Famous

There is a kid who gets constantly called nonsensical spinoffs of his name solely because it is hard to spell. Every day he goes home saddened and his faith in people stretched thin. He acts like it doesn’t hurt him, but it hurts inside. He walks by, eyes down, mouth closed and never turning, sometimes responding to their taunts. He asks them politely to stop, but they never do.

When this kid gets home he sits down and grabs his computer, his gateway to safety and happiness, where he doesn't get called a name that anyone with half a brain cell could come up with. He wants to be called by his name not some half inane and half nonsense name. He wants to be called Matthias not “ma-t*ts” or “ma-t*tties” for once, and forever on.

Brendan wakes up. A sigh, throw away the bed sheets, and my eyes focus softly to the morning light. Trip off the bed, grope around for a t-shirt, and as I pull it over my head there’s a knock on my second story window. I peek out of the shirt, and there’s a man with a camera, crouched there, lens almost pressed against the dirty glass of the window. I freeze, and stand there like a deer in the headlights, as he pulls off a rapid salvo of shots, before i come to my senses. "WHA-" I drop to the floor, cover my face, and then peek out again. There is a man with another, larger camera climbing up to the window now, and I quickly duck out of my room.

The stairs creak in the awkward silence that I am experiencing. There are  men, taking pictures of me, and then my mind stalls and slowly reboots. I almost fall the rest of the way down the stairs, and stumble to the phone where the answering machine with 58 (WHAT) messages beeps angrily. I quickly shut the blinds, lock the door, and fire up my laptop on the kitchen counter. The Google homepage is a giant picture of my face. I scroll over it, and "celebrating Brendan Geiger, newfound billionaire and global entrepreneur" pops up. I franticly open a new tab. The New York Times is covering a biography of me, front page, detailing a sudden rise to international fame.  Front page of Time is my face, my name is blazoned across television screens, billboards, websites.  Another mini stroke, a flutter of heart palpitations, and I let my head hit against the counter.  It echoes hollowly in the silent room.  Outside, beyond the amber shades, a vehicle of some sort pulls into our drive. 
  Read more »

I woke up yesterday morning
Some random person walked in the door
She had a tray with bacon and eggs on it
"Who are you?"
"What do you mean? I'm your servant."
"I don't have a servant!?"
"Are you feeling ok?"
No
I was not feeling OK
I was feeling like that creepy person,
with my least favorite foods on a breakfast tray,
should get out of my house.
"GET OUT OF  MY HOUSE!!!!!"
"o-o-ok!"
she ran out the door
I heard someone in the next room talking
"I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's acting a bit strange"
BANG BANG BANG
what was that?
a nail gun?
that's what it sounded like
I then realized there was something different about my room
I tried to get up.
WOAH. This bed is different.
MEMORYFOAM
I never had a memoryfoam bed before.
Now I knew what it felt like
------I went back to sleep---------
I woke up again.
same memoryfoam bed
same different room
same creepy servant at the door...
"GO AWAY"
what's going on
what happened?
I got up.
I looked up,
I looked down
WOOOAAAAHH!
I was shocked there for a moment.
I was standing on air.
NO
I was standing on a clear glass floor.
That's different.
I thought I had a wood floor.
Glass walls!
Is everything here glass?
something?
NO
everything!
"THIS ISN'T MY ROOM"
wow.
that came out louder than I though it would
"No. This is my room."
Read more »

I did it! I am famous!

They know of who I am,

they all know me.

All those people,

those people may be disgusted.

No! They can’t be, I am famous,

they see me everywhere. 

I am on the covers of the magazines,

I am on the front page of the Sunday papers!

I am famous. I knew that this would happen,

I knew.

She is what started it, of course.

She is my hero,

she, she made me famous,

to the people that I will never see.

If she was still picking not pushing the daisies,

if I hadn’t seen her, I wouldn’t have gotten this publicity.

Is this any way to treat a celebrity?

I am uncomfortable, in this small white room.

Who is that person in the mirror? I smile at him.

He is ruthless, he is the manipulative demon.

I would like to meet him. I am not that man, am I?

He is the man on the covers of Time, and People.

He the man that everyone knows. I am him.

I am famous! But what is this man doing in that room?

I am not that man, I am looking at that man. Am I?

Maybe this fame wasn’t worth it.

I am here, in this room, away from everyone and anyone.

They don’t need to be with me,

they just need to know me,

and indeed they do.

It only took sticks and stones to break her bones,

to make my fame come to me.

Overnight, one day, they know who I am.

They know who he is.

The man in the mirror, but they know who she was.

Did I just steal her fame?

I couldn’t have, they know me,

they hate me.

