reaction to MJ's passing

Alright, so I suppose you have read 65536 reactions by now, but hear me out.

I grew up as a kid only on two things - the Carpenters and Michael Jackson. My family tried to feed me ABBA songs but they didn't quite click. Every week, I will just take the stage in our weekly family karaoke night and sing "Fernando" once to make them happy...

Can you hear the drums Fernandoooooo....

And I'd get something from 94 to 98. Mind you this was 6,7, or 8 years old. I had no interest in Fernando whatsoever. All I cared about back then was Yan Yans and Hello Pandas. That's all I wanted.

But my clearest memory of my childhood back in grandmas house were built with these: the Carpenters, an old boom box owned by my uncle (which now I realize was a fluke since it never left the house), and an old tape of "Dangerous" that was always right by the nightstand where I slept. Was never quite a fan back then, but the album would play and all I remembered was "Black or White," the first track. I would probably hear a bit of 'Remember the Time,' and then I would be out to play.

By the time I get back, I'm all sweaty and trying to seek attention from everybody else, "Heal the World" might be on; or perhaps "Gone Too Soon" to close the album. Or probably the song before that which I always liked but never really knew the title.

It was that vivid a memory.

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When I heard of MJ's passing the other day, I wasn't quite sure how to react. I would be a liar to say he was a big part of my childhood - the Carpenters were, and Karen passed away before I was born. For us in Generation Y, Michael Jackson was like the experience of going to school - he's always been there, but there were times we didn't quite like it, especially when we were young. And then there were times when it was so amazing you couldn't get enough of it.

Unfortunately, now that the ride is over, you feel empty inside. For 20 years, you have functioned, performed, got around as a student, and now the strange symbol shows up in between meaningful paragraphs. We are forced to "move on," whatever that means.

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I remember not being able to listen to MJ's music at times because people told me he was weird. (I tried to list a few things I could remember here but I took it out -- can't do it.) But I guess the biggest lesson I learned from staying in New York is that nothing is weird - they make you feel uncomfortable because they're different from you. They rub you the wrong way, they don't behave like you do. Weird is nothing but a ruse created by the person himself that points a finger at objects out of his comfort zone, avoiding others from seeing the anomalous things in our own life.

That's why I always loved self-deprecating jokes. The way we are wired, that's as honest as you can get with yourself while still having fun.

Michael Jackson wrote songs about love. There is nothing anomalous, weird, or outlandish about that. At the end of the day, he knew more about love than most people in this world. He understood that hate thrives because love is not in the midst of it. He understood that weird is the price you pay for putting love in the middle of things that would ruffle people's feathers.

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The afternoon he passed away, I was too busy with work that I almost did not catch it until I got home. And then I froze for a couple of minutes, whispered a soft prayer for his soul, and then went to bed. The next morning, the whole office was ringing with MJ songs being played in cubicles. This was in a multi-billion, Forbes 100, global company. For a while, I thought I was back in my chair in 1992, hearing Dangerous for the first time.

And that's the reality of it. We all like nostalgia, because it is our coping mechanism for our inability to adapt the old adage "don't take things for granted". It is our most sincere channel of outward affection, and it is painful because this wave of commitment, frankly, is hard to sustain.

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Don't worry, I will not end by mentioning "Gone too Soon," as you probably would have heard that a thousand times already. Yes, he was taken too early from us, but I really hope this wakes us up more than it brings us down. Michael's message was clear - love what you do, love people, love the world. It is pitiful because as a generation we choose to put love in a box and treat it only the way we choose.

Paul mentioned in 1Cor 13:13 that love is the greatest among faith, hope and love. Love is not just about a boy and a girl, not just about roses and not even just about friendship. Love is the reason we were created, the only key to unlock people from their bondages, the only source of joy in the darkest hour.

And so here I am taking my last heavy breaths, as nostalgia is slipping away and I struggle to pull it over. And my playlist kicks into the same MJ song from Dangerous that had a gospel tune to it - the song which I liked but never knew the title - the hidden soundtrack to my childhood.

The song is Will You be There, which perhaps I am the only one who never bothered to look up the title. Not while he was alive. And just as I yearn to appreciate him now that he's gone, I only remember the title to this song now, learn to appreciate the love behind his music now.

