The Death of Lemmy and The Glorification of Drug Culture

We live in a very contradictory world. The day after Black Friday ('Murica's version of Boxing Day on steroids) we LOL’ed at images of folks scavenging for new HD TV’s and biting, kicking (whatever it took really) to whoever stood in their way. In the same breath we like pictures of our friends’ new cars, just bought Coach purses and everything else under the sun that defines consumerism. Don’t get me wrong, I love me a brand spankin’ new pebble leather Coach purse, I’m just saying we are all walking, talking contradictions that hate on one thing but like (literally) the same thing just disguised in a more civilized and prettier package.

We do not however only practice such behaviour in relation to images on our screen but also to those we worship and consequently then mourn (and somehow look surprised that they died). On that note, I don’t know about you but show me everyday Joe Blow or Plain Jane who struggles with drug addiction and you will show me somebody who has lost the majority of his or her friends and family. Somebody who walks around the party with a scarlet letter attached to their Motorhead shirt that could might as well read, “Serious Drug User. Do not Approach and/or Approach with Caution.” 

Drug users live with a certain stigma that most almost never shake off (even when clean). And understandably so. However none of this applies if you are a successful musician as Lemmy Kilmister was. Your hardcore partying, bad boy, “I do as I please and go as I please” approach to life and love is praised and regarded as a holy doctrine of sorts in the bible of rock n roll. To some he is rock n' roll and to criticize him is to criticize the genre that so many (including myself) love.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hatin’ on good ol’ Lemmy (in fact a part of me wishes I had more of him and less of nagging, responsible me) but I am somewhat shocked at how much we are praising a man who proudly proclaimed to have slept with over 1,000 women, smoked, injected and snorted more than he probably needed all under the disguise of living life to the fullest.Why don't we praise everyday civilians who live like that? God knows many do. Maybe if they played guitar and wore all black they would be, right?

Musicians such as Lemmy often brand drug addiction in such a colorful, cool package that one cannot help but say, "This looks fun, can I has dat?" At what point though does one say enough when such a lifestyle starts deteriorating your health, your mind, our body, and above all, your talent and craft. Lemmy was a gifted musician, no one is denying that but make his life some kind of an example to an impressionable young kid and watch how fast he may end up as an STD ridden addict with no real future. 

Lemmy preached the rock n roll lifestyle till he died but what else was left for him to do? Tell us all that it's all just one giant lie that will leave you sick in the end. Break the hearts of countless aging but once young men who followed his bachelor lifestyle to a tee and are now living at home while some of their friends have wives and children. 

It's a hard thing I assume to be a walking, talking rock n roll God because at the end of the day you are merely a human being that may one day say, "I changed my mind." Personally, I've always believed that though people project a certain image and outlook it does not mean that at one point they wished their life had taken a different turn (even if they wont admit that to their friends, fans or even themselves).

Sometimes we preach a certain lifestyle so loudly and passionately and for so long that even when we want to change it, we feel almost ashamed to abandon the person we claimed to have known it all. Maybe at the end of his life Lemmy regretted his decisions to have been the poster child for drugs, sex and rock n roll. Before you message me with a “No of course he didn’t, silly girl!” please know that you do not know that. I don’t either. How Lemmy felt at the end of his life is something only he knows. Hopefully he died at peace or maybe he wished (just a little bit) he could do it all differently. Again, I don’t know that answer and you don’t either.

Going back to my original point- why do we shun everyday non-famous drug users but praise rich popular ones? They too are living life to the fullest, if you ask them. Is there a difference to them? Sure there is. Only to a fan though. Drug addiction is all about living "life like a video. When the sun is always out and you never get old. And the champagne’s always cold and the music is always good" until you witness somebody close to you become a shadow of who they once were due to them. After that, references to them in your favourite songs don’t seem so catchy anymore and any sort of praise by them by a celebrity is seen as an example of a blabbering drug addict who is trying to convince everyone that the party is still on and nothing is wrong. Even when everything is.

