The Simplified Meaning of Life

All humans do is love each other and fuck each other up.

It’s just in our nature, and we’re all guilty of both. Loving someone is good until it’s bad. When it gets to that point, whether you want it to or not, you go on the second route. We go through relationships, we meet people who make it all better and then make it all worse. Sometimes it feels like a repetitive cycle, but it’s growth. And when you really sit down and think about it, it’s all we’re here for.

Love is beautiful. It’s meant to be shared and used in all it’s glory. Sometimes we think we know what it is, and then it changes. Sometimes we try to fake it. Sometimes it’s so real there’s nothing out there that could make you feel otherwise.

The point is that it’s necessary. If you want to understand the truth about any of this, you need to embrace it. It doesn’t always need to end on a bad note,  it can just be a progression of life. And yet, we’d all be liars if we said we haven’t been hurt before. As you go on, you learn to hurt others less and stop letting yourself be hurt in return.

I love love. I love being in love. But in the past few years I’ve found a love that trumps most of my other experiences. It’s a love that is genuine beyond all of my other ideas of it.

I found the realest love within my friends. I’ve always felt unconditional love with my family, but it’s different when you choose your tribe.

I stay surrounded by people, because people give me all the life I need. I have made connections that have taught me more about myself than anything else ever has. I’ve felt a rare vulnerability that has shown me how to be real. And even though most of those connections are across the nation from me right now, it doesn’t change anything.

I’m not showing off. I mean, maybe I am. But it’s for no reason other than being full of gratitude. Friendship is the most indispensable gift we have to give each other, even when it involves romance. Knowing you have people looking out for you who have seen you at your worst, your best, your medium, and every moment in between is almost serene.

I may be speaking a little too soon, but the meaning of life to me is all in the bonds we make. The things we share, the moments we have. I’ve always been lucky to find good people, but I never fully understood how blessed we are until recently.

Why do people still have drama? Love each other more. I don’t mean to sound preachy, but goddamn it just do it. Stop fighting. Stop tearing each other down. Stop being petty. Stop holding grudges. Stop being mad. It’s not worth it. It never has been.

Yeah, sometimes people come and go, but you know when it’s meant to be for life. Make those connections. Make them last and keep them real. Don’t put on a face for each other. Don’t let bullshit get in the way. You can overcome anything with the right people on your team.

Express gratitude. Be genuine. Look out for each other and embrace how lucky you are. Life is as fantastic as you let it be.

I’m just thankful for how beautiful it’s been so far. In fact, I’m so thankful I’m cheesy as fuck lately. I can’t really help it, it’s overcome me.

I’ll be snarky some other day.

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How to Human

Something hit me 5 minutes ago. You know when you’re just going about your day and then, suddenly, in an instant you’re completely aware of your breathing, and who you are and all the particles you’re made up of and how fickle life is? It’s kind of an amazing feeling.

I honestly kind of just ended up here on a whim and somehow managed to pull off some kind of existence that I never fully planned out or expected. I decided that if I was going to live, I was going to follow my dreams. What my dreams were exactly I had no clue of originally, I just knew I’d get there if I kept following my instinct. This didn’t happen because I read The Secret or listened to Oprah when she told me to discover my truth, this happened when I realized everything I had learned about life up until that point was mostly bullshit.

Saying the words “I’m following my dreams” kind of makes me want to puke, but it’s true. I use the word dream to define the entire process of my life, not just the end point. Because at the moment I’m setting myself up for a path of external and internal struggle that I will never fully grasp until I’m right in the thick of it. But for now it’s chill, the calm before the storm. Which will, hopefully, be followed by a rainbow. So I’ve decided to give some life advice. Not because I’m even mildly successful or wise, but because I’ve learned a few things over the past 5 years that I’ve found beneficial to myself. I’m a really hard person to please, so I figure learning how to be satisfied in my struggle is something I can share with others.