Michael is part of my childhood, and his passing, although surreal still, makes me sad because his message was so simple and we treated them as pop songs. We followed the charts, the records, the melody, but not quite the man behind the message.

I will miss Michael, and I pray rest for his soul.

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(Sidenote: This is going to be very blunt, but it's ok, nobody reads my blog nowadays anyway. There was somebody on FB whose status (whom most of you probably would know) said "so he's dead, get over it" and followed up by saying he doesn't really care. First, that was downright disrespectful, and you're lucky I wasn't there because I would have slapped you upside the head. Seriously. Also, I think that just shows how messed up we are as a generation, and I am truly ashamed of that. Shame on you.)

expired names...

This has to be blogged.

I'm not sure if anybody has noticed, but somewhere, perhaps in a metaphysical world, there exists a name graveyard. Let us brandish our swords of elitism - somewhere in the metaphysical, there exists a graveyard for names that Americans have just stopped using - expired names.

And as much as I love Asians for the whole notion of taking what's un-sexy and turning it into gold (e.g, manufacturing, outsourcing of jobs Americans can't fathom having, the "geek" look, neoprints, etc.), we cannot deny that we (Asian people, that is) have a penchant for going into the aforementioned graveyard to dig up names for our children.

COME ON! IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE TO PAY MONEY TO GIVE YOUR KID A GOOD NAME!

So, I will be the proverbial guinea pig. Albert is defined as "bright and noble," at least in the big book of baby names or something. Very vague, very easy to slap on to anything. Come to think of it, I could blame my name if I find myself shelving books at Barnes and Noble someday. But who calls their kids Albert nowadays? It's as if every single Albert I meet nowadays are only in 3 forms: grandfathers, historical figures, and... fellow Asians.

I have yet to meet a fellow Albert who rocks my socks off. Yet to meet an Albert who makes the girls weak in the knees, yet to meet an Albert who is excited to be an Albert. Don't get me wrong, I owe my name a great deal - imagine if I changed my name, all these certificates and contracts would be useless! I'm just saying sometimes it's fun to whip on the "Gerard" costume from time to time.

Ah, but it's spelled with one "r". Another one from the grave.

Also located in the name graveyard: Victor (even higher than Albert on the list), Henry, Frank, Edwin, and... maybe Vicky? which brings me to another point:

The concept seems to work only on males. Girls' names are not as maligned as the guys'. Fine, so Vicky might have fallen into one of these lists, but I heard rumblings of a comeback for Vicky. It's like call center jobs -- Americans won't think of doing them, until they see 25-year old Albert next door earning an honest paycheck picking up phones for Pfizer. Now, unemployment's rampant, so they want in on call center jobs as well.

Another point with gender disparity: Jordan is such a horrible guys' name now. For every kid named Jordan nowadays, there is a frustrated Asian father who never grew past 5'10 and never got to touch the rim of the basket. Thus, they transfer their hopes and dreams to their male offspring who, of course, can only beat Jordan in a rice-eating competition. HOWEVER, Jordan is making the rounds as a trendy female name now, and it's faring pretty well.

So this is my public service announcement to all of you, my friends. In the next 5 to 10 years, you WILL be part of the ritualistic process of naming a child. 50% of you, roughly, will be naming a baby boy. Here are some advice:

1.) IF you're thinking of using the -son suffix, attach it to your name, wear a tag with that name on yourself, HELVETICA SIZE 58, and walk around the plaza with an undeserved sense of pride. Trust me, you will go home and rethink your decision, and maybe thank me someday. As much as Albert is not really the sexiest name, It would be 50 times more painful to be called Albertson.

2.) No sports names, please. If Kobe becomes the new Jordan, then I don't want to be a part of it. Trust me, somewhere in this world there exists an Asian kid named Tiger, or Roger, or even Lebron just because of a sports-crazed beer-bellied father who thought the world would need another Lebron.

3.) Use evergreen names. Yes, there also exists a list of names that are perpetually safe for consumption. For some reason, names from the Bible are timeless. So calling your kid Daniel or Joshua won't win a sexy award, but they won't have tomatoes thrown at them either. Of course, we are all adults, and we should know where to draw the line. A kid would be stressed to explain "Jehoshaphat" or "Nebuchadnezzar" at their next show and tell.

Let this be my legacy to the world. I want to hear your thoughts.