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That was a little bit weird.
Jun. 26th, 2009 08:48 amI was the one who broke the news to my parents about Michael Jackson.
I figured they knew already, because we were in the car on the way to my brother's comedy show and it was a little after seven, so I figured they had to have watched the news before they left, but I said, "Oh, you heard Michael Jackson died, right?" And they were both like, "No way! Are you serious?" and flipped over to CNN. (Well, that was before my dad decided to hit every news station and got three in a row playing "Thriller", one in French that I'm pretty sure was talking about fish instead, and the BBC, because hearing news in a British accent is always better.)
It's like I told my brother. I'm shocked by his passing, because I know he was a medical trainwreck but it seemed like he'd be one of those medical trainwrecks who'd live into their nineties. And it scares me, because my mom's the same age as him and she's not in any great shape either, although the change in diet's helped. I told my brother that and he says he freaked out the other day because she was making out her will in the kitchen. And then I have all these nightmares where we're all sitting around worrying about my mom and my dad just drops dead one day.
Half of it is that regardless of the child abuse accusations and all the weirdness, the guy was a legend when I was a kid. I had the Thriller album on tape AND on CD when my parents finally got me my own stereo. And yet at the same time, the guy was only 50. My mom's dad wasn't that much older when he died.
Urgh. Between that and Farrah Fawcett (who I was almost glad to see finally go, the poor woman, watching her suffer in the media was heartwrenching), yesterday was kinda awful.
*
I had a sequel to a dream last night. I'm not even kidding.
See, I had this dream a while back that stuck with me for some reason, where I tried to get into college again but they said I had to make up some high school courses or something -- silly, since I graduated pretty high in my class -- so I went back to high school. And I didn't like a couple of my classes -- I distinctly remember one being math, which I understand skipping because I hate math, but I think another was history and I love history -- so I just stopped going. Like, full stop. Didn't drop out, didn't tell my teachers, just ... didn't go. And that was the dream.
Well, last night, I dreamed that I had finally gotten caught for skipping those classes, and they called me into the office, which was huge and had a lot of people in it for our relatively small local school. And they were all demanding to know why I'd been skipping for months at that point, and I was tearily explaining that I passed these courses already and I was depressed that I had to come back and do them again, and the teachers were all like, "Oh, boo fucking who. Cry yourself a river, you big whiner." That might have been a direct quote, but that was definitely the attitude of it. And I spent the rest of the dream trying to prove to them that I knew the work and that taking the class over again was idiotic and showing them I was actually better at math than they thought I was.
Also, as always, I couldn't find my locker. I can NEVER find my locker in dreams about high school. I don't know why.
For a sequel, there were not nearly enough pointless explosions and pop-star cameos for my liking.
*
EDIT: According to this, Michael Jackson left his share of the Beatles catalog rights to Sir Paul McCartney. If it's true, and it doesn't get dicked over thanks to MJ being a half a BILLION dollars in debt, that's awesome.
I figured they knew already, because we were in the car on the way to my brother's comedy show and it was a little after seven, so I figured they had to have watched the news before they left, but I said, "Oh, you heard Michael Jackson died, right?" And they were both like, "No way! Are you serious?" and flipped over to CNN. (Well, that was before my dad decided to hit every news station and got three in a row playing "Thriller", one in French that I'm pretty sure was talking about fish instead, and the BBC, because hearing news in a British accent is always better.)
It's like I told my brother. I'm shocked by his passing, because I know he was a medical trainwreck but it seemed like he'd be one of those medical trainwrecks who'd live into their nineties. And it scares me, because my mom's the same age as him and she's not in any great shape either, although the change in diet's helped. I told my brother that and he says he freaked out the other day because she was making out her will in the kitchen. And then I have all these nightmares where we're all sitting around worrying about my mom and my dad just drops dead one day.
Half of it is that regardless of the child abuse accusations and all the weirdness, the guy was a legend when I was a kid. I had the Thriller album on tape AND on CD when my parents finally got me my own stereo. And yet at the same time, the guy was only 50. My mom's dad wasn't that much older when he died.
Urgh. Between that and Farrah Fawcett (who I was almost glad to see finally go, the poor woman, watching her suffer in the media was heartwrenching), yesterday was kinda awful.
*
I had a sequel to a dream last night. I'm not even kidding.
See, I had this dream a while back that stuck with me for some reason, where I tried to get into college again but they said I had to make up some high school courses or something -- silly, since I graduated pretty high in my class -- so I went back to high school. And I didn't like a couple of my classes -- I distinctly remember one being math, which I understand skipping because I hate math, but I think another was history and I love history -- so I just stopped going. Like, full stop. Didn't drop out, didn't tell my teachers, just ... didn't go. And that was the dream.
Well, last night, I dreamed that I had finally gotten caught for skipping those classes, and they called me into the office, which was huge and had a lot of people in it for our relatively small local school. And they were all demanding to know why I'd been skipping for months at that point, and I was tearily explaining that I passed these courses already and I was depressed that I had to come back and do them again, and the teachers were all like, "Oh, boo fucking who. Cry yourself a river, you big whiner." That might have been a direct quote, but that was definitely the attitude of it. And I spent the rest of the dream trying to prove to them that I knew the work and that taking the class over again was idiotic and showing them I was actually better at math than they thought I was.
Also, as always, I couldn't find my locker. I can NEVER find my locker in dreams about high school. I don't know why.
For a sequel, there were not nearly enough pointless explosions and pop-star cameos for my liking.
*
EDIT: According to this, Michael Jackson left his share of the Beatles catalog rights to Sir Paul McCartney. If it's true, and it doesn't get dicked over thanks to MJ being a half a BILLION dollars in debt, that's awesome.