It took me a long time to figure out how to be happy. I’ve always been generally content with life, but I’ve also experienced depression. Being completely and utterly lost was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was in my third year of university studying a bunch of shit I didn’t care about, knowing I never wanted to use any of it, paying tuition out of my own pocket, well, a pocket that was lent to me by the government. I hated prerequisites. I hated writing papers on things that are completely irrelevant to today’s world. I hated taking exams that tested my knowledge without actually testing my knowledge. I hated walking down the hallways and seeing everyone ready to jump at any moment, sleeping under chairs and drinking gallons of coffee just to keep their eyes open. I hated everything about it.

Why the fuck am I here? Every single day that’s all I asked myself. I had answers, it’s not as if my question went ignored, but I wasn’t satisfied with the reasoning behind my suffering. Family, society, necessity, degrees, success. None of that pertained to me because I knew I was setting myself up for a lifetime of disappointment.

And then it happened. Out of nowhere. It was like any other given school night, I sat there staring at meaningless numbers that apparently had some kind of meaning. It was the eve of my statistics exam, after studying for 3 hours and realizing I did not give a single flying fuck about any of it, I decided to do something else. I decided to quit university and follow some kind of dream that I had vaguely envisioned in my head. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have a clue. I just decided to trust my instinct and go with it.

Within two weeks I got a job as a copywriter. A couple months later someone, who I’ve now accepted as my fairy godmother, suggested I start a blog, I did. Someone else suggested I submit my rambling words into a magazine, I did. A month later I was published. Two months later I was invited to be interviewed by Bill Good. I got a scholarship to film school, I enrolled, I started and now I’m looking at the horizon knowing I could potentially fail but determined not to. I am currently residing in my dream. I’m creating things that matter to me. I’m excited to wake up everyday. No. That’s a fucking lie. I’m excited to wake up a lot, not everyday. The actual process of waking up is generally a pretty dreadful activity. I like being awake. That’s what I’m trying to say.

My point is that I may be a fucking nobody, but my dream is only as valid as I let it be. I was never sure of where I was going, I just knew I wanted to want wherever I ended up with all my heart. Nothing felt right until I started over. It was terrifying. Do you know how it feels to tell your Persian parents that you’re dropping out of university to become a writer? I’m still slightly terrified, but like, in a good way. I could have ended up finishing my degree and getting a government job or something. Or more likely, being the manager of a Starbucks. Still possible, but at least I’ll know I tried. Because nothing is worth it if you don’t try. They say being afraid is a good thing, and it is, but there’s a difference between being afraid with excitement and being afraid with misery. The latter can slowly destroy your soul. Misery is only useful up until a point. It can turn you cold if you never learn to utilize it properly.

You don’t have to know what you want right away. Hell, you will probably never fully know what you want, but the trick is challenging yourself and keeping yourself motivated and passionate. Being happy isn’t sunshine and lollipops, it’s often a lot of stress and pain, and a ton of bullshit along the way, but you’ll know when you are. You’ll know because that feeling of misery will fade out and even the shitty things that come with life will be kind of pretty okay. When you figure it out, happiness will linger even when you’re dirt poor, taking a bus, and eating ramen for dinner 5 nights a week. You realize the rest of it is bullshit.

No one knows you like you know you, no book, or sequal to that book, or talk show mogul can ever give you the actual advice you need. University works for a lot of people, but not for everyone. Living as a starving artist is satisfying to some, and completely unimaginable to others. Farming is one person’s dream and another person’s nightmare. The only trick in life is being honest with yourself and how you feel. If you’re content and passionate about the path you’re on, stick to it. But if you wake up in the morning and you dread the day that follows it, you can either stay fucked forever or make it better. Embrace the fear and mystery that come with not knowing what the fuck is going to happen next. If you get too comfortable, life will never teach you all the things that it has to offer. And it has a hell of a lot to offer.

Good Isn’t Always Nice

A “good person” is a pretty vague and open-ended term. It may even be subjective.

