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You are my sweetheart, gentle and blue...
15 October 2009 @ 03:21 pm
Yes I'm terrified of posting my ~~art cause I wasnt professionally trained or anything so go easy on me. I was inspired by some court room pics from mjjpictures.com (under the invincible era). I drew his hair longer cause my pencil just kept going south (unf yeah bitches!) Thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
violetfinchfor providing me with super awesome pencils and for telling me to post this.
Here we go.
( Only seven inches in and you're there. You know you want it. )
violetfinchfor providing me with super awesome pencils and for telling me to post this.Here we go.
( Only seven inches in and you're there. You know you want it. )
ecstatic27 September 2009 @ 08:33 pm
nostalgic14 September 2009 @ 02:57 pm
In may 1992 I went to visit my grandma in Bosnia. I'm Croatian and lived on an island called Korcula at the time. But when I went to Bosnia to see my grandma in a town called Tuzla - the war broke out. We tried to escape and managed to make it to Sarajevo but we couldn't get out of there for 3 years. I was seven years old when the war broke out. My childhood was shattered, I had no one there who was my age. The sounds of grenades and sirens were the norm and I was unfamiliar with another reality. Anything that happened before the war seemed like a very blurry dream.
About 6 months into the war, the United Nations officers who were parked outside the building we were at started talking to me. My mum was teaching me english since I was 4 so I knew quite a bit because she gave me some children's books that were in english and I was determined to know them by heart! So for a while the only childhood friends I had were these awesome guys (originally from Bronx/Queens!). I would teach them Bosnian. In exchange they'd correct my accent or help me with a word. One day, one of these guys was listening to music (he had headphones on). I was so fascinated by it. He let me listen to it. I loved it so much. I asked him if I could listen to it for a few minutes while I fall asleep. I think for the first time in months I slept through the entire night. I woke up in the morning with a note next to me that said:"Keep it" (I still have that note in one of my journals!) and MJ's "Bad" and "Thriller" cassettes. For the next two years that was my jam. I had no idea who Michael Jackson was, but I knew that his music cheered me up and that he silenced all the noise from outside ad infinitum. To this day when something upsets me, his music is my only comfort. A security blanket.
Usually when we received food in boxes, it was from the UN mostly. But every now and then (I think twice if I remember correctly?) we received something with the label "heal the world". Whenever THOSE boxes came, I knew it wasn't just bad wheat and rice. HTW always included blankets and toys as well as food and medical supplies. I still have the blanket I got in one of those boxes.
In 1995, we managed to escape to Germany. We were struggling refugees. It was just my mum and I. I learned the language quickly but she struggled for at least a year. She worked hard to give me a good and comfortable life. Every couple of months she'd buy me something MJ related (or Power Rangers - another obsession at the time). On my birthday in 1997, she gave me two MJ tickets (third row) to the June 15th show. My birthday is in january so the pain and torture of waiting for that long was KILLING me but it was so worth it. So on June 15th, 1997 my mum and I headed to Gelsenkirchen (we lived in Essen which is just a few km's away from Gelsenkirchen) to see Michael Jackson live. Now that was overwhelming. And surreal. I was just one of many in the crowd who he inspired and influenced, I'm sure. But I felt like I was the only one there and to this day I see that whole experience as this bizarre, ridiculous, surreal event in my life.
When the concert was done, my crazy hippie mother dragged me to some backdoor where people were hoping to catch a glimpse of MJ. He walked out and the crowd went WILD. He was right in front of us and signed the CD my mum was holding. I was beyond shy and hid kind of behind her but I did get a smile, a wink and he touched my hair. My mum also claims that he said "hey cutie" but I didn't hear that myself :(
I wish he didn't leave us this soon. But it's only natural that the Best go first. I learned that as a child. I'm not anywhere near the point of being even slightly over it. It hurts to even think about it. But when I really do think about it, it almost seems natural that he did leave us. He *was* Peter Pan. I'll miss him so much and still can't understand or comprehend a world without Michael Jackson in it. But he will forever live in my heart. He will never be forgotten.
I am also not the only one with this story. I contacted a few people who commented on a youtube video where it was reported that MJ's Heal The World Foundation was shipping out boxes full of stuff to Sarajevo. And their story is eerily similar - many of them were refugees as well, many of them saw him live in the country they escaped to as well, and many many of them will never ever forget what he did for us when we were children. During a time when we barely had a chance to have a childhood, he gave us one. A meaningful one.
RIP.
Annie
About 6 months into the war, the United Nations officers who were parked outside the building we were at started talking to me. My mum was teaching me english since I was 4 so I knew quite a bit because she gave me some children's books that were in english and I was determined to know them by heart! So for a while the only childhood friends I had were these awesome guys (originally from Bronx/Queens!). I would teach them Bosnian. In exchange they'd correct my accent or help me with a word. One day, one of these guys was listening to music (he had headphones on). I was so fascinated by it. He let me listen to it. I loved it so much. I asked him if I could listen to it for a few minutes while I fall asleep. I think for the first time in months I slept through the entire night. I woke up in the morning with a note next to me that said:"Keep it" (I still have that note in one of my journals!) and MJ's "Bad" and "Thriller" cassettes. For the next two years that was my jam. I had no idea who Michael Jackson was, but I knew that his music cheered me up and that he silenced all the noise from outside ad infinitum. To this day when something upsets me, his music is my only comfort. A security blanket.
Usually when we received food in boxes, it was from the UN mostly. But every now and then (I think twice if I remember correctly?) we received something with the label "heal the world". Whenever THOSE boxes came, I knew it wasn't just bad wheat and rice. HTW always included blankets and toys as well as food and medical supplies. I still have the blanket I got in one of those boxes.
In 1995, we managed to escape to Germany. We were struggling refugees. It was just my mum and I. I learned the language quickly but she struggled for at least a year. She worked hard to give me a good and comfortable life. Every couple of months she'd buy me something MJ related (or Power Rangers - another obsession at the time). On my birthday in 1997, she gave me two MJ tickets (third row) to the June 15th show. My birthday is in january so the pain and torture of waiting for that long was KILLING me but it was so worth it. So on June 15th, 1997 my mum and I headed to Gelsenkirchen (we lived in Essen which is just a few km's away from Gelsenkirchen) to see Michael Jackson live. Now that was overwhelming. And surreal. I was just one of many in the crowd who he inspired and influenced, I'm sure. But I felt like I was the only one there and to this day I see that whole experience as this bizarre, ridiculous, surreal event in my life.
When the concert was done, my crazy hippie mother dragged me to some backdoor where people were hoping to catch a glimpse of MJ. He walked out and the crowd went WILD. He was right in front of us and signed the CD my mum was holding. I was beyond shy and hid kind of behind her but I did get a smile, a wink and he touched my hair. My mum also claims that he said "hey cutie" but I didn't hear that myself :(
I wish he didn't leave us this soon. But it's only natural that the Best go first. I learned that as a child. I'm not anywhere near the point of being even slightly over it. It hurts to even think about it. But when I really do think about it, it almost seems natural that he did leave us. He *was* Peter Pan. I'll miss him so much and still can't understand or comprehend a world without Michael Jackson in it. But he will forever live in my heart. He will never be forgotten.
I am also not the only one with this story. I contacted a few people who commented on a youtube video where it was reported that MJ's Heal The World Foundation was shipping out boxes full of stuff to Sarajevo. And their story is eerily similar - many of them were refugees as well, many of them saw him live in the country they escaped to as well, and many many of them will never ever forget what he did for us when we were children. During a time when we barely had a chance to have a childhood, he gave us one. A meaningful one.
RIP.
Annie