So I’m sitting here in my apartment, finishing up the last bit of work for the semester of my last year here at Duke. I’m playing Michael Jackson songs and a spark of an idea comes to me.
What if Michael never sang a note outside of his shower? What if he and his brothers worked at a mechanics garage, fixing engines for a living and hummed show tunes for fun, but never went out on auditions, or gave a concert or dreamed their dreams beyond the dream and into reality?
If all of that had happened, instead of what did happen we would not have Thriller. I would not have The Lady in My Life to swoon to and make believe that it was written with me in mind. We would not have, oh my God, Billie Jean!
Here I am, a grown ass woman and I still miss my late mother. So, I know something about pain, the kind of pain that the Jackson family must be feeling right now. Oh, I’m not saying that I know their particular brand of pain (because that’s personal) but I can empathize. But, the entire world lost an original, never to be seen again, bonafide star. In saying that, I still have not captured what we have lost in Michael. I try, and I try to find the right words and all I can do is play his music over and over.
Music. This is what remains.
So as you dream your dreams, think of Michael and be inspired to make them real. Do all the hard work, and believe (I mean BELIEVE) with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul that you too can really become that which you dream of becoming.
Except for Newt Gingrich. Newt, please stop dreaming of becoming President. Have some respect for the office of the President of the United States and take your philandering, perniciously political pandering, Pillsbury poster child, wannabe pimp of the poor, OFF the national stage.
And like the song says, just Beat It!