No, they love me!

hey can’t get enough of hearing of me!

I am famous! I am the one, Read more »

The bright, white lights flashed on with a clunk, flooding the space.
I found myself in the middle of a black room.
I felt like I had been there before.
Long ago
Or in a dream.
Or another life,
If you believe in that sort of stuff.
Black walls.
Black ceiling.
Black floor.
I saw black everywhere,
Making the light even whiter.
I found myself wearing a white lace dress I had never seen before.
It was right that the dress was white,
Because it matched the light.
I stood out from the black around me.
Vulnerability
Filled me.
I was sitting on the hard, cold black floor.
But the warmth of the light flooded my body,
Around me like a safety net.
Comfort overpowered vulnerability.
I felt a sense of belonging.
I can’t remember how I got there or where I was but it didn’t matter then.
As my eyes adjusted I began to see faces,
Hundreds of them just beyond the light.
I knew what I should do.
I had done it before
Maybe.
Had I?
I’m not sure.
It felt right so
I push the hard, cold, black floor away and stood.
My strength returned.
Stepping forward I scanned the faces,
Each one was blank and cold.
There was no love in their eyes.
The lights were warm on my body but the faces cannot feel it.
The drafts out there chilled them to the bones,
They were hard and stern and weathered.
I opened my mouth but no sound came out.
I tried again to no luck.
Suddenly music began.
It was a pretty tune.
Familiar
Somehow.
It reminded me of rainy spring days, the smell of wet concrete.
Purple flowers hiding in emerald grass.
A mountain landscape. Read more »

OMG. OMG, OMG, OMG! I am famous?! This is big. What am I going to do?! So many options. Buy a yacht, get my poodle a 1,000 dollar manicure. OMG. Great idea! Call Justin Beiber! Get a recording contract and sing like Rebecca Black?! OMG,Yes!!! Pay for a ton of paparazzi to come to my house and takes pictures of me?! OMG! Walk out of my house for once and actually feel wanted?! This. Is. The. Best! Front page cover on Teen Vogue, maybe a picture with Selena Gomez!? OMG. I am going to cry! Go to the mall and buy myself loads and loads of fashionable clothes! Yes! Buy some Coco-Chanel?! OMG. I should start my own perfume line! Call it... Um... Famousness!!! OMG, yes!! I am going to be better than everyone! Even Celo Green! OMG! Own my own talk show and say what it is like to be as cool as me?! So many cool things I can do now that I am famous! Or, am I getting full of myself? Like a lot of other I-am-too-cool-to-talk-to-you people do. I am famous... OMG...

I woke up not from my alarm clock, but from extremely loud screaming and yelling. I immediately got up to see what was happening. What sounded like 1,000 people behind the front door was actually 1,000 people behind the front door. They weren't cheering, they were shouting hateful protest at me. Some people were even crying. What was going on? I was no war criminal. I had done nothing wrong. I'm just your average 13-year-old kid. I closed and locked the door. Then I immediately turned on my iPod and looked at Facebook. I had 354 notifications. That's more notifications than I have Facebook friends. Over 100 people posted the same video on my wall. It was some dumb YouTube hit song. Wait a minute, it has my name on it! I hit play. It started out with a cool synthesizer intro. It was really catchy. All of a sudden, I started singing this awful, putrid vocal track. How could I have possibly made something this terrible? It was stuck in my head. I hated my own song. I couldn't even watch the whole thing, it was so bad. I went to the YouTube app. When I open up "most viewed", guess what video was number one? Of course, my video, with 80 million views. The only trade-off was that the video had 97% dislikes, 801,983 of them. I stared at the dimly-lit screen in disbelief. Why did it have to be me? This song was so bad, it made me want to flush my iPod down the toilet. The terrible song still played in my head.
"It's Fridayee, Fridayee, gotta get down on Fridayee..." Read more »

I wake up, stumbling out of bed. Only, it’s not my bed. It's not even my
room. I make my way to the bathroom, pulling myself up from the floor,
and I take a glance in the mirror. The face looking back isn’t one I
recognize. “Master Bruce, what will you be having for breakfast?” I jump; there is an
elderly man standing behind me with a kind smile on his face. I move
past him, hands sliding against the wall until something clicks from
within the wall. I stop, a section of the wall moves inward creating a
narrow passage; the walls are made of dark, wet stone. After a few brief
moments of brisk walking, the passage opens up into an expansive cave,
stretching outwards in all directions. On the wall opposite there are
many large monitors, flashing images of what looks like villains’
mugshots, underneath is the word “Apprehend”. To the right there is a
large glass case with about five suits in it. I move closer, realizing
that these aren’t just any suits; these suits have a black bat embossed
on the chest. I open the case slowly and slip on the suit with
remarkable ease, pulling the black, large-eared, mask down over my face.
Immediately, three words spring into my head and I let them out in a
low, raspy, voice, “I am Batman.”

