Thanks for the memories, Michael Jackson

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Everyone's doing what I'm doing right now. Talking, Twittering, blogging, Facebooking about the death of Michael Jackson. My cynical self is telling me to stop already. To not be one of those wailing, hyperventilating King of Pop fans. I wasn't one when he was alive, and I'm not one now. But part of me — OK, most of me — can't help but be saddened by the loss of this person, this icon, this musical genius and master entertainer. Is it because I've listened to his music for as long as I can remember, and he's just sort of always been there, and now he's not? Is it because this is a sad end to a sad life story? Is it simply because the loss of life is sad? Honestly, I don't know why I should be so affected by this. I didn't know him. He didn't know me. But still, he was a part of my life. That sounds lame. Even to me. But cursed pride aside, I'm admitting that Michael Jackson was a part of my life. And now he's out of my life (sorry, I couldn't resist), and it's going to take some getting used to.

Every Michael Jackson song I know is tied to a memory. Scrolling through the music on my iPod, two things strike me: 1. No other artist appears on my iPod as frequently as Michael Jackson. And  2. Every one of his song titles triggers a memory. Every single one.

My life as told through the Michael Jackson singles on my iPod:

1. "Don't Stop Til You get Enough"
I'm a rebellious teenager in Germany. Me and my parents don't agree on a whole lot. But Dad and I agree that "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough" is the jam. Finding out that Dad digs Michael Jackson — even if it was the old stuff —  is huge for me. When I left for college, we had serious negotiations about who would keep the MJ CDs. I left them for Dad.

2. "Billie Jean"
I'm a kid who thinks she can dance (I couldn't), and Michael Jackson in the "Billie Jean" music video is my teacher. I watch it any chance I get, and it prompts me to beg my parents to enroll me in jazz dance classes. They do, and I quit after a few lessons and concede that Michael Jackson is untouchable.

3. "Beat It"
My childhood friend Bobby loves Michael even more than I do. One of the biggest arguments we ever have is about which one of us sings the "Beat It" lyrics correctly. Turns out, we were both wrong.

4. "Thriller"
I'm not allowed to listen to "Thriller" because it's a Halloween-y song, and my Christian parents don't celebrate Halloween. But on the airplane from Honolulu to Manila, I plug in my complimentary headphones, turn the dial to the pre-recorded pop music station and finally get my chance to listen to "Thriller." Over and over and over again until we land in the Philippines. I felt like I had won some secret pop music war. My parents never asked what I was listening to, and I never told.

5. "Smooth Criminal"
I'm babysitting. It's late. The music video for "Smooth Criminal" comes on, and I get a little freaked out. Annie? Annie, are you OK? Who's Annie? And why isn't she OK? And I'm alone at night in a house with two kids, and I'm kind of scared of this smooth criminal. It isn't until I'm in college that I really listen to the song and understand it. But it's still scary.

6. "The Way You Make me Feel"
We're travelling for my parents' job again. I'm homesick. So homesick for anything familiar, and so I listen to "The Way You Make Me Feel" over and over again for about 90 minutes. I just sing and sing and sing — and dance — and sing and sing until I don't feel like crying anymore. It worked. I still listen to "The Way You Make Me Feel" when I feel junk. I've listened to it four times today.

7. "The Man in the Mirror"
A fellow rebellious kid buys the cassette single of "Man in the Mirror," and admits to me that he thinks it might help him change his life. I just talked to him on Facebook last week, and he said he knows for sure that it changed his life. It didn't do that for me, but I love the song.

8. "Black or White"
I'm driving with my parents from Bavaria in Southern Germany to Hamburg in the north. It's a long trip, and the folks and I can't agree on music. I put in Michael Jackson's "Dangerous" because Dad and I are fans. But Mom can't get over the fact that Jackson's been accused of child molestation (plus, she doesn't get the whole crotch-grabbing thing). I put on "Black or White" and try to convince her that he's not bad, he's just different. Just like the song says. She's not convinced (and neither am I, but never mind), but she concedes that the song is just good driving music. By the time we got to Hamburg, she was sold on the whole "Dangerous" album and it became a family favorite.

9. "Rock With You"
"Rock With You" was the first song on the first mixtape I ever made for a boy. I thought it really was about dancing. He thought I was awesome. Live and learn, right?

10. "The Girl is Mine"
I always liked this song. But I made the mistake of saying it out loud before I had the self-assurance to stand by my decision to like it, and on a road trip through Greece I decided that in the future, I wouldn't be so candid about my taste in music, lest I be ridiculed. I was 16.  But guess what? I LOVE it. Bring on the ridicule because I'm a lover not a fighter.