I honestly believe that everyone has a MJ story. A moment in life where his music inspired your actions, or where a song just echoed around the moment. Technically, I have two. One where he inspired me to do something that I would never have considered if it weren’t for him, and another where all that kept me calm was a song. First of all, my Michael Jackson inspiration story. Not many people know, or would even believe judging by my current size and flexibility, but the first sport I ever did properly (because I’m fairly sure that practicing my sister’s jazz moves don’t exactly count) was gymnastics. I loved it, and because of my short, thin physique, I was unusually good at it. Unusually, because on flat ground, I couldn’t move two metres without falling one my face, but on beam, I could truly do anything.

Whilst my sister may have (or did have) an inkling, once again due to us dancing in the lounge room together, there were two reasons for me having chosen to do gymnastics, especially since it was before gymnastics barbie came out.

Because my mother had exceptionally bad music taste, for the most part, despite the year having been 1990 when I was born, I was most definately an 80′s child. My older sister (and the person I had aspired to be once I realised Michael Jackson was a man, and as such, I could not be him, and Madonna was already taken) was an 80′s child, and it showed. We would spend Saturday mornings watching Rage and Video hits, and dancing to Madonna and Michael, and, whilst we never actually managed to successfully do the moonwalk, we were pretty good if I do say so myself!

But continuing on with my story, seeing what Michael did, particularly in Thriller and Billie Jean (my favourite M.J songs of the time), made me want to do it too. Ballet wasn’t really my style, plus my feet were too big to dance with anyway, but gymnastics called to me. It encompassed the strength that my idol had radiated off the t.v. screen, but still remained elegant, like Madonna. It was everything I wanted, all rolled into one death-defying, totally legal sport.

Now, people from my year eight P.E class may remember how horrible I was in about 90% of the course. Pretty simply, I can’t do a handstand, therefore I suck. But the vault and the beam were my main apparatus. I loved the idea of being able to fly, and have always envisioned myself flying through the sky. And beam was just because I wanted to throw it in people’s faces that, although I seemed like the world’s biggest klutz, which I was by the way, I could do something better than them.

Michael inspired me to do something I would never have thought about doing. Whilst I did stop, and there was a pretty good reason for having done so, it was something I loved. I can honestly not remember eight times in my life when I was as happy as I was at gymnastics, excluding the unpleasantness that had occured.

The other moment was a very negative thing, the unpleasantness from gymnastics, and the reason for me refusing to go, which most definitely did not please mother dearest. A lot of people turn around and say ‘I didn’t like it’ so they stopped. That wasn’t my reason. I loved it. I loved the freedom and being able to fly through the air like a bird. I loved the cat-like balance that was needed on the balance beam. I even loved the falls, which reminded me how human I was. What I did not like, and which was painfully brought back in PE, was my coach. A twenty-something year old male, who seemed to have an obsession with putting his hands where they didn’t belong. After two months, I refused to go back, confusing everyone around me as they had all seen how much I enjoyed it. The final training session I went to had a Michael Jackson song reverberating in my head. A relatively new song, called Morphine. Being as accident-prone as I was, I was well aware of what morphine was, but didn’t so much understand the song. “Trust in me, Just in me. Put all your trust in me, You’re doin’ morphine.”

Now, the second thing. Changing my life. I have always tried to be the person people feel like they can talk to, but apparently, it has been less than satisfactory. So, starting today, Wednesday the 8th of July, I pledge to be a better person. And I will be going somewhere I dread to step foot into today. It’s something I have wanted to do for a few months, but have yet to do. I am not a church person. I have never been a huge church person. Catholic schools for half my life have instilled the fear of sin (just ask all of my ex’s…) but have never really encouraged me to be religious. But there are things to be thankful for, especially at this time. My family’s health, particularly my Grandad, and the health of all my loved ones, and guidance. If God can’t tell me what path to take, then who can?!

“I’m Starting With The Man In The Mirror. I’m Asking Him To Change His Ways. And No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer. If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make A Change.”