It hasn’t been a perfect journey, but I’ve always tried to be one. I’m still figuring out what is definitive when it comes to being good or bad. I mean, there’s obviously a general sense of not being shitty and awful, being caring to the people around you, not taking advantage of the self check out if you can afford it, and so on. But what has always confused me is that many people who I consider “good” are often silent when it comes down to a situation where they can vanquish their “bad” people counterparts.

The reason this confuses me is because I’ve always lived with the belief that it’s necessary to teach others about subjects they may be ignorant about. This is simply because we live in the future and not in a time where it’s acceptable for ignorance to just be a shoulder shrug and a skip forward onto your day. No one can be faulted for being naive, but I think we can all be faulted for not stepping in and spreading knowledge.

Today, I was in a long ass line at your typical yuppie grocery store. The suit in front was being horrendous to the cashier. She was an older lady, clearly struggling with her English, and likely had just started her job. As he went on to treat her like human garbage for being unable to ring through his organic produce, everyone else looked away and waited silently for his wrath to end. Including me. I thought about it. I thought about walking right up to him and kicking him in the leg, giving an inspirational speech, everyone else clapping and saving the cashier lady’s day all while giving her hope for humanity. I didn’t do it. I just thought about it.

I waited my turn, and when it was finally time for me to go up I apologized for his behaviour. She gave me a small smile, but my words clearly did not make her feel any better, and they shouldn’t have. She’s been through it, she knows people are shitty and she probably has to deal with pretentious douchebags all the time. Welcome to the big city, immigrant lady.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been reprimanded for calling people out on their shit, but now I know that I shouldn’t stop. I regret it every time I do. People, both in real life and on the internet, have called me various names for speaking my mind on why assholes should stop being assholes.

While, yes, my words do sometimes come from a place of anger, they also come from a good place. A place where I just expect more from humanity, and just sitting there and being disappointed isn’t fulfilling to me. I think doing so would make me a bad person.

In high school, I was about the same amount of opinionated as I am now, except no one wanted to hear anything I had to say, so I just had to think it. I graduated in 2009, so not exceptionally long ago. One Halloween, a few guys in my class came to school decked out in black face make up. I mentioned something to one of my friends who just told me I was being a buzzkill. I shrugged it off and skipped along with my day. I regret that.

After growing up a bit and realizing that you know what, fuck all those people, I started to stop censoring myself for the comfort of assholes and instead started speaking my mind.

I wish that I had gone up to that dude in the grocery store and told him to leave the cashier alone and stop taking his various issues out on her. I wish I had told him that listen, my mom came here with little to no English vocabulary and had to support my family by doing the same job. Dicks like him were the reason she would come home upset after working a 12 hour shift. It wasn’t the job, it wasn’t the hours, it was the way she was often treated. I regret not doing so.

But what I’m taking away from it is this: people come in all different mindsets. Some will agree with yours, some will even elevate you and help you grow. However, some need you to be the person that teaches them a thing or two. Sometimes you can do it kindly, and sometimes you have to throw it back in their faces. Being a good person isn’t always about how much money you donate to your charity of choice, or how open-minded you are about human rights, sometimes it’s as simple as helping the asshole in front of you become less of an asshole.

I’m often wrong, and I’m always learning. And for that, I am thankful. There’s nothing I love more than when someone calls me out on my bullshit, because I need it. In order for me to develop as a person and become the good person I one day hope to fully see in myself, I need to be told when I’m wrong. Do it for me. I will do it for you too. We should do it for everyone. You become a part of the problem as soon as you start walking away from a situation that you could have bettered.

We, as a world, have come a long way. Yes, there are still terrible things happening everywhere and it’s not hard to sit down and think about it and become severely depressed. But holy shit, the world is still magnificent. We’ve just entered this awkward place of being politically correct to the point of being passive, and that is harmful.

The reason we’ve come this far in the first place is because of people who refused to stay silent. They changed the world. We may not all capable of single-handedly starting a revolution, but in your everyday life you have an enormous power. That power is to just being vocally honest and teaching one another. That, to me, is the biggest part of being a good person.