The Vulnerability of Being A Woman

When I was growing up in the suburbs of North York, things like gender and the repercussions of being born female did not dominate my mind. Kathleen Wynn had not yet implemented her radical sex-ed curriculum and the only times gender was discussed was when it was in relation to physical health. I lived my life with a type of rose-colored glasses approach that made me believe that I can be friends with males and it can be cool. I can walk around Bathurst and Finch at 11 pm with my headphones on blast listening to Aqua without so much as a bat of my mascara painted lash and the fact that I was a female put me in so less danger physically, mentally or emotionally than if I was born male. Silly girl I was. 

Going forward 15 years later and I am singing a different tune. Why? Because being friends with a guy usually meant that sometime in our friendship he’d sit me down, I’d take a breath (knowing what's to come) and hear him utter, “You know I like more than a friend right?” The next 10 minutes would involve me explaining to him that the fact that I bought him a drink the other night was just me being a generous friend. That time I threw him a birthday party; again just me being a good “bro” (if I didn’t have tits and a vagina). The next day he'd be upset and something along the lines of, "I can't be friends with someone who lead me on" would be waiting for me in my inbox. After a few of these I realized that because of my gender I could never just be another bro.

After having several of such encounters in my life I couldn’t close my eyes anymore to what was so blatantly in front of me. My gender and the fact that I was born female would never allow me to inherent the effects of certain situations as a male would. I couldn’t be touchy feeling with a male I saw as my little/big brother without him thinking I wanted him. I couldn’t have a really friendly conversation with a male friend online without someone deciphering it as flirty and I definitely could not walk up to a guy wearing a GNR tee and wanna blab about Chinese Democracy without him claiming, “Karina just totally hit on me.” You can say I’m reaching but its happened too many times for it all just to be coincidence. 

I can no longer close my eyes and continue to sing the tune of, “I can do anything a man does.” I can’t and I’ve accepted that. I can also no longer close my eyes to the fact that because I was born female I am at risk every single day of my life to violence by a male. If you think I am exaggerating you obviously do not take public transit and or spend much time in crowded downtown places or are a woman. I do and I see women constantly being intimidated, called derogatory names, sometimes shoved and on a really busy day, a combination of all those things. I see some of them yell back or somehow position their bodies to look as though they are gonna make his day but we both know they wont. How can they? How can a 5’6 woman (even a fit one) go up against an average sized male? Sure I love the idea of tit for tat and women serving up a slice of never-disrespect-a-woman-again-Joe but how realistic is that? It’s not. Most everyday acts of physical mistreatment (it can be a simple fling of an arm in a busy walkway that can actually hurt if you have a much smaller, delicate arm) that women are faced with everyday of their lives goes unnoticed (not everyone is a writer and taking mental notes on everything that they see around them), unreported and above all, accepted and normalized as, "Listen, missy, this is Toronto. You are bound to get a little roughed up if you don't move fast enough." 

It is in those situations (where there is no polite, “Oh I’m so sorry miss, didn’t see you there; hope that didn’t hurt.”) that women are reminded that even if they are wronged there isn’t much they can do about it. You can yell back at him, “Hey, watch it, buddy!” (as I do) but even then sexism goes against you and you are left to look like the crazy one. The one overreacting over a simple brush of the hand. Ask any woman who has ever experienced "a simple brush of the hand" from a man how it felt. Some might even surprise you and tell you they noticed a small bruise the next day. That's what happens when somebody 2 times bigger than you brushes their hand heavily on your shoulder as you are walking out onto the busy street.

Don’t think the suppression of women only happens in crowded, urban spaces though. One needs to look at the intriguing yet dangerous world of the Internet to see the double standard that exists between the sexes. Aside from my own patriarchal thread bashing experience (read:  http://theocdmind.blogspot.ca/2015/10/online-mob-mentality-bandwagon-hating.html I’ve witnessed many posts and statuses that I think crossed the line. Don’t get me wrong, I can take and deliver a sexist, no ill will meaning joke like any bro but many I’ve seen oozed outright hatred and a sort of disregard for women that have made me want to call their mother and say, "Bang up job, madam." When I'd fantasize about doing that I had to remind myself that itself is sexist. 

