Hello to all of you who might read this... I will write mostly about literature, movies and the occasional Disney review ( I can't help it, I'm a big fan) and maybe post a poem of mine from time to time, but this week, I just have to post something I wrote about Michael Jackson. I know, it is kind of cliche but he was my idol, and I had to write something about him and would like to share it with the world. Here it goes:
My Heroes Are All Dead
The day before my 25th birthday I thought the world is going to end. My childhood idol, the person who made me want to dance, the ambassador of all of the world's problems died. Fifty years old and left the world too soon.
As soon as the reporter from CNN confirmed the death I saw my entire childhood flash in front of my eyes. I wasn't even old enough to know of whom I was talking about, whose choreographies I was trying to copy, whose music I was listening to, but he was my mentor.
In 1990 my parents brought me to Walt Disney World for the first time. My favorite ride? Captain EO. Well, it wasn't really a ride, it was a 3D movie. But it was still my favorite. We watched it numerous times. Every time we left the theater I was singing "We Are Here To Save The World"--or try my best to mouth words that resembled what the original lyrics were--I didn't speak English back then--and doing all the dance moves. I was 6 years old. My dad even tried to tape it for me so I could watch it back home.
Why was that my favorite ride? Because he was in it. The only person in the world who could dance like that. My idol, Michael Jackson.
For the next six years I would spend countless hours in front of a television set, trying so hard to learn those magic moves.
It's funny how sometimes life hits you with a wake-up call. On the verge of coming into adulthood, my childhood hero dies. He, who didn't want to grow up, a real world Peter Pan.
It's been a week, but I still can't believe it. It is all around me, permeating every second of newscast I hear, and I continue refusing to believe. I saw a video of him rehearsing for his new tour merely two days before passing. It makes me believe it even less. It also makes me cry that I'll never see him perform.
And there it is: the last of my heroes is dead. The others are Freddy Mercury, Cazuza and Renato Russo (the last two are among the best Brazilian lyricists and poets of the 20th century). The four men who inspired me to dance and sing as a little girl, and later to write are all gone.
Time to grow up.
PS: next week I'll start talking about a book I'm reading right now: Brian Meltzer's Book of Lies.