Meet: Dehara

Dehara has a soul you can feel from a mile away. She has an energy that both demands your attention and keeps you seeking more. Born in Winnipeg and raised in Vancouver, she’s never been one to shy away from her goals- if she wants something she’s going to get it done. She’s also a new mother, and an amazing one at that. Her daughter has the same captivating energy that she does, which doesn’t surprise me at all.

Upon meeting Xenaiya, Dehara’s adorable baby, we’ve already hugged, laughed and become best friends. She’s a baby full of love and intelligence, something her mother has clearly bred into her. Dehara’s bond with her daughter is beautiful, to say the least. She’s real with her and talks to her like a person, which Xenaiya responds to. I can tell she’s going to be a firecracker, because her attitude is already shining through at just 1 and a half years old.

I’ve always been fascinated with the thought of motherhood, but I had never fully considered it. It’s a subject that can go both ways depending on what you want out of life. Being a woman is a phenomenal gift, and the definitions of womanhood are not what they once were. It’s up to us. While there’s still the assumption that all females want to become mothers, we’ve also have reached a point where it’s okay to freely admit you don’t want to have children. I’ve always wondered if it’s even possible to juggle everything at once. Is that a selfish thought? I never had complete assurance when it came to having kids, which led me to assume I didn’t want any. But after my conversation with Dehara, I know it’s an idea that I can keep open ended.

Dehara has everything going on and then some- she’s an entrepreneur, a fiercely independent woman, a mother, a  devoted sister and a partner to someone equally as devoted to life as she is. Her journey hasn’t been an easy one, but it’s clear to me she sees every single part of her existence as a miracle. She’s been through heartbreak and loss a number of times her life, but throughout it all she has always stayed devoted to rising up.

Upon finishing high school, Dehara played professional soccer for schools and countries around the world, including South Africa, the US, Norway and England. Feeling fulfilled in her athletic career at 25, Dehara moved back home to Vancouver.  She was hit with the news that her mother was sick. Within a short time she lost her boyfriend to suicide and her mother to cancer.

After taking her time to recover from events that would break the average person down forever, Dehara knew that she had to morph back into her true self to stay strong for her family, to make her mother proud. She began her career in real  estate, working side by side with her father at September Real Estate. Before long, she met her partner Xavier. By that time she knew she wanted a relationship, to start a family, and to continue spreading love into her world. He was the one.

During her pregnancy with Xenaiya she was told by her doctor that she was at risk for diabetes. Knowing she had to take action but not completely trusting Western medication, she researched different natural supplements she could take instead. She was approached to use Moringa– a superfood thats benefits include muscle recovery and help with arthritis. It also feeds the fetus all the nutrients it needs for proper development while keeping the mother healthy. Interested, but knowing it was overpriced, Dehara saw the opportunity to spread the word. At 30$ per bag that lasts up to 3 months, she has sourced the product directly to the Philippines, where her mother is from. She saw the opportunity to build a business on a product that promotes both ethical manufacturing and health and benefits her motherland.

Oh. She sings too. A songwriter that speaks freely from the heart, she sings from her soul. Her music is about finding your way, moving on, growing up, but also about love and relationships. She lists Sade, Erykah Badu and Lauryn Hill as some of her biggest inspirations. She plans on putting out an EP within the next year.

The fire in Dehara’s belly never went out- and it was never meant to. She’s a light for everyone around her, and she made me realize that life doesn’t have to be in a set path. Things change, sometimes they break down, and they should. That is what teaches us to grow and makes us evaluate what we’re all really doing here. She wants the best out of life, and she’s getting it. The devotion she has to being a loving mother and a woman of power assures me that it’s possible to do both.

After our conversation is over I feel uplifted. Despite everything she went through in her life, Dehara is concrete proof that nothing should ever hold you back from living a happy existence. She’s shown me that it actually is possible to have it all- as long as you’re willing to keep your perspective in check.