Sexism is so inherently wired that we like to place blame on mothers (not fathers) for how children grow up. Ever watch one of those old school movies that are on Saturday nights? If there is ever a parent and teacher interview and little junior had been bad, almost always the mother gets a scolding too. The father is usually seen shaking his head in disapproval of the both of them. Sorta like, "Shame, shame, wife and son. What am I gonna do with the both of yous?" Fascinating ain't it?

Speaking of online sexism, a few weeks ago I had someone on my friend’s list post a viral video of a woman politely rejecting a male’s request for a date with the caption “Bitch.” I had a lot to do that morning but I couldn’t bite my tongue and calmly expressed to former Facebook friend how a) a woman is allowed to reject anyone, anytime, all day, every day and b) what did she do that made him categorize her as a “bitch.” His absurd remarks went on about how women play with guys and that is what makes them bitches (I think I’m quoting him actually). My heart broke just a little when he replied with that. Not because this was possibly going to be somebody’s father one day but that I live in a world full of millions of men who think they are entitled to women’s minds, bodies and above all, their time (our most precious resource, sir) for the simple fact that they are seemingly nice men just looking to chat you up. Sorry bruh, I never got that memo. You know that one that said that just because you are engaging with me I need to engage back and if I don't I am somehow an evil bitch. 

How fascinating would it be if the tables were reversed and women were allowed to put the label "asshole" on every man crush who shot them down. Instead they are encouraged to take rejection with grace and a sort of unemotional response that doesn't let things be weird. Heaven forbid they get weird? Doesn’t seem very fair to judge women for not being interested, now does it?

The day all men (and women) recognize that everything is a personal decision and whether to engage in something as simple as a conversation is also a decision that I have full right to terminate at any point in time, it is then that the patriarchal entitlement that suffocates women of all ages and races can be lessened.

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a woman (almost) every single day of my life but the older I get the more I see the discrimination, the silencing and stigmatization of the woman (it gets even worse if you an overly expressive one like me). Next time you are out walking somewhere really busy, be mindful of who you may (accidentally) fling with your arm. If it is a woman, apologize and don’t act tough, for she already knows you in control at that moment.

How Your Over-Conscious, Over-Thinking Self is Not Allowing You To Lead the Life You Want

You know who had it right all along? Nike. No, I’m not talking about the fact that they had celebrity endorsement deals before it was a thing (can you imagine rocking a Yeezus sneaker in 1994?) or that they brought every kid growing up in BNS a little bit of the capitalist dream every time our allowance, Hanukkah and birthday money hit the triple digits. I’m talking about the emphasis of just going for it or as the infamous saying went, “Just Do It”

If I can climb into a time machine and tell 24 year-old me anything it would be that exact phrase, “(Bitch) Just Do It”. Don’t think. Certainly don’t analyze and for the love of Yeezus (2^nd reference of the day) don’t spend weeks weighing your options (until it wasn’t even an option and the opportunity passed) but just act. Now before you label this as rash advice promoting careless and urge-oriented decision making, I’m here to tell you its not. Rather, it’s a less thinking, more doing mantra that sees dreams materialize into tangible things you can create, produce and maybe even tag on Facebook.  

It’s great to have goals (actually I highly recommend you start having them like now) but something horrible happens as you sit on a dream; looking at it, admiring it, breathing it in but not actually digesting it? With enough time it rots. Yes, even the most bound to ripe dream will rot. Not because it was a bad dream or because you didn’t have the heart, the drive or the brains to make it happen but rather it rotted for the simple fact that you left it on the shelf too long. Neglected coupled with the inaction of not doing anything allowed it to decay and what was once shiny and new became stale and redundant.

That’s the interesting thing about human beings. We are so instant gratification seeking that we are actually hesitant about doing anything that will not produce results within the week or month. I wonder how many Zuckerbergs there were until one actually took the time, had the patience and laid out the steps to see a plan out? I’m guessing a few.