I woke up yesterday morning

Some random person walked in the door

She had a tray with bacon and eggs on it

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm your servant."

"I don't have a servant!?"

"Are you feeling OK?"

No

I was not feeling OK

I was feeling like that creepy person,

with my least favorite foods on a breakfast tray,

should get out of my house.

"GET OUT OF  MY HOUSE!!!!!"

"o-o-ok!"

she ran out the door

I heard someone in the next room talking

"I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's acting a bit strange"

BANG BANG BANG

what was that?

a nail gun?

that's what it sounded like

I then realized there was something different about my room

I tried to get up.

WHOA. This bed is different.

MEMORY FOAM

I never had a memory foam bed before.

Now I knew what it felt like

------I went back to sleep---------

I woke up again.

same memory foam bed

same different room

same creepy servant at the door...

"GO AWAY"

what's going on

what happened?

I got up.

I looked up,

I looked down

WOOOAAAAHH!

I was shocked there for a moment.

I was standing on air.

NO

I was standing on a clear glass floor.

That's different.

I thought I had a wood floor.

Glass walls!

Is everything here glass?

something?

NO

everything!

"THIS ISN'T MY ROOM"

wow.

that came out louder than I though it would Read more »

It was just like any other day. I woke up, did my morning routine, and walked out the door to walk to school. That was when it changed from just any other day. I walked out the door and saw them all there. I did not know why they were there so I stepped back into my house and then looked outside because I thought I was imagining it all. They were still there so I sat down for a minute and then went outside again. I did this once more trying to wake up but they were still there. I told myself that I should just go, so I did.

On my way to school they came to me like flies to a light bulb. I was confused so I just kept walking but then they started to get in my way and so I started to jog a little. They kept following me and more and more arrived. I did not know what to do. The flashing from their bajillion-dollar-looking-cameras hurt my eyes. I had only been awake for an hour so I was still only half awake and their bright lights and loud questions were like jack hammers pounding into my head. I did not know if I liked being famous or not. Their great amount of attention was going to make me tremendously popular. But then, there was their obnoxious questions and flashy equipment (which were held by people I didn't know at all.)

I was almost to school and thought that once I got there they might go away so I started to run. Some of them ran with me, still shouting questions at me. Others jumped in their cars, driving on the road, flashing their cameras at me. I could see the school so I started to run faster. I ran faster and then glanced back and saw that they were like a swarm of mosquitoes coming after me. I ran up and saw that I was late because there was no one outside. I ran faster worried about being late but it was difficult with my backpack bouncing on my back. I could not take it because I could feel myself slowing down. I was panting as I ran up the stairs into the school. I felt like I was about to die. Read more »

          If I were to wake up famous one morning I would go out and buy an extremely nice and fancy suit. Then i would get a plane ticket to Las Vegas and hand out signatures to everyone that wanted one. Then I would go hang out with all of the famous people that i've always wanted to meet. Those people being Jim Carrey, Steve Carell, Rainn Wilson, Bill Murry, and Robin Williams.

          I would then buy an extremely fast car with all the money i have from being famous. I would then drive fast and dangerously around without having to worry about getting in trouble. Because everyone knows that if you're rich and famous you don't have to worry about getting in trouble. I could easily just buy my bail or bribe the judge.

          From there I would probably go to England, the best place in the whole world. I would meet with Arsenal FC and play some football with them. Maybe go to a few of their practaces. Then I would watch them play a game and win.

          Then I would probably go to a concert of Cage The Elephant or Kasabian then go to bed. The next I would probably do the same exact thing, and thats how I would live the rest of my life, unless I got bored. Then I would change up my schedual to make it more exciting.

          If I were to wake up famous one morning I would go out and buy an extremely nice and fancy suit. Then i would get a plane ticket to Las Vegas and hand out signatures to everyone that wanted one. Then I would go hang out with all of the famous people that i've always wanted to meet. Those people being Jim Carrey, Steve Carell, Rainn Wilson, Bill Murry, and Robin Williams.

          I would then buy an extremely fast car with all the money i have from being famous. I would then drive fast and dangerously around without having to worry about getting in trouble. Because everyone knows that if you're rich and famous you don't have to worry about getting in trouble. I could easily just buy my bail or bribe the judge.

          From there I would probably go to England, the best place in the whole world. I would meet with Arsenal FC and play some football with them. Maybe go to a few of their practaces. Then I would watch them play a game and win.

