Pop star, Justin Bieber arrives with sushi and Miso soup at Mediaworks studios in Ponosnby. Photo / Nick Reed
Pop star, Justin Bieber arrives with sushi and Miso soup at Mediaworks studios in Ponosnby. Photo / Nick Reed
Opinion
I have had an epiphany. I've grown up. I've sat and watched and thought about things and actually, normal life ain't so bad.
Sucks to be Justin Bieber, though. Did you see him around town? Many of those who caught a glimpse were reduced to desperate, teary, hormonal wrecks. DuringBeatlemania, the odd fainting schoolgirl was about as bad as the crowds would get. But Bieber apparently invokes convulsing, for goodness sake.
On paper, the guy's life looks fantastic. The cash, the girls, the privilege. The travel and the famous friends. Google reckons that at 21 he's worth almost $300 million.
He can fly the world in private jets and take his pick of luxury cars. Twenty-one-year-old me drove a wobbling '89 Honda City and earned $320 a week.
But not a sliver of my person envies Bieber's life or that of any other megastar. Can you imagine how awful it would be to have hordes of manic crowds screaming at you and chasing you, convulsing in your presence?
Strangers are great in small doses. But when they're running at you and snatching at you and weeping outside your hotel room, relative anonymity isn't actually such a bad gig.
I feel sorry for Bieber.
People give him a hard time, but if I had to endure what that guy endures I'd do a whole lot worse than mouth off to paparazzi.
I'd break down. I'd crumble.
I'd make Charlie Sheen look like a responsible option for babysitting the kids.
It says something of human nature that most people would probably agree. Most of us appreciate a bit of peace and quiet and not being hounded in the street. But the nuts and bolts of celebrity are a curse to which so many still absurdly aspire.
The other day, Biebs published a sensitively worded video asking his fans for a little bit of space. A little bit less screaming.
