Zing, Zang, Zoom; We'll Miss you MJ

From my standpoint, the circus was a two hour jackpot and combination of all things amazing and fun: synchronized elephants performing headstands, women being catapulted out of 20 feet canons, crazy clowns juggling bowling pins, magic, tightrope performances, circ du soleil-esque ribbon people, poodles riding tri-cycles, performers jumping through, literally, flaming hoops - and tigers.

At one point, two large circles were outlined in the arena and a group of horses were ushered into one (the one nearest our seats) and a group of zebras into the other. I was pissed that we got the ordinary horses and could hardly see the zebras. That is, until the horses began to run in circles and, on command, neigh up in unison, then continue running, and again, in unison, begin to hop and perform tricks. Meanwhile, the zebras were merely running from one side of their pin to the other, simultaneously tripping over one another and doing nothing as spectacular as my horses.

It seemed that white and black striped animals - they don't have to do tricks. It's cool enough that they're uniquely patterned.

First trip to the circus - success. Zing, Zang, Zoom.

Which flowed right into the following day at work, in which I discovered that Michael Jackson had died. The only thing I could do was march back into my office, change my online Pandora radio station to Michael Jackson's, turn the volume up, and gaze blankly at my computer screen.

It was such a bizarre feeling really, just to think back on a good chunk of my childhood, all laced with Michael Jackson's music: cross-country road trips, inside jokes, and of course, the dances my friends and I used to make up to his songs, only to be performed in my living room for my family. At this time, we had his tapes, and one of us would push down on the play button and then sprint back to our positions. And man would we put our emotions into these dances - leaping and bounding off of beds and fire place mantles. We felt the rhythm and we were super, super cool.

Thinking back on it, the family never did laugh or show anything but awe and encouragement, which is, to put it lightly...impressive. It wasn't until years down the road, at a highschool pep rally, that Michael Jackson made his next appearance in my dancing life, and along with the cheerleading squad, we performed Thriller. Dressing the part, we all looked dead. And with red food dye dripping down my face, one thing that stands out in my memory, was throwing my fake arm into the audience.

It's so cliche, but the impact he had on so many of our lives...it was something. And for me personally, this was quite the loss. You will be missed, Michael Jackson.
You will be missed.