On that note, why do we have good ideas but rarely implement them. Or start experiencing a lack of confidence and start questioning, “Why me?” It is that same “Why me?” attitude has made you not reach out to that guy you have always found attractive and you think you have a spark with every time you two talk. It is that same “Why me?” attitude that has made you stay quiet when you knew that answer in your grade 12 English class. Though I belong to the “Why not me?” category of people I understand those who belong to the latter. It may be hard to believe but I am a former recovering, "Why me?" 

The "Why me?" group is made up of those individuals who think great things are meant for other people; they will take the leftovers (granted there are some left). Those whose conscious is so on and in overdrive that every mistake, every road block is so carefully orchestrated (and already coming at you if you believe in the whole, think it and it will come rule of attraction) that you already failed, in your head, sitting at home on the couch, before you even tried. Doesn’t that break your heart? 

 

Me for instance, I wanted to start my own blog but my over-conscious self (and some well meaning peeps) told me nobody would get me, it would be hard to get readers, no one would enjoy reading long essays but rather prefer short tidbits of advice they can read within 5 minutes. None of those things stopped me though they are still valid (I'm sure some still don’t get and probably never will). I went forward with a dream and sit here with 55+ blog posts. Never mind who reads them and who doesn't. Dreams are foremost for yourself. What a pity that most forget that. Had I not done this blog it would have been added to the other pile of “I wanted to but this and that happened” and that’s wasn’t fair to me.

How many life goals would you say you had over the course of the last 5 years that you gave too much time to just sit there and collect dust? Fifty percent of them? All of them? You forgot to tend to it and before you knew it the dream mummified. You tried to resurrect it, bring it back to life but just like the magic in a once stellar relationship approaching its 3 year mark, once its dead, it isn’t coming back. That’s why tending to dreams, doing anything to keep them alive, much like relationships, is so pivotal to success.

The truth is every action has pros and cons. Even getting out of your front door is risky business depends on who you ask but you still do it right? Do you actually get out of bed? Of course you do. For most of us it’s a no-brainer and so why not approach big dreams with that same ballsy attitude. You have been getting out of bed like a boss for so long you just might write a book on it (see: Russian girl gets out of bed like a boss everyday). Why do you get out of bed like a boss? Because you just do it. You don’t think about it and lo and behold, it gets done. You don’t lie there in bed thinking whether or not to get up. God damn it, you just get up. You just do it. Imagine if you pursued anything you ever wanted with the same no-brainer attitude as you did with getting out of bed?

Instead we think about our dreams and goals, weigh our options get either scared or lazy. Or put them somewhere on the proverbial back burner that we forget about altogether, or rather they lay with us in our bed, forever; never seeing the light of day.

Remember that part I was saying how I belong to the “Why Not Me?” category of persons? Well, I still think I do but that doesn’t mean I too do not have a list of things I never got to because I was scared, I procrastinated, I didn’t want to do the work at the time. Believe me, I do, however, I focus on what I can do today to see them materialize instead on dwelling that they didn’t.

My advice to you (and myself) is to not let your dreams die but rather pursue them. Afraid of failing? Yeah we all are but how cool is that one you can look back and say you were a blogger and promoter at one point in time? Or pursued being a blogger and promoter at one point in time.

Why am I so motivated you ask? Well for starters, I secretly fear death and with every birthday I realize that I have one less year to do everything I want to. Or maybe as I get older I develop more confidence and self-love to actually pursue things that serve me and not waste times on those that do not. Or maybe it’s a mixture of both. And besides, why not me (or you) indeed? 

Or maybe some of want your dreams to be like an old stuffed animal you don’t wanna let go of. You just need to hold it and see that its still there. Whether you pursue it doesn’t matter, you just want to have them to comfort you when you need it.

What I have learned, if you do not pursue a dream you let the dream fester inside you till it altogether gets swallowed by doubt. When you do not pursue a dream it become dehydrated and eventually it dies. Died from natural cause the corner will probably say but you will now better, you died because you let it die.