Post by BLAKE EMMA PARKER on Apr 28, 2014 21:23:52 GMT -5
Blake hummed quietly to herself as she finished placing the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. Dylan was coming over later and she hated not having treats for him when he came to visit. She picked up her coffee mug, making her into her office where her assistant was going through some paperwork, finalizing interviews since she was heading out for tour in t-minus twelve days. Blake tapped her fingers against the side of her mug as she walked up the stairs. She and Thayer had gotten into a ‘fight’ a few days prior. Blake was buckling a bit under the pressure from the label, and Thayer seemed agitated at her for going with a track that sold more of the labels image than her own, which she had never done before. But she was just getting so tired of fighting the label, that on this one it just felt like, why not? And even though it hadn’t been a fight between a couple, it did feel like the most overwhelming fight she’d ever had – at least, the one that at least meant something. They weren’t fighting over a missed dinner plan, or whether or not he was flirting with a pretty girl at a party. They were fighting over her artistic integrity, and that seemed more genuine than anything else.
With that on her mind she had written down lyrics for a song about what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone like that and to as a result have a fight with them. Stay,Stay,Stay, was going to be added to her album as soon as she finished recording it the next day. But the deal was that Thayer wasn’t allowed to hear the album. These feelings she had for him kept confusing her more than anything, and honestly in her mind it seemed like if she was going to admit to feeling something for him, it would be better if he didn’t hear it until she was already gone. Then she could at least figure her own stuff out without having to bother him. It all made sense in her mind. Blake set the chocolate chip cookie next to her assistant before narrowing her eyebrows and tilting her head. “ What is that?” she questioned, noticing the headline on the article that her assistant was reading. But quickly the young girl was clicking out of the program and exiting out of a lot of stuff. Now, there were probably about five new rumors a day made up about Blake. The only ones that made it to her very desk were ones that would result in being asked about it in interviews. No one bothered to ask Blake if she was pregnant, those were irrelevant. Sometimes she got asked if she was dating high profiled football players or musicians, actors, etc. But other than that nothing ‘google’ related ever crossed Blake’s path. She avoided it like the plague. But now that she had seen the headline, she was intrigued.
Blake set her coffee cup down, “ Pull that back up,” she said, moving the skirt of her dress as she down in the office chair and pulled herself closer to the laptop. Her eyebrows narrowed as she read the title aloud. “ Blake Parker Has Hollywood Hotties Fleeing,” Blake scoffed as she leaned in closer to the computer, reading the article like her life depended on it. “ Oh my god,” Blake said, resting her arms on the counter. Article, after article, after article about how she had “dated half of Hollywood” and how every relationship had failed and how she must be the problem. Articles on how terrible her music was, which was ridiculous to Blake because how many Entertainer of the Year awards did she have on her shelf right now from different music scenes? Blake couldn’t tear herself away from the computer, disgusted with herself from the perspective of other people. Blake closed her eyes, resting her face in her hands as she tried to fight the tears. But it all came rushing over her. She couldn’t step outside without looking perfect, lights were flashing in her face all the time. She couldn’t go into a store without stopping to talk to every person and ALWAYS be Mary-Frikkin-Poppins. She couldn’t talk back to the paparazzi as they yelled at her how terrible she was, asked her about the latest actor she was ‘screwing’. She couldn’t stop them from endangering her own life, and the lives of people she cared about, when they flew down the highway to chase down her car.
Blake couldn’t stop her label and how they wanted her image to be, how they wanted her to dress and act, how they wanted her to ‘change’. She would admit that she was growing mature and with that could be a more mature look, but to what end? Blake sat up, brushing the tears away from her face. Failed relationships and it was all her fault? All she wrote about was breakup songs? Fourteen year old girls writing on their laptops about how she should just go kill herself? Did they even understand how much she had to go through to put out music that nine out of ten of them sang to themselves in their bedroom? To go through all of that, and then still have this squeaky clean image and smile like she was living in a world of rainbows and butterflies? It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. And now, three hours later, she was continuing to find more and more articles depicting how terrible she was. And maybe they were right. All she wanted to do was make music, but at what price?
It was a little after nine p.m., when Dylan arrived. And surely the scene he walked in on was one he hadn’t anticipated. Blake had scoured and gone out into town, buying every gossip magazine. She’d printed out maybe fifty different articles from the computer, and everything was spread out on the floor with a different color post it note for each different reason as to why she was terrible. She’d taken the cardboard cutout from her last tour of herself and attached post it notes to every piece of her body that her label wanted her to change. As of now, she had changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, her hair up in the messiest of all ponytails on the side of her head. Every article basically said the same thing, she wrote too much about breakups, she was pathetic, and she was the reason for all of the relationships ending in her ‘long skew’ of relationships. But Blake didn’t think she had dated more people than anyone else her age; they just weren’t living in the spotlight. So here, on this fine night, she was going to figure out what exactly was wrong with her that was causing all of this turmoil in her life that people felt was so annoying that they had to personally comment on it.
When Blake heard the door open, she looked up, setting her wine glass down and stood up in the middle of her own chaos as Dylan came into the room. She didn’t even have time to take in a complete breath before she broke into tears. They kept telling her that any girl would want to trade places with her. They kept telling her that any girl would want to date the men she had dated. They kept telling her that every girl would want to travel the world. They told her to stay on her toes, because another girl would come and take her spot in the light as soon as they could. They didn’t tell her that everyone would hate her. They didn’t tell her that every flaw she had she would have to try and hide. They didn’t tell her that even when you didn’t have a flaw, the tabloids would just make one up. They didn’t tell her that they would scream at you from the shadows to get a reaction shot. They didn’t tell you that everyone would turn on you the second that they felt they couldn’t get anything from you. Blake tried to catch her breath from her tears before she wrapped her arms around Dylan into a tight hug. Blake had always been proud of herself for writing her own music ; and unfortunately for everyone else apparently, what she wrote about was her life. And seeing as how she was a young woman, her life right now was about the different relationships she had. It wasn’t her fault that she loved the idea of love and wanted to find the person to spend the rest of her life with. She was open to giving people chances and suddenly that meant she was poison for relationships in Hollywood. “ They keep telling me I’m lucky,”she said through the sobs as she held on tightly to Dylan.