Photography: Marissa Morelos of MJ Photography

Make Up: Auzsha Potozny

Dehara’s Instagram: @deharaseptember

I ♥ Toronto

Maybe it’s just me.

But there’s magic in this city. I’ve been here for just over a week and I already know it’s home. Walking down the street is inspiring. Everywhere you look there’s something to see. People are rushed, yea, but they’re all going somewhere. There’s a general energy that says ‘let’s get shit done and do it well’.

Maybe it’s just me, but everyone I talk to seems to agree. It’s funny how cities have such different personalities. Vancouver is beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. But I’m not superficial. I came here for a reason, and that reason finally feels validated.

My roommates agree. Old friends, new friends, family. Yeah, there’s definitely something magic in the air.

There are a countless number of villages scattered throughout downtown Toronto, and that’s what makes it continuously exciting. Vancouver is multicultural, but it never felt diverse. You can feel other people, no matter what background they come from, embrace other cultures and actually enjoy them too. It doesn’t feel segregated.

I currently live in The Village, off Church Street. It’s Thee Village, Toronto’s equivalent to Davie. Where else would I want to be? Despite being straight, I’ve always found comfort within the LGBT community. The isolation I felt growing up has lead me to always feel the most connected with others who had experienced something similar or the same. It’s the kind of adversity that makes you step away from bullshit and decide to love instead. That understanding lives here.

Dating in Toronto also feels completely different. Dates aren’t strictly about the endgame (sorry mom) but about meeting people, vibing, connecting. I’ve always been someone to strike up a conversation worth having with anyone, but I’ve never felt so understood by strangers before. No one really has the time to beat around the bush and fill up space with small talk, because they’ve got their eye on the bigger picture.

Again, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just move fast. Maybe it’s just the luck I have that allows me to connect with great people. Maybe my bright eyes are making me delusional. Maybe I just needed a new place to explore. Either way, it feels good to be here. It feels right. It feels like home.

It’s official, I ♥ Toronto.

The Yaletown Diet

You’re classy and sassy and you’re sure as hell not about to step your off-brand Louboutins inside some dingy Gastown bar. You retired from Granville when you realized you were getting more attention than your friends at The Roxy. You’re moving up in the world, say goodbye to amateur hour, you deserve Yaletown.

You’re not an “aspiring” model anymore, you’ve got over 5,000 followers on Instagram. You’re #instafamous. You are Moses to the Jews; part the bridges and tunnels and lead your insta-followers to the elusive world hidden in Yaletown’s three cobblestoned streets. Give your followers a window into the lifestyle provided to you by one of Vancouver’s many 30K millionaires (your followers don’t need to know that part) #instacrop.

Yaletown isn’t a right, it’s a privilege. You have a responsibility to yourself and to your insta-followers to get on board the Yaletown diet.

The Cleanse

It’s vital that every Yaletown hottie has a killer bod, so stop eating and call it a cleanse. No need to get all complicated with meal plans and calorie counting, just avoid all food at all costs. No gluten, no fat, no sugar, no starch, no protein, no anything, no problem. Alcohol doesn’t count. Make sure you tell us all you’re on a cleanse for that extra motivation. If you feel like you’re about to pass out, blend a carrot with some kale and drink it while looking at a picture of a pizza alongside a fat chick #fitspo. Your dog isn’t just a super cute accessory, you got it to stay active. Walk your Chihuahua around a fire hydrant a few times to burn off the 25 calories from that fucking kale smoothie. It’s okay, you’ll have more willpower tomorrow. Losing 10 pounds in 3 days is a piece of cake. No cake included.

