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. During Beatlemania, 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?
