My life as a superstar.

I doubt anyone knows who I am beyond my little bubblicious sphere at school and home. But what if they did? I think I would like to be one of those quiet superstars; not like JLo, because everyone is pretty much fed up with her face being plastered on every girly magazine cover, tube station wall, and cheesy talk show ad. I hope that I could be refined and cultured, enjoying the limelight without growing obsessive. I would be the kind of superstar who appreciated my fans and didn't flip out and kill people like a ninja every time I got asked for an autograph. I would wear big, dark sunglasses and have a funky haircut, although it wouldn't be so wacked that I looked like I'd let a four-year-old cut my hair. I wouldn't try to do everything, like cut a record, make three films, start a charity, and open a design studio; I would want to keep certain loves only to myself. Not everyone has to know that I adore chocolate ice cream and that black licorice is one of my favorite flavors. Why else would I like slippery nipples (a drink for those of you who don't know) so much? But as a superstar, if everyone knew my secret loves, I would be getting half-melted boxes of chocolate ice cream sent to my fan-club headquarters. That would be pretty messy, and as a kind superstar, I wouldn't want to put my staff through that. If I was a superstar, I could afford to spend more time in London, walking along the Thames in the springtime, feeling the sun on my face and watching the gulls dance above the water. I could probably afford to lease a flat downtown; I could walk in St. James Park as much as I wanted to, and wouldn't have to worry about the cost of a tube ride down there every time I wanted to just lounge in the grass and read a good book. I could go to Westminster Abbey for church every Sunday and indulge myself in the sweet music of the choir. Honestly, though, I don't even have to be a superstar to enjoy all those things. Of course, I don't live in downtown London, but it's not that difficult to get there from here. It's spring, one of my favorite seasons, and I have the amazing ability to enjoy the beautiful weather in whatever way I choose. I have a bag of black licorice in front of me (no chocolate ice cream, I'm afraid-- I don't have a fridge), yellow roses on my window sill, and a book of Tennyson's poems by my elbow. Now, if there was a guy reclining on my bed/sofa, my life would be bliss. Even without him, my life is very good. Who would want to be a superstar, with all the pressures of fame and fortune? No wonder most of their lives are in shambles. I would rather be poor and content than rich and dissatisfied.