Debut.

Hello.

I'm starting my blog a little earlier than expected. I wanted to wait until I was out on on my own. I'm house hunting. I'm not even sure if I can afford it, but I'm 24 and I need this. I at least need that teeny sense of independence...

I'm starting the blog early because I need to. I need to write this down before I forget what I'm feeling right now. For some reason, I don't want to forget this feeling.

On June 25th of this year, 2009, Michael Jackson died. Until that date, I was not an avid fan of his music. I just enjoyed it. I enjoyed listening to his early tunes, his hits, and his ballads to be heard around the world about poverty. I watched with the world as he went to trial, in his pajamas, in 2004 and will admit I rolled my eyes when he was found not guilty on all charges. After that day, I didn't hear anything from him or by him, and I didn't really care.

When news broke of his death, I told my friends and family. Texted, Tweeted, Facebooked, etc. I wasn't overwhelmed with emotion though. To me, it was just another tragic death that came way too early.

The night before his memorial, MSNBC ran an encore presentation of ABC's special "Living with Michael Jackson" that originally aired in 2003. I watched so intently and gained a new respect for Michael Jackson. He cried as he told Martin Bashir, the interviewer, about how he was beaten and often thrown against the wall by his father if he did the steps to a dance wrong. He was ten years old at the time. I almost cried along with him.

He was adamant about how false the accusations against him were regarding child molestation and abuse. He explained what was wrong with the world. The disappearance of bonding. Parents don't hug their kids anymore. He felt that the reason the tragedy at Columbine High School happened was because of a missing bond between the suspects and their parents.

Well, who knows if it's true.

But the emotion I expressed the next day, during his memorial at the Staples Center on July 7th, was true. I cannot fathom what Michael Jackson had to go through every day of his life. I don't even want to try to. But he definitely looked past the negative and pushed on - changing the world in any way he could. He visited veterans in hospitals, he befriended Ryan White and wrote a song for him when he died, he traveled the world wanting to make a difference.

During the memorial, I bawled when "We Are the World" was sung and people in London, Harlem and anywhere else you can imagine were singing in unison, as Michael Jackson's three young children joined in. Then I looked at his casket and couldn't believe he was in it. How could someone with so much passion for changing the world die so young? So early?

I'm not claiming to know anything about Michael Jackson's daily life or thoughts, where his heart was when he died, or where exactly he is spending eternity. He wasn't perfect, but neither am I. And neither are you. But for some reason, I want to...I need to believe that God is telling Michael Jackson, as He points to me, "That woman is going to change the world because of you."

I fully plan to.

Maybe not now. Maybe not in a year. But I have ideas in my head that will at least change the way people in the United States look at others, care for others, help others, and love others the way they don't now.

Stay tuned.

Because I'm starting with the woman in the mirror.