Status: Finally updating.
7 years from now
Intro
February 13, 2018.
8:30 am
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. I answer it; it’s my manager, Marcia.
“Today you are really busy, busy, busy. Get up, dress well. You have an interview with Seventeen, and you’re on Leno tonight. You’ll be performing on his show along with promoting the new record. Don’t screw up. Now go get ready, the chauffeur will be there in 90 minutes.”
Oh how I love her, note my sarcasm. I get up, grab leggings and a day dress, and shower. I had cereal in the kitchen, brushed my teeth, and I heard honking outside. “Shut up, Avery! I’m coming!,” Avery was my driver. And I hated limos, so he drove my Prius. “Okay! I’m good” I say as I run out the door with my purse. Avery was fun. He was really old, so he had a really messed up mind and he laughed at the oddest things. Marcia thinks I should fire him. She thinks he’s a nut. He is, but I love him anyway.
“To Seventeen HQ. Q is a funny letter, hee hee…Do you like butter pecan ice cream, missus? I love it. It’s creamy.” That was typical Avery speak. Always something random and he never really expected an answer.
10:00 am
“So Brandi, your single, Her Face, has been flying of the sales racks, do you think that has anything to do with the rumors of you, Luke Benward, and Bella Thorne? They say that you’re jealous of their relationship, and this song is about being jealous of another girl.” says the reporter.
“It’s not possible for this song to be about that, though it is about me being jealous. I wrote this song in 8Th grade. I was jealous of my friend. Everyone loved her, and I always felt left out. I guess I owe her for my success now, don’t I?” I fake-smile at her and end my statement. I hate interviews. They analyze my every word. It’s so easy so make an issue out of nothing here. Los Angeles is a brutal city.
1:00 pm
The interview was finally over. I’m glad it is. That woman would not be quiet. Right now, I’m sitting in the car with Avery. We’re driving home so I can eat, shower (again) and change. I feel so tired. I feel like I dragged Mount Everest all the way to the East Coast. I’m just glad that I can now enjoy silence. Avery is done with his odd rambles, the interview is over, there isn’t any traffic, and- nevermind.
“What do you want Marcia?” My phone had broken my peace.
“Where are you? What are you doing? Are you busy?” She went on with more questions, frantic.
“Whoa, slow down. I’m in the car on my way home. then I’m going to chill until 5, then I’ll get ready for Leno. So I’m not busy really, but I’m ravenous.” I stated calmly, hoping that it would rub off on her.
“Right now, tell Avery to go to the studio! You and Rise Against are recording a song. They have lyrics and music ready and they want you in it. It’s good, too. You’ll love it, but they’re leaving for Ireland tomorrow. You can pick up food on the way here. Do you want to hear the song? Here, I’ll play it. They had Tim’s wife sing your part, but she isn’t very good.” She was really excited. This could be fun. I like Rise Against, Tim McIlrath is an awesome singer. They don’t do collaborations much, so they much really want me. Okay, now I’m excited too.
“Avery, to the studio! It’s an emergency, wait go to Goodtimes first! I want fries!”
“Will these fries be French? Aren’t you French? You’ll be eating yourself miss! You’re very salty.” That was new. I don’t think he’s called me salty yet.
2:00 pm
As I eat my fries, the band is tuning their instruments and Avery is sitting in the corner eating frozen custard. He’s never had the stuff apparently.
“Brandi, come here. Don’t you have to warm up?” That’s Tim. He’s spent the last 15 minutes gargling salt water, doing warm ups, and reading over his lyrics. He’s so old fashioned.
“Mo! I mever marm uf! I doe nee fu!” I try to say, but am unsuccessful because of the copious of amount of salty potato-y goodness in my mouth.
“Go warm up! Don’t make me come over there! I will confiscate your fries, Missy!” says Marcia. She’s much too similar to my mom. It scares me sometimes. I warm up, then we all go into the sound booth. I’m not used to having so many people in here. It’s usually just me and James, my guitarist. We had to let him go. The industry thought I would be better on my own. I’m used to being alone now.
The music began to play and I looked at my lyrics. I had read the sheet music for it earlier, so all I needed was words now. Tim started to sing, and I joined at my cue. “You can’t spell life without lie,” Marcia and Avery were sitting outside smiling, so I’m assuming it sounds okay. “so don’t be deceived. It’s not perfect.” We sang, our notes dancing in a waltz of harmonies and rhythms. “Waking up alone with tears on my face,” I’m in my zone, “and he’s gone again, to some other love!” and suddenly reality started again as the music stops.
7:00 pm
I had just ended my talk with Mr.Jay Leno. I was now standing on a stage with my rocker dress and dark makeup in front of his audience. This was just like a concert, except most of the fans would be on their couches at home watching me. I was still jittery from my session with Rise Against. We had a great time, and our song would be on their next CD.
“Now singing her new song, Love This, Jinx!”
