Live Different - our motivation

Written By: Liv Lethal

So as some of you may know, Samantha Mack and I went to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico a couple months ago with Judy Chin, photographer extraordinaire. The trip had quite the effect on me, and on the third day I was discussing plans with Sam about coming back to the country and building a house. And here we are, planning events that will help us raise money to do so, with our first event being on July 26th.

But, there have some misunderstandings regarding the purpose of our fundraiser so I'm writing this note to outline our plans and how why we are doing this. Some people think that we are raising money just to go on a free vacation, and others don't understand why we are going to Mexico to help a poor family instead of helping the homeless here. So here is a detailed explanation of what's been going on through my head before, during, and after the whole trip.

A week before leaving for Puerto Vallarta, I recall talking to one of my coworkers at the elementary school about a trip she had just come back from. She had gone to the Dominican Republic to build a house for a family through a non-governmental organization called Live Different. Anyone who knows me well would know that I would have been super duper interested. I was born and raised in Tehran, Iran for half my life. Tehran is a very populated and polluted city where the gap between the rich and poor is quite huge. I grew up witnessing severe poverty (see one my previous notes for an experience I had in a hospital in Tehran that motivated me to become a doctor) and always felt as if I needed to do something to help those in need. Why some had so much, and others had nothing left me furious and heartbroken over the injustice that was prevalent. I never did let go of that belief, and after moving to the USA, my family quickly went from being middle class to not so well off, despite my father having a double PhD. My parents worked their asses off to pay for what we had, and I quickly became aware that my ESL and dark features had marked me as an alien in the Neo-Nazi community in Idaho that we had ended up in. I definitely know what it's like to be marginalized and financially unstable. Regardless of my difficulties, I studied as hard as I could and eventually skipped a full grade, starting UBC as soon as I could. I was always thankful for the educational system in the North West. In Canada, if you have a plan and work hard, you can be anything that you want.

Anyway, the day of the trip arrived and we were eventually in paradise. The warmness and friendliness of Mexican culture was so similar to Iranian culture that I felt right at home! I was in love! But on the second day, between Sam looking for a baby daddy, Judy bargaining with the tour guides for a snorkeling trip, and me signing up for the most ridiculous beach olympic tournaments (and getting into some seriously hilarious awkward situations), we decided to wander off into the villages nearby. I felt as if our resort was just a postcard, or like a scratch n' sniff sticker. The smell only faintly resembled the "fruit" it was claiming to be. The poverty was horrifying. Needless to say, our resort must have looked like a castle to the poor people around, and I wasn't too surprised when we were slammed with the locals trying to sell us things. There were so many children working during the day, too poor and marginalized to afford a basic education. The vicious cycle of poverty was in full gear. Going back to the resort that night had left a bad feeling in my stomach. I felt so awkward sitting on my bright blue floatie, hanging out in one of the 12 pools in the resort. I had access to some of the best food in the district, and yet so much of it was being thrown away. I was so close to sneaking ice cream out the resort to take to the little ones that I had met in the villages.

I brought up Live Different with Sam and suggested wanting to come back to Mexico to build a house for a family living in a garbage dump. Having done lots of fundraising before, Sam was all over it. We thought about how we could raise money and decided to come back for Christmas to Vicente Guerrero and build a house.

The biggest reason why I want to be a doctor is to help people without political affiliation. I want to be able to travel to different countries and help those at risk. But I'm not at that stage yet. I have a good 300 muscles left to memorize :P. But through Live Different, I know that I'm able to raise money to at least change the life of a child growing in a situation with no opportunities. I dream of one day helping the homeless right outside my door as well, but the reasons behind poverty in Vancouver are different from those in Mexico. They are a bit more complicated. Building a house for someone here will cost far more and take much more muscle and brain power. The house we're building in Mexico will have no running water or electricity, but those things are rare in Vicente Guerrero as it is a brutally poor area near the US/Mexico border. Building a house there might also be a reason to keep the Mexicans in Mexico and decrease the illegal immigration rate.

It is important for people to realize that Mexico is not one giant sunny beach paradise. That's probably less than 5% of the country, and a popular stereotype that keeps the tourism industry alive. We are going to stay with a family while we are there, and are going  work everyday for seven days, getting up at 7am to build. I will be video blogging the whole experience as well. Here is an example of the "garbage dump" families there: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxqbwebKpX4

Here is the website for those interested in our trip: http://livedifferent.com/hero-holiday
All the details should be listed there!

