Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Although the decision came in a couple days ago, I've been debating whether I wanted to say anything about the Michael Jackson verdict.

Considering I wrote a lot on earlier entries about the Jackson family, I thought it might be worth weighing in.

Based on the arguments that appear to have been presented in court, I think that the jury came to the right decision. I think there was clearly enough reasonable doubt that they should not have convicted Michael Jackson.

Reportedly, a representative of the Jackson family is shopping around a six-episode reality show about the family, following them as they coped with Michael's trial. I think that's the last thing anyone wants to see right now. If they believe it will evoke empathy for the family by showing their emotions as they dealt with this strange and sad turn of events, I think that's misguided. Through their public statements and their appearances at the trial, it's already clear that the family is supportive of Michael and that the trial has been hard on them.

It would be a mistake to put something on the air that would only make it more difficult for him to continue his career. The trial has decimated his public image, no doubt, but the way to counteract that is not to continue talking about it.

The best thing for him to do right now is to take some time and get his house in order. He needs to address his physical and emotional distress through therapy and healing. He needs to restructure his financial dealings to disentangle his financial mess. He needs to make serious changes in his life before throwing himself back into the media maelstrom.

As someone who was once a huge Michael Jackson fan, I can honestly say I hope he does embark on a new path. I truly hope he finds strength within himself to show the world the power one person can have to make the change.

To the birds in my neighborhood, I'm apparently a walking target. This is evidenced by the fact that twice in the past couple of months, I got whitewashed by an avian culprit. Both times, by the time I noticed, the bird in question had flown the coop. Both times, I got hit at about the same block, on the same side. I don't know if it's the same bird or whether it has something to do with flight patterns.

Of course, whether I'm a target or not kind of depends on whether birds have the ability to control such things, and if they do, whether they bother. Perhaps I should begin wearing the American flag so as to prevent this from happening. (For those who don't get the reference, an episode of Mr. Show asserts that the American flag is constructed in such a way as to make it impossible for people to poop on it.)

Yesterday, on Yahoo! Classifieds, I listed the queen-sized box spring that's been sitting on our porch since the move. Hopefully, we'll find a buyer who's willing to haul it away. Turns out there's all kinds of places that will buy used furniture but few of them will pick it up. I discovered yesterday, though, that the Salvation Army will pick up donations, so if this option fails, we'll consider that route.

Now that school's out, the neighborhood kids are hanging out on their front lawns, finding ways to occupy themselves. A lot of them put on bathing suits and chase each other with hoses or enjoy a kiddie pool. Two girls, presumably sisters, have a seemingly endless supply of those snappers that you can throw on the ground and make a noise.

I barely remember what it felt like to have the entire summer off; it's been so long since I did, even if it still meant working a part-time job or, in high school, attending summer band camp. I do remember the first year I had a summer job and realized I wouldn't get summers off anymore, how unfair that seemed. But since then, I've gotten used to it, and it doesn't phase me.

Speaking of jobs, I dreamt last night that I'd been hired back as a temporary worker at the museum where I worked when I first moved to Philadelphia. Some people talk about Sick Building Syndrome. I would say this place had Sick Office Syndrome, because it had the most unhealthy office politics imaginable, mainly due to the Chairman, who lorded over everyone and was generally difficult to work with.

Frankly, I thought I was done with those dreams, because the last time I dreamt about the museum, I didn't work there any more. I had quit, and I was only back for a visit with my brother for a special fundraising event. So I don't know what the dream meant, except that maybe lately I've been feeling overwhelmed by all the things I believe I have to do. In addition to my sister's wedding, coming up in two weeks, I've been very busy with work and am trying to organizing our new place. Then of course, there's Wild Violet, which will default to another double issue like last year, when the web designer was getting married. I simply couldn't get the spring issue out while it was... er, still spring.

This is the same way I used to feel at the museum, with a desk piled high with work and the Chairman calling me into his office to assign new complicated projects, for which he would either change the rules partway through or change his mind and decide they didn't need to be done after all.

Well, the universe wanted to get me off a self-pitying track, it seems. I just ran into a postal worker while walking my dog, one of the rare few who likes dogs. When he saw Una sitting at the curb, waiting patiently to cross the street with me, he approached and began petting her, even gave her a Milk Bone. It was too big to eat all at once, so I thanked him and pocketed it. And now she's following me home, watching me with a big grin on her face, waiting for her treat.

Other writings by Alyce about Michael Jackson:

My First Celebrity Crush
The Tyranny of Photography (Wild Violet Vol. I Issue 1)
( Feb. 7, 2003) Michael Jackson's Mask
(Feb. 10, 2003) Lifting the Mask
(Feb. 11, 2003) - Would Be Pundit
( Feb. 19, 2003) - MJ Fascination
(Feb. 22, 2003) - Michael Gets His Say
(March 5, 2003) - Bye-Bye Black Sheep
(November 19, 2003) - Cable News Junkie

Copyright 2005 by Alyce Wilson

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