it's the little things

Today while travelling to grab some lunch I passed by a gentleman walking while singing and playing a ukulele.

Because that is something I'm sure everyone sees all the time.

This city constantly sup rises and delights me to this day. Not that living here nine years is forever, but still.

My god, nine years and I'm still working for the man. Really, I've got to do something about that. Not that it isn't on my radar, I've been using the Lululemon Goal Site to keep track of where I go next.

Of course first on the list is to do a handstand without a wall. So we'll see how that whole non-corporate life thing measures up...

so sad

Yes he was reclusive, eccentric, and clouded in mystery. But all the same I find myself greatly saddened by the untimely death of Michael Jackson.

Like many of you I have been glued to my TV for the past several hours, shocked by his death. I don't know why. Maybe because in spite of all his oddities his gifts of music and dance have permeated our culture to such a point that we can't imagine the world without him.

In memoriam a re post of my brush with his greatness back in early 2001. R.I.P Michael Jackson.

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I got to meet Michael Jackson once. I spent two hours with him, as a matter of fact. As his waitress.

Fresh off the metaphorical boat to NYC, I was working two jobs, publishing assistant by day and server at a swanky restaurant by night. The wait staff had a mix of experience, newbies like me who had been on the island for five months, and a score of actors who had been slinging drinks in between gigs for years. Imagine my surprise when I go into work and found out that I was to be the lucky person to wait on MJ and his production crew. They were in town to record his last album.

They were late; they had to lose the paparazzi on the way to the restaurant. He came in, his foot in a cast and wearing the facemask. Once in the banquet room the mask came off and the party of six relaxed a bit.

Michael Jackson was very pleasant, polite, and subdued. He ordered vegetable broth and orange soda. The rest of his party ate and drank like kings - on his dime. They whole meal they pandered for his attention, trying to engage him in conversation. I have to admit, he did his best to comply.

There was definitely something off about him. It was like there was a heavy fog surrounding him, emitting this weird "please, just let me be" vibe. You could sense that he was so tired of always having to give something to everyone. Really, every single person who met him wanted to be acknowledged, noticed, touched. I realized the greatest service I could give to him was to let him alone as much as possible.

I felt profoundly sorry for him. You could just tell that fame had scarred him so deeply there was probably no recourse. He would have to be completely un-famous for at least twenty years to even regain a semblance of normality. This man did not just give the world music, dance, and culture. He gave the world his life and his sanity. Was it worth it?