Paying Your Last Respects

In light of Michael Jackson’s memorial yesterday; I’ve found my perception of life changing.

No matter what your opinion of the late Jackson was; you cannot deny – and you are a filthy liar if you do deny – the fact that the man was talented.

Hell, he was talented and he was ambitious. He constantly pushed himself to be bigger, greater and more magnificent than the last time you had seen him. To most, he was ridiculous but looking at the news coverage now and seeing the sea of thousands upon thousands of people who have shed tears for him; it appears those who considered him ridiculous were few and vastly outnumbered.

Jackson was a human being. I think we are forgetting that in this last week because we’ve spent so much time hero-worshipping him and putting him on a pedestal.

Nonetheless, the man with the golden walk was a human being. He was hurt by us. We were at times shocked and hurt by him. He made mistakes just as we make mistakes. Yet, the higher you are the harder you fall and there was no one doing what Michael Jackson did that was higher than him. No, sir. He was the highest and mightiest of the mighty until he took his big fall. He spent his last few years a recluse and a cripple; comforted and sustained by the love his surrogate children provided him.

His daughter, Paris, bid an emotional farewell at the memorial service yesterday as Janet Jackson clung onto her from behind. The little girl spoke confidently, without a doubt in her voice that her father was the greatest man who had ever lived and that he had loved her endlessly but her emotions and her grief made her entire composure crumple. As her face broke apart into tears; I think my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Michael Jackson made mistakes. He was human. He took a big fall over ‘alleged’ crimes.

Yet, he is a historical figure and there was not a dry eye in the Staples Centre yesterday; I can assure you.

Watching that... and watching these events fold over these last few days after his death; I can tell you I feel so Goddamn inspired. This man was a delicate, musical prodigy. He worked his ass off and he sang with soul because it was his passion.

We felt his passion and we immediately succumbed to him. We felt his passion and we cried when we learned that it was dead.

So, even in death, Michael Jackson is still inspiring. This is cheesy as fuck but it’s more honest than anything I’ve ever felt or said in my entire 19 years of life. If you have a dream, if you havce a passion and if you’re *talented*... God, just go for it. You don’t want to die and have one miserable sod at your funeral.

Human life, no matter whose it is; should be fucking celebrated. Every single dead person deserves a memorial like Michael Jackson’s; with millions of people watching it live at home, the biggest celebrities crying by your gold-cased coffin – to be encapsulated in history as *great.* We all deserve to be remembered and to be made a fuss of when we die just like Michael Jackson... but you got to work damn hard for it.

Michael worked damned hard and he deserved it. Yesterday was his day. So stop your bitch-ass whining about ‘Ooo my tax dollars paid for this... uhh, why?’ Bitch, shut the fuck up. For once, we’ve put money towards something that emotionally unites and ties people together. Everyone at the Staples Centre yesterday felt like they were one body. One massive body quivering with grief.

Work hard.
Chase your dreams.
Be the next Michael Jackson.
Hell, be the next you.
Aspire to something.

You get one life, make it a good fucking one and maybe someone other than that one dude/girl you fucked four years ago will turn up to your funeral.

That’s what Michael Jackson’s taught me, folks.