High School Musical 3: Senior Year Cast | Now or Never
High School Musical 3: Senior Year OST (2008)
I’ve been a fan of Justin Bieber since the very beginning of his career in 2009 and I will continue to be, even through the bad times. While I won’t defend or excuse any of his wrongdoings, I will attempt to show you things from his perspective.
Justin’s childhood was a particularly rough one. His parents separated, so he lived with his mom there on out. They didn’t have much money and even visited food drives just to make it. Justin’s father was noticably absent. It wasn’t until Justin received a record deal that his dad reappeared in his life.
Justin’s fanbase has steadily increased since his debut into the world with his first record, My World. But so have the haters. From the age of 15, Justin has had to deal with people calling him gay, insulting his haircut and making fun of him for “sounding like a girl” among other ridiiculously ignorant things, often times from people twice his age. No child should ever have to deal with negativity like he has had to, especially from millions of strangers. Log on to Twitter right now and I guarantee you’ll find at least 300 horribly cruel tweets directed at him from people he doesn’t even know. Imagine a 15 year old kid from a little small town in Canada scrolling on his laptop reading every single thing said about him, one after the next. It’s something no one should ever be subjected to, but especially not an innocent 15 year old child just trying to live out his dream.
"So what?", you say. "He’s rich, girls love him, and he’s got the world at the palm at his fingertips. So what he’s hated on by millions of people every day? That’s the price of fame." But what you fail to realize is that there is a downside to everything that comes along with fame. You forget to acknowledge the total lack of privacy and the tabloid rumors. You refuse to see that being under a microscope all the time isn’t as glamorius as one might think because all you see are the fancy cars, the 24k gold chains and the flashing lights. But imagine a 16 year old kid from a small town in Canada causing a ruckus simply by stepping out of his house to go shopping with his family on a Tuesday morning. Imagine people knowing where you are at all times. Imagine 300 screaming girls outside of your hotel room screaming at the top of their lungs while you’re trying to rest for the 4 hours of downtime you have before performing later that night. Picture the paparazzi armed with DSLR cameras shouting obscenities at you after having dinner with your loved ones. Imagine not being able to use a public restroom without someone taking a picture of you. There is no fun in that, it’s just plain scary.
But you’re still not convinced that everything that glitters ain’t gold. All you see are the red carpet interviews, the number one hits and the YouTube views. You refuse to accept the pain of not being able to experience a normal life. The guilt of never being around to see your old friends and your ailing granparents never crosses your mind. And why should it? He’s the biggest popstar on the planet, he can be friends with anyone he wants. But unbeknowst to you are the amount of people who claim to have his back, which to them means keeping a close eye on his wallet. The ones who say they’re your friends, are the same people who share personal details about you and your life with People Magazine anonymously in exchange for a few dollars. The girls who say they’re your biggest fans are the same girls who turn around and claim you got them pregnant backstage after one of your concerts for attention. And boy does it grab headlines. But still you stand, arms crossed with unwavering belief that being a celebrity is nothing but rainbows and butterflies.
Imagine a 16 year old kid from a small town in Canada falling in love with a girl a couple of years older than him with equal notoriety. Then consider this, enduring a breakup with said girl months later as the world looks on. While you’re just trying to get through the goddamn day, the world speculates on something they have little to no knowledge about. Before you can even accept the truth yourself, Perez Hilton lies and exaggerates the story about what happened and posts it on his website. Then the media discovers it, radio disc jockeys gossip about you. Entertainment Tonight airs and you see your face plastered all over the screen. But it doesn’t stop there, because Access Hollywood, TMZ, and every late night tv personality have yet to gve their two cents about you. Chelsea Handler and Jimmy Kimmel’s writers are like hamsters on an exercise wheel, running with pure adrenaline, eager to create the best one liners about you for their audiences. But it still isn’t enough for you to see how unpleasant superstadom can be.
Consider this: 2 hours of performing nonstop, and 14 hour flights immediately after with minimal resting time in between, every night, for 6 months to a year. In the midst of crazy traveling schedules and jet lag, you are entitled to conduct numerous interviews and appearances with a bright bubbly smile, every time. Even though you’ve just undergone the worst heartache imaginable. Now multiply all of that by the number of people dependant on you. Not only is your mom counting on you to succeed, but your manager, your band, your entire crew and their families are too. You are a role model to people everywhere, whether you want to be or not. The world relies on your clean cut look and unintimidating appeal to sell records. This means that your every move is documented and analyzed, excrutiatingly. One mistake and your career could come crumbling down in a pile of ashes too big for anyone to clean up. Maybe it’d be okay if it ended there, if you alone were forced out of the industry for one too many mishaps, but unfortunately, it creates a domino effect. Now everyone who works for you or is in any way affiliated with you has to worry about where they’ll lay their head at night. All because some 17 year old kid from a small town in Canada was spotted drinking in a 21+ bar. Parents of your fans try desperately to cover their children’s eyes but they manage to see the tabloids for themselves. “BIEBER HEADED FOR DOWNWARD SPIRAL”, “JUSTIN CAUGHT SMOKING!: Could this be the end of his career?"
And maybe they’re right, because the next thing you’re caught doing is peeing in a mop bucket, dropping the f bomb at a former president, threatening to beat up random paparazzi men, and spitting on your neighbors for complaining about how fast you were driving in a gated community. Things continually descend into utter chaos, and yet no one stops to ask if you’re okay. Your label doesn’t see a 19 year old kid from a small town in Canada, but a cash heralding machine for them to invest in. The world has ceased to give you credit for the amazing things you’ve done, like donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to children’s hospitals and participating in dozens of Make-A-Wish foundation activities. Your record of being a good person has been entirely esponged. The love of your life is gone. Your old friends stop answering their phones, your family keeps their distance, and your fans walk away. Everything you touch disintegrates into pieces in front of your very eyes. But you’re still obligated to go back into the studio next week and begin working on another album. No one places both of their hands on your shoulders, gives you direct eye contact and asks if you need a helping hand. No one’s looking out for your well being anymore.
No one cares about the kid from a small town in Canada.