Natural is Subjective

To some people natural is what you’re born with, but we say it’s what you wake up with. You have no excuse to look average, and your natural look is only a few treatments away.  Wax and laser your body until you have a clean slate to glue and sew all your new parts onto. Next up, your fakessentials: hair, eyelashes, nails. Little East Indian girls dream of having their hair cropped and sold to the West. Don’t kill the kid’s dreams, glue that shit to your head. Extend your lashes so you can glare at your Vietnamese aesthetician with style as she shellacs your nails. When you’re on The Real Housewives of Vancouver, you’ll get this shit for free. Now you’re one step closer to waking up every morning as the perfect version of you- you know, the natural look. #iwokeuplikethis #longhairdontcare

Darwin’s Lizards

You’ve dominated nature once, you can do it again. This is survival of the fittest, and you’re an evolved woman ahead of her time. Reptiles get new skin, why can’t you? Inject the lips, implant the tits and throw a botox party to save a few dollars. There’s nothing sexier than a woman with a high financial quotient. Your body is a temple, not a homeless shelter. Everyone knows good interior design doesn’t come cheap, so invest in yourself. Refresh. 350 new followers.

Wear the Yaletown Uniform

Your starving, I mean cleansing, is working wonders for you. Show it off in your Yaletown uniform, known by outsiders as the “bandage dress.” If you haven’t already, find yourself a sugar daddy to sponsor you; you cannot walk through an intimate room like Pierre’s Champagne Lounge wearing the same dress as last Thursday. That 2 meter walk is your fucking runway. It’s okay if you’re walking like Bambi, you look hot. #showstopper

The High Life

Now that you’ve established your natural look, give your personality a lift. Being totally wasted is essential when you aren’t interesting, and drugs will help with that. Make a “bathroom trip” every 20 minutes to ensure you’re staying on top of your game. It’s also a great way to meet the white-knights who ensure you’re always equipped with some nose candy (zero calories, hell yes). Some guys are so generous. You know what they say, stay as high as your heels.

No New Friends

Yaletown co-habitants don’t look nearly as bomb as you do now that you’ve bankrolled your looks, but they still need to be put in their place. #nonewfriends Remind those bitches of how hot you are by showing your superiority with a disgusted face and an eye roll. For best results, practice this look in the mirror between contouring and backcombing before leaving for Y-Town. You’re a woman with class, and you left your bar fights behind on Granville Street. Compliment the girl in the washroom on her passé dress, have her follow you on Instagram and don’t follow her back. Bitch- 0, You- 1 (followers, that is).

Claim Mister Right Now

If you’re single and ready to mingle, it’s time to find Mr. Right Now. Your sugar daddy is at home with his wife, so it’s time to find someone to sponsor your night out. If the club promoter doesn’t pimp you out to someone’s bottle service upon entry, do laps across the 35 year old buff guy with bottle service at VIP until he notices you and signals you over. Nod and listen attentively over Avici as he tells you about his “import and export business” and how “much money he makes.” After he gets you drunk enough, take selfies in his Mercedes on the way to his house. This is ideal back-log material for your Instagram inventory. Afterwards, assume starfish position while he fucks you rapidly and asks you if “you like that”. Best three minutes of your life.

Public Relations

This is crucial, and must be constant. Make sure to Instagram everything you do to showcase your natural beauty, your sponsored lifestyle and your Yaletown cleanse. Isn’t it pathetic that other girls have to make a duck face? Now yours comes naturally! Staying on top of your PR is the key to keeping those followers tapping twice on your photos.

Embrace The New You, Until It Gets Old

Being this hot is a way of life, and it’s a lot of work. You deserve to look your best, and if you make an honest commitment to follow these instructions, you’ll be on your way to becoming a Yaletown legend. If you’re ever down on yourself, call the doctor and have him pull your face up. Cut those calories, put on your uniform, and bask in that attention. You’ve earned it. Your Instagram followers and your happiness are directly correlated- ugly chicks get no hits, and you were destined for #instafame. When you’ve hit your peak and time starts catching up to you, you can start a new life. After all, Yaletown is just another village; once you become the village idiot, you can retire your Instagram account, move to Kits and take up yoga.

