MJ to focus my energies on boys who were more readily available, yet also completely unaware of my existence. In the end, maybe Michael Jackson was simply a talented yet bizarre and possibly dangerous perv, but he will always be my first (bizarre and possibly dangerous) love.