I went to a very odd thing last night, in my capacity as a plus one to my house mate. It was a musical tribute to Michael Jackson and it was quite strange. A mix of singers doing cover version along with youff doing youff dancing, somewhat out of time with each other if the truth be told, and a bit of a band in the background. The band were oddly geeky whenever the bass and lead guitarist got to come out for a short skiff. Skiff isn't a musical term, is it? Oh well. The funny thing is that the format of the event had someone taking on a voiceover role in the style of a documentary. I can get why at such an event they'd be all about the fandom and wasn't Michael an amazing showman. What I find a little too feelgood is the way they tried to paint a picture of him as someone who tried to make a change for the better in the world. I really didn't get that. In my head is a picture of an unhappy man who despite his sometimes thoughtful lyrics on the subject of colour, didn't entirely accept his own birthright and tried to do for colour what androgeny does for gender. I also have that sceptic's suspicion about his activities behind closed doors and his association with some of the young people in his life. It's not all glory and glowing. There's nothing of that man that I aspire to be.
What I want to be is simple. It's me. I want to be able to think of myself as a rather wonderful creation of things I chose to become. I want to live up to the good qualities my friends believe I have and to remember what those are while at the same time, accepting my own limitations and embracing those individualities. Above all, I want to remember from time to time who that person is. I want it to be enough that I think I'm someone to be proud of. But then, I'm starting with the man in the mirror ...
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