Tuesday night I watched the Michael Jackson documentary This Is It.   For two hours I got to witness the King of Pop do his thang, sing, dance, and rehearse for, what would have been, his return to the stage after a decade.

Lemme rewind.   As a little girl I watched MTV wishing and hoping and praying that I could be Tatiana Thumbtzen in the “The Way You Make Me Feel” video.  I hid under the covers with my brother as “Thriller” became one of the scariest things I’d seen in my entire live.  I put on socks and tried to moonwalk accross the floor the first day our hardwood floors were installed.  I memorized all the moves to “Beat It” and all the words to all my favorites… even the non-words like “a-cha-oo” and shit, i had it down pat!  

Real talk, Michael Jackson is the reason I fell in love with music.  period.  

He was my first celebrity crush — err, obsession.   And even tho I never wanted to be with him, I wanted to be with him .. in his presence and all his musical geniuses.   He was my music god, and my record player was my religion.  

But as I grew older, he grew whiter and weirder.  My obsession with the man faded, but my love for his music only grew stronger as I started exploring hip-hop.  Cuz even after realizing that hip hop saved my life, aint nothin moves my soul or body faster than an MJ track.. 

I sat in the theater on Tuesday with my friends, wearing my gloves n my leather jacket prepared to cry my eyes out.   And after watching the opening scene where his dancers got to share just how much he inspired them, I almost did.   And then all of a sudden, like magic, I was a little girl again.  

I wished with all my might I could have been one of the principal dancers, or the bad ass blonde guitar player, or the backup singer with the afro and asian eyes.   We were singing along, clapping, and dancing in our seats and at the start of every song, you heard someone say “Thats my shiiiiittt!”    Most of the time it was me, but thats beside the point. 

And even tho he was wearing a blazer over his pajamas, and sequin pants, and he STILL aint never wear pants that go past his ankle,  IT NEVER MATTERED.  Cuz he sang that shit better than I’ve ever heard it, and he danced like it was the first time I’ve ever seen his moves. 

For those two hours, I was LIFTED.  I left the theaters inspired by his legacy.   

And here I sit, with my MJ inspired outfit, listenin to “Off The Wall,” tellin u to get up, get out, and get some tickets.   Two weeks aint enough……  

Like Madonna said,  LONG LIVE THE KING.