"We are all about choice - the choice to live different.

We believe in the value of each of our lives, and that value is what makes our lives worth living.

We will not be persuaded by the lure of apathy or the haze of indifference. We will stand up for what is right.

We will not perpetuate the 'me-first' mentality that endangers our culture. We will remind the world that there is more to live for.

We believe that a changed heart can truly change the world.

We believe that this change starts with each of us.

It starts now. Live Different."

OUR FIRST EVENT WILL BE ON JULY 26th AT THE PENTHOUSE.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/events/414665951908782/

My Shorts Were Fashionably Short

Saturday Night. I'm standing with my team in line at the night club waiting to get in. I'm wearing a latex corset with bits of material draped across the important parts and about 3 hours worth of body paint and feathers. The other two models on my team are wearing booty shorts and body paint and one had a sailors hat. We stand out... to say the least. Why are we not VIP and escorted into the club immediatly? Afterall the only reason we're there is to be in the midnight fashion show. As far as I understand... WE are the entertainment for their club...

We just finished an all day make up competition and the "fashion" portion was supposed to be judged on stage. Act 5 cosmetics was giving away thousands of dollars in prizes and our team was there in full force. tweeting, FBing and networking like crazy.

After about 15 mins we finally made it into the club and it was a sausage fest! I've spent most of the last 8 years working in strip clubs and "I" was shocked at how many men were at this club.Men kept bumping into me - well, my boobs, as their friends took pictures. They thought they were being sneaky (as most drunks do)
An hour later I was frustrated with the idle chit chat. NO ONE KNEW WHY WE WERE DRESSED LIKE SEA CREATURES AND SUMMER FANTASIES!!! It was so awkward. Then we were hurded onto the make shift stage and the MC tried to announce us. The sea of people didn't give a shit. When she announced names for our fashion show it quickly became a competition of who could shake it best. The girl with the skirt made of glow sticks won. The MC tried to get the audience to cheer for their favorites but she was squshed in a corner and had no control over the chaos that had been created.

I climbed off the speakers that were working double time as our stage into the eager hands of a dozen or so intoxicated fools who now felt intitled to grab and pull me in their direction. I felt one hand on my tit as another grabbed my ass, on man then held my wrist and wouldn't let go. I turned around, filled with rage and couldn't tell who in the sea of people to get mad at.

Overwhelmed, tired and pissed off I made my way back to my purse which held all my real clothes.
As I walked through the club more men made comments that increased the fury I was mindfully compressing. I changed into my normal clothes in the washroom. (muklucks, camo shorts and a black long sleve zip up hoodie. However I was still painted head to toe in blue, green and purple body paint and glitter with the most beautiful and exoticv feathers glued here and there) While I was changing i recieved a txt that the dude who had my truck was about 20 mins away. My response was something to the effect of,
"I need the fuck outta here, I'm gonna spill someone face soon"
and that's exactly how I felt. I waws about 20 feet from the exit when one more dude grabbed my wrist and told me I was going to have a good time tonight. He may have meant well.. I pulled my arm away. Rage, nothing but rage fueling me. Then another random hand grabbed my bottom. Now my shorts are fashionably short and I wasn't wearing panties. Whoevers hand that was definitly had my DNA on his fingertips. I have never turned around so fast in my entire life. I've only hit someone out of anger twice in my life... this was the third time. Due to my manicure I cant make a good fist but my lil bro taught me how to throw on hell of an elbow.  As soon as my elbow made contact I grabbed him by the shirt and yelled something along the lines of..
"I didn't ask you to finger fuck me and you didn't ask to get hit.. now were even."