The music started and I closed my eyes. I imagined my brothers and sisters. I imagined them sitting right in front of me, smiles on all of their faces. Hailey and Payton would be wearing matching clothes, Ralphie and Jeremiah would be hitting each other every few minutes. Erika would be sitting far from the others, staring right up at me, her eyes gleaming. Adrian would be sitting in the middle with his cell phone in his hand, and his girlfriend would be on the other end, listening. I began.
“Love this life,
Hold on tight,
We’ll be alright.
you just have to fight.”
I could hear screams of the lyrics in the crowd, and I imagined that my sibling were all staring in awe. I could feel the vibrations of the music in the the floorboards. My ears hurt, but it was pleasant because it was music.
“Can you hear me,
Can you hear me?
I am Screaming
Will you save me, will you save me?
I’m not breathing (so fight for me)”
I was belting out the words, and nearly screaming. I was lost in my own passion. I was being swallowed whole by the song. The audience was jumping, creating a ‘thump, thump, thump’ pattern that matched exactly with the beat of my heart
“Fight! Fight for our freedom
Fight! protect your kingdom
Fight, you know we can beat ‘em
You just have to hold on”
The melodies were swirling around my head, and I could see blurred versions of people, all of those colors blurring into one massive aura.
“But when you’re holding on,
You can’t run
Love can’t be undone
It’s a game that’s no fun”
I danced across the stage, seemingly high off of the energy of the crowd. This happened every time. I high-fived fans along the stage, one of them not wanting to let me go, and I laughed.
“Can you catch me,
Can you catch me?
I am falling
Will you hold me
Will you hold me?
I’m saying my last words (Fight for me)”
The words were second nature. the hardest part of performing was control. I had no control left, no free will. I had to let the music take lead.
“Fight! Fight for your freedom
Fight! Protect our kingdom
Fight, I know you can beat ‘em.
So I'm Holding on”
I was so lost. I forgot where I was, who I was singing to, what my name was. All that mattered was the music. Music was power, and it was so raw, not everyone could handle this.
“Fight for, Fight for, Fight for, Fight for me.
Fight for, Fight for, Fight for, Fight for.....
Me.”
Now I could breathe again. The crowd was cheering, and my imaginary family were giving a standing ovation. I bowed, my hair flipping over my head. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, and laughed. Happiness and energy still radiated throughout the room, and it made me ecstatic. I loved performing like that. I loved every part of it. Singing was my life, and I wouldn’t ever give it up.
8:30 am
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. I answer it; it’s my manager, Marcia.
“Today you are really busy, busy, busy. Get up, dress well. You have an interview with Seventeen, and you’re on Leno tonight. You’ll be performing on his show along with promoting the new record. Don’t screw up. Now go get ready, the chauffeur will be there in 90 minutes.”
Oh how I love her, note my sarcasm. I get up, grab leggings and a day dress, and shower. I had cereal in the kitchen, brushed my teeth, and I heard honking outside. “Shut up, Avery! I’m coming!,” Avery was my driver. And I hated limos, so he drove my Prius. “Okay! I’m good” I say as I run out the door with my purse. Avery was fun. He was really old, so he had a really messed up mind and he laughed at the oddest things. Marcia thinks I should fire him. She thinks he’s a nut. He is, but I love him anyway.
“To Seventeen HQ. Q is a funny letter, hee hee…Do you like butter pecan ice cream, missus? I love it. It’s creamy.” That was typical Avery speak. Always something random and he never really expected an answer.
10:00 am
“So Brandi, your single, Her Face, has been flying of the sales racks, do you think that has anything to do with the rumors of you, Luke Benward, and Bella Thorne? They say that you’re jealous of their relationship, and this song is about being jealous of another girl.” says the reporter.
“It’s not possible for this song to be about that, though it is about me being jealous. I wrote this song in 8Th grade. I was jealous of my friend. Everyone loved her, and I always felt left out. I guess I owe her for my success now, don’t I?” I fake-smile at her and end my statement. I hate interviews. They analyze my every word. It’s so easy so make an issue out of nothing here. Los Angeles is a brutal city.
1:00 pm
The interview was finally over. I’m glad it is. That woman would not be quiet. Right now, I’m sitting in the car with Avery. We’re driving home so I can eat, shower (again) and change. I feel so tired. I feel like I dragged Mount Everest all the way to the East Coast. I’m just glad that I can now enjoy silence. Avery is done with his odd rambles, the interview is over, there isn’t any traffic, and- nevermind.
“What do you want Marcia?” My phone had broken my peace.
“Where are you? What are you doing? Are you busy?” She went on with more questions, frantic.
“Whoa, slow down. I’m in the car on my way home. then I’m going to chill until 5, then I’ll get ready for Leno. So I’m not busy really, but I’m ravenous.” I stated calmly, hoping that it would rub off on her.