With that on her mind she had written down lyrics for a song about what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone like that and to as a result have a fight with them. Stay,Stay,Stay, was going to be added to her album as soon as she finished recording it the next day. But the deal was that Thayer wasn’t allowed to hear the album. These feelings she had for him kept confusing her more than anything, and honestly in her mind it seemed like if she was going to admit to feeling something for him, it would be better if he didn’t hear it until she was already gone. Then she could at least figure her own stuff out without having to bother him. It all made sense in her mind. Blake set the chocolate chip cookie next to her assistant before narrowing her eyebrows and tilting her head. “ What is that?” she questioned, noticing the headline on the article that her assistant was reading. But quickly the young girl was clicking out of the program and exiting out of a lot of stuff. Now, there were probably about five new rumors a day made up about Blake. The only ones that made it to her very desk were ones that would result in being asked about it in interviews. No one bothered to ask Blake if she was pregnant, those were irrelevant. Sometimes she got asked if she was dating high profiled football players or musicians, actors, etc. But other than that nothing ‘google’ related ever crossed Blake’s path. She avoided it like the plague. But now that she had seen the headline, she was intrigued.
Blake set her coffee cup down, “ Pull that back up,” she said, moving the skirt of her dress as she down in the office chair and pulled herself closer to the laptop. Her eyebrows narrowed as she read the title aloud. “ Blake Parker Has Hollywood Hotties Fleeing,” Blake scoffed as she leaned in closer to the computer, reading the article like her life depended on it. “ Oh my god,” Blake said, resting her arms on the counter. Article, after article, after article about how she had “dated half of Hollywood” and how every relationship had failed and how she must be the problem. Articles on how terrible her music was, which was ridiculous to Blake because how many Entertainer of the Year awards did she have on her shelf right now from different music scenes? Blake couldn’t tear herself away from the computer, disgusted with herself from the perspective of other people. Blake closed her eyes, resting her face in her hands as she tried to fight the tears. But it all came rushing over her. She couldn’t step outside without looking perfect, lights were flashing in her face all the time. She couldn’t go into a store without stopping to talk to every person and ALWAYS be Mary-Frikkin-Poppins. She couldn’t talk back to the paparazzi as they yelled at her how terrible she was, asked her about the latest actor she was ‘screwing’. She couldn’t stop them from endangering her own life, and the lives of people she cared about, when they flew down the highway to chase down her car.
Blake couldn’t stop her label and how they wanted her image to be, how they wanted her to dress and act, how they wanted her to ‘change’. She would admit that she was growing mature and with that could be a more mature look, but to what end? Blake sat up, brushing the tears away from her face. Failed relationships and it was all her fault? All she wrote about was breakup songs? Fourteen year old girls writing on their laptops about how she should just go kill herself? Did they even understand how much she had to go through to put out music that nine out of ten of them sang to themselves in their bedroom? To go through all of that, and then still have this squeaky clean image and smile like she was living in a world of rainbows and butterflies? It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. And now, three hours later, she was continuing to find more and more articles depicting how terrible she was. And maybe they were right. All she wanted to do was make music, but at what price?
It was a little after nine p.m., when Dylan arrived. And surely the scene he walked in on was one he hadn’t anticipated. Blake had scoured and gone out into town, buying every gossip magazine. She’d printed out maybe fifty different articles from the computer, and everything was spread out on the floor with a different color post it note for each different reason as to why she was terrible. She’d taken the cardboard cutout from her last tour of herself and attached post it notes to every piece of her body that her label wanted her to change. As of now, she had changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, her hair up in the messiest of all ponytails on the side of her head. Every article basically said the same thing, she wrote too much about breakups, she was pathetic, and she was the reason for all of the relationships ending in her ‘long skew’ of relationships. But Blake didn’t think she had dated more people than anyone else her age; they just weren’t living in the spotlight. So here, on this fine night, she was going to figure out what exactly was wrong with her that was causing all of this turmoil in her life that people felt was so annoying that they had to personally comment on it.
When Blake heard the door open, she looked up, setting her wine glass down and stood up in the middle of her own chaos as Dylan came into the room. She didn’t even have time to take in a complete breath before she broke into tears. They kept telling her that any girl would want to trade places with her. They kept telling her that any girl would want to date the men she had dated. They kept telling her that every girl would want to travel the world. They told her to stay on her toes, because another girl would come and take her spot in the light as soon as they could. They didn’t tell her that everyone would hate her. They didn’t tell her that every flaw she had she would have to try and hide. They didn’t tell her that even when you didn’t have a flaw, the tabloids would just make one up. They didn’t tell her that they would scream at you from the shadows to get a reaction shot. They didn’t tell you that everyone would turn on you the second that they felt they couldn’t get anything from you. Blake tried to catch her breath from her tears before she wrapped her arms around Dylan into a tight hug. Blake had always been proud of herself for writing her own music ; and unfortunately for everyone else apparently, what she wrote about was her life. And seeing as how she was a young woman, her life right now was about the different relationships she had. It wasn’t her fault that she loved the idea of love and wanted to find the person to spend the rest of her life with. She was open to giving people chances and suddenly that meant she was poison for relationships in Hollywood. “ They keep telling me I’m lucky,”she said through the sobs as she held on tightly to Dylan.