I bolted from the club.
My team was outside saying their goodbyes. I smiled, said my thank yous and started walking home. I called my ride and told him to pick me up along expo blvd.
Soon my Jeep pulled up.
When I climbed inside I burried my head in my friend's shoulder and didn't speak. I didn't know if I should explain my pissy mood, cry, or just be relieved that nothing bad could possibly happen now.
I picked the latter of the 3, at first... then I felt like I needed to explain my sucky attitude. I gave him the coles notes version.
Then I said something that shocked me.
"I'm so used to being in a strip club where men know better than to touch me. They buy me drinks, offer polite idle chit chat and are on their best behaviour most of the time. Because they know that the moment they touch me the bouncer will destroy them. You'd expect men to be creeps and freaks at the strip club but it's the men at the "real" clubs you have to watch out for."
what a wild discovery! For years my family and friends have heard me complain about the worst case scenarios in the strip clubs but relistically There's one bad egg/week, and I''m well protected. I was blown away by the amount of bad eggs in this one club. And all of them... getting away with it.

Making babies so my mom will be happy

My heart broke a lil tonight. Mallory, my friend of 23 years is getting married. 23 years ago we would daydream about getting married And  having kids. We picked out their names at least a hundred times.  We were in the same ballet classes, swimming lessons, we would spend our weekends catching frogs in the creek by the old cemetery. when my dad bought me my first car I drove straight to her house to show her first! And then again with my second and third cars.  We would hang out all day then rush home to call each other. True BFFs Today I got her wedding invitation. I guess this means I'm really a grown up now. I'm the last one standing. Growing up it was always Mallory, Yvonne and myself. The 3 teachers kids stuck playing together while our parents worked on their classrooms. We were kinda forced into being friends. And thank god we were. Now Yvonne is awaiting the arrival of her second baby. She was married in '08. She's a teacher just like our moms. She's happily repeating the live we all know so well. Mallory was the pretty one she had the popular friends and was invites to all the parties. She smoked and drank before Yvonne and I had the guts to even think for ourselves about such things. everyone loved Mallory.  She's travelled all over. Her boyfriends always spoiled her rotten. Or so it seemed.  Now she's off to Marty the boy who has and will continue to bend over backwards for her. She's lucky. It's all she's ever dreamed. I'll cry so hard at her wedding.  Then there's me. Happily divorced, no kids, bouncing all over the world seeking adventure and opportunity to just do something better than the day before. Hopelessly seeking a partner in crime. It's dawned on me recently that all I ever hoped for and dreamed of was getting married and having kids. That the only future I was taught. That what I've been told is expected of me. Success is almost synonymous with creating the perfect nuclear family.  And we can't forget the supportive words of my mother (and many others) "when am I gonna have grand babies?" So intense  is the pressure for me for reproduce so that my family will be happy. It's not just them causing me to feel pressured, it's mostly me. It's all I ever expected out of life cause it's the only form Of success I was taught Everyone whispered about my aunt who never had children. Finally when she married and her step children had babies, she was a grandma and everyone approved.  When I was 5 I decided that I would have to have kids by 30.  Well it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I told My mom I could get knocked up by one of the Hollywood hunks I've been casually humping. Get some Handsome genetics and a non existent father. But my mom shot down that idea reinforced that I must be married and no grandchild if hers will be fatherless. Ugh So back to square one. Success is still very much measured by the same old standard the my mom , grannie and great grannie had to meet.  Get married, stays married and have babies. Sorry to disappoint But it's almost my 29th birthday.y window to fall in love, get married and make babies is shrinking. I'm pretty strict about my 30 year old deadline. I just want to be young enough to be active in my kids life for as long as possible. After almost losing my mom and dad when i was 14 I have this Terrible fear of dying.  I don't Want to have kids so late in my life that my chances of being here are shortened anymore than they have to be.  So I have exactly 4 months by those standards, so fall in love, get married and get knocked up.  I'm a dreamer! I believe anything is possible! And even I don't see any of this happening in the next 4 months. So I guess I better figure out what I'm doing with the rest of my life. Next week I'm flying across the country to hosts a punk festival only to come back to something like 23 bookings in 28 days. Comedy shows, modeling, hosting, DJing, filming, I'll be hitting the ground running. I'll be in Toronto, Vancouver and Vegas and that's just the next 6 weeks. My life isn't lacking excitement. It's obviously amazing!!! I am so excited about the crazy things I get to do! Each one is more exciting than the previous adventure. But this is not what I was taught is successful. So I feel like a disappointment. I love my life, my jobs, and all the crazy opportunities I get. I wish people would stop telling me that I'm missing out by not having a family of my own. Stop telling me my life is unfulfilled. I was so happy till you told me I shouldn't be. I wonder if you're right or if it's just the crab box effect at work again