“Right now, tell Avery to go to the studio! You and Rise Against are recording a song. They have lyrics and music ready and they want you in it. It’s good, too. You’ll love it, but they’re leaving for Ireland tomorrow. You can pick up food on the way here. Do you want to hear the song? Here, I’ll play it. They had Tim’s wife sing your part, but she isn’t very good.” She was really excited. This could be fun. I like Rise Against, Tim McIlrath is an awesome singer. They don’t do collaborations much, so they much really want me. Okay, now I’m excited too.
“Avery, to the studio! It’s an emergency, wait go to Goodtimes first! I want fries!”
“Will these fries be French? Aren’t you French? You’ll be eating yourself miss! You’re very salty.” That was new. I don’t think he’s called me salty yet.
2:00 pm
As I eat my fries, the band is tuning their instruments and Avery is sitting in the corner eating frozen custard. He’s never had the stuff apparently.
“Brandi, come here. Don’t you have to warm up?” That’s Tim. He’s spent the last 15 minutes gargling salt water, doing warm ups, and reading over his lyrics. He’s so old fashioned.
“Mo! I mever marm uf! I doe nee fu!” I try to say, but am unsuccessful because of the copious of amount of salty potato-y goodness in my mouth.
“Go warm up! Don’t make me come over there! I will confiscate your fries, Missy!” says Marcia. She’s much too similar to my mom. It scares me sometimes. I warm up, then we all go into the sound booth. I’m not used to having so many people in here. It’s usually just me and James, my guitarist. We had to let him go. The industry thought I would be better on my own. I’m used to being alone now.
The music began to play and I looked at my lyrics. I had read the sheet music for it earlier, so all I needed was words now. Tim started to sing, and I joined at my cue. “You can’t spell life without lie,” Marcia and Avery were sitting outside smiling, so I’m assuming it sounds okay. “so don’t be deceived. It’s not perfect.” We sang, our notes dancing in a waltz of harmonies and rhythms. “Waking up alone with tears on my face,” I’m in my zone, “and he’s gone again, to some other love!” and suddenly reality started again as the music stops.
7:00 pm
I had just ended my talk with Mr.Jay Leno. I was now standing on a stage with my rocker dress and dark makeup in front of his audience. This was just like a concert, except most of the fans would be on their couches at home watching me. I was still jittery from my session with Rise Against. We had a great time, and our song would be on their next CD.
“Now singing her new song, Love This, Jinx!”
The music started and I closed my eyes. I imagined my brothers and sisters. I imagined them sitting right in front of me, smiles on all of their faces. Hailey and Payton would be wearing matching clothes, Ralphie and Jeremiah would be hitting each other every few minutes. Erika would be sitting far from the others, staring right up at me, her eyes gleaming. Adrian would be sitting in the middle with his cell phone in his hand, and his girlfriend would be on the other end, listening. I began.
“Love this life,
Hold on tight,
We’ll be alright.
you just have to fight.”
I could hear screams of the lyrics in the crowd, and I imagined that my sibling were all staring in awe. I could feel the vibrations of the music in the the floorboards. My ears hurt, but it was pleasant because it was music.
“Can you hear me,
Can you hear me?
I am Screaming
Will you save me, will you save me?
I’m not breathing (so fight for me)”
I was belting out the words, and nearly screaming. I was lost in my own passion. I was being swallowed whole by the song. The audience was jumping, creating a ‘thump, thump, thump’ pattern that matched exactly with the beat of my heart
“Fight! Fight for our freedom
Fight! protect your kingdom
Fight, you know we can beat ‘em
You just have to hold on”
The melodies were swirling around my head, and I could see blurred versions of people, all of those colors blurring into one massive aura.
“But when you’re holding on,
You can’t run
Love can’t be undone
It’s a game that’s no fun”
I danced across the stage, seemingly high off of the energy of the crowd. This happened every time. I high-fived fans along the stage, one of them not wanting to let me go, and I laughed.
“Can you catch me,
Can you catch me?
I am falling
Will you hold me
Will you hold me?
I’m saying my last words (Fight for me)”
The words were second nature. the hardest part of performing was control. I had no control left, no free will. I had to let the music take lead.
“Fight! Fight for your freedom
Fight! Protect our kingdom
Fight, I know you can beat ‘em.
So I'm Holding on”
I was so lost. I forgot where I was, who I was singing to, what my name was. All that mattered was the music. Music was power, and it was so raw, not everyone could handle this.
“Fight for, Fight for, Fight for, Fight for me.
Fight for, Fight for, Fight for, Fight for.....
Me.”
Now I could breathe again. The crowd was cheering, and my imaginary family were giving a standing ovation. I bowed, my hair flipping over my head. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, and laughed. Happiness and energy still radiated throughout the room, and it made me ecstatic. I loved performing like that. I loved every part of it. Singing was my life, and I wouldn’t ever give it up.
♠ ♠ ♠
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