And She’s Back At It

It seemed like a better time than any to reminisce on my former fascination with blossoming rose, Lindsay Lohan. Written 3 years ago today:

Addressing the Lindsay Lohan Issue

If you know anything about me, you know that I have an obsessive fascination with Lindsay Lohan. When I’m not rambling on about reality, I am thinking about Lindsay Lohan. What is she doing right now? Is she having a smoke and wishing it was sprinkled with crack? Arguing with her publicist? Running a club manager over with her leased Ferrari? Is she looking at pictures of herself from 8 years ago and crying?

Lindsay Lohan is, hands down, the most compelling celebrity of our time. And by compelling I mean we’re as addicted to her as she is to fame.

Our fixation with celebrities is arguably the most palpable piece of evidence we have of humanity’s downfall. We watch these people, who we’ve deemed ‘stars’ because they stand in front of a camera and live a lie, go to the grocery store, stumble out of clubs, and leave the gym. We follow their relationship statuses and we take political advice from them because they, obviously, have a greater sense of what’s right. I know more about Taylor Swift’s love life than my best friend’s.

If celebrity magazines and TV shows devoted to capturing stars walking out of restaurants weren’t enough, we’ve even started giving filthy rich non-celebrities TV shows, thus making them celebrities. Once a week North America, no, the world, watches Kim Kardashian ugly cry because she’s exhausted and ‘over’ going from one photo-shoot to another everyday of her life. If I had the power to send one person to live in isolation with chimps, it would be Kim Kardashian. But I would never do that. Because a camera crew and a 50 million dollar deal would follow her every step of the way. I know better.

While you were reading about the Jolie-Pitt’s parenting techniques, your baby threw the sugar cereal you put in front of it for breakfast across the room, fell off it’s high chair and into a black hole where it will be raised by television for the rest of it’s life. Ice T and Coco will host it’s favourite children’s learning show because you know damn well those implants and extensions are not going to pay for themselves. Everybody’s got to make a living, right? Right?

Anyway, reality stars are pseudo-celebrities and I do not care nor have time for them. Back to the real star, Lindsay Lohan. She defines everything. She represents exactly why Hollywood works and why fame exists. She’s a decaying flower of glory and with every stunt she pulls she reminds us that although she’s a class-A whack job with not much hope for a future, we’re the real losers in all of this.

Every time Lindsay Lohan gets arrested I begin to internally argue with myself. I catch myself caring and I begin to question my life. She deserves to go to jail, probably hell, but she will never, ever go to jail. She, however, will eventually go to Hell. Lindsay Lohan is a human shield against punishment. She could be shooting a scene of her shitty straight-to-DVD film and murder her co-star in front of the whole crew and get away with it. She could rail a line off the judge’s ass in the middle of a hearing and just get probation. Does Lindsay Lohan use the law of attraction? Or is she superhuman? Either way, justice is Lindsay Lohan’s bitch. Which is exactly why Lindsay Lohan is amazing. She epitomizes everything that is wrong with celebrity and she has fucked herself over so many times I’ve lost count, but it’s working. We care about her. We’re so mad at her, but we care. And this right here is what motivates me to become a better human being, to rise above caring about celebrities. Will I?

Lindsay Lohan is trying to prove a point. No she’s not, but we’ll say she is. Her life mission is to keep us fixated on her until we realize that we’re the ones that paid for all of her drugs. You make 9 dollars an hour but will go see a reasonably shitty 15 dollar movie and buy a 6 dollar magazine full of make-up-less celebrities at their downfall. She made 200,000 grand off that upskirt photo, and she probably snorted all of it.

Let Lindsay teach you a lesson. She will party until her world ends because she knows no other way, and this is how we accept her. She has taught me to look beyond the image of celebrity and look into the sad, sad reality of it. She has brought some wisdom  into my life and for that reason she will be the only star I ever follow.

Lindsay, I love you. Never get your act together because that’s when I’ll start forgetting about you.  Keep failing, keep doing you, because that’s what you do best.

The escapades of a cynical optimist.