          Then I would probably go to a concert of Cage The Elephant or Kasabian then go to bed. The next I would probably do the same exact thing, and thats how I would live the rest of my life, unless I got bored. Then I would change up my schedual to make it more exciting.

Red carpet walking,
Hollywood star with my name it,
Cover of “People Magazine”,
My mansion,
Clothes and shoes,
“Is that?  OMG IT IS! “
Autographs and photos everywhere you go,
I wouldn’t mind it but…
I’d rather be out in my tree stand, hunting
Or by the lake, fishing
Hanging out with my friends,
Because I’m no girly girl,
I like my venison shot by me,
And my truck covered in mud,
Waking up to the rooster crowing,
Milking the cows before sunrise,
Gathering buckets, maple syrup,
Camping out under the stars,
Cause country girls have more fun!
 

"You are the winner of American Idol!", Ryan said. I won American Idol! I was so excited my heart was bumping out of my chest! Ryan asked me to play one more song, so I did. Lights, camera, clapping screaming.....I was famous! Leslie Mercetta, the famous winner of American Idol!

Wait. Did Ryan just...Oh, No! I'm not the winner! They just said, "Sorry, Miss Mercetta, but Tess Landroop is the winner". Has this happened before? Oh, no. I'm ruined. Get your facts straight, American Idol!

If I were to wake up tomorrow morning and found myself inexplicably famous I would first ask myself what I did to obtain this painful burden. Even though I have never actually been famous, or anywhere close for that matter, I already know it is not in my wishes. You will never see me wasting a moment blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, wishing my name was on the lips of more than the people I have allowed into my life, or those who have been kind enough to allow me into theirs. From what I have experienced in my short existence on this planet I am sure fame, and spending my life attempting to obtain it is a waste of my limited time and energy.
Fame is an odd situation in itself, paradoxical in many ways. One man can become famous because of something wonderful or magnificent he has accomplished, while another can become equally as famous due to the evils and atrocities he has committed. Granted no one in their right mind wishes to become the famous villain. It is human nature to strive to hold the position of, “good guy.” Everyone wants to be Batman for instance, always swooping in and saving the day, never the Joker holding the distressed damsel hostage. Although both personalities are famous, only one can receive the glory. I am willing to guess nearly all humans desire to be the hero, who emerges victorious, holding the girl in his arms, showered with glory by all in attendance. But I ask you reader, how can every single soul be the famous hero? The Joker cannot live without Batman, and Batman is just an average citizen of Gotham City without the Joker. It is true these two are mortal enemies, but they rely on one another to maintain the fame and attention they have grown accustomed to. In a modern society with many more Batman apprentices than Joker, fame and glory will likely come to a screeching halt. So much so that our view of a hero becomes skewed. Read more »

Fame.

Both a blessing and a curse,

both  a cancer and a cure,

it can be a boon,

and just as easily be a bane.

If, one day, I was stricken with this curse,

my first order of business,

would of course be to rid myself of it.

I would work as hard, and as fast,

as humanly possible to fit into a day,

to make sure this didn't last.

It's not that I don't like the idea,

I've fancied being known around the world,

in the most wildest of my dreams.

Being famous would just be too much pressure,

too much for me to handle all at once.

Too much would be expected of me,

and I honestly don't think I could deliver.

And at any rate, I'm no good with crowds,

small groups of people I know I can handle,

But get me in a room packed to the brim,

and I stutter and stammer faster

than any automatic machine gun.

My palms sweat, my heart races,

trying to compete with my incoherent thoughts.

I'm no attention seeker, impulsive yes,

but an attention seeker I am not.

For me, it's like a prescription drug,

useful in small, specific doses,

but take in too much at once,

and it's going to cause some major problems.

So for now I'll leave being famous to the professionals,

they seem to have a good idea about what to do.

Calm and collected, they can pull off a speech

to a stadium size audience without a hitch.

Maybe someday I'll work my way up the ladder,

first a classroom, then an auditorium,

and then finally a gym, but that's all.

I'd like to be noticed, to be recognized,

but not famous. Read more »

So, one day I wake up and I am famous for no reason that I can remember, but everyone wants to break down my door and rip off parts of my person, similar to the Beatles hysteria of the sixties. Camera crews are everywhere, I am on all of the local and national T.V. networks, but I am just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. Fame is a fickle creature. Some people would do anything to get it, others would rather stay as far away from it as possible. I am one of the latter. I would by no means embrace my new found fame. I would hide from it, punch every member of the paparazzi in the face, and end up hiding out in someone's basement. In short, it would be one of the most terrifying and harrowing experiences of my life.
I am naturally a quiet person. When I think of something funny, I usually end up telling one of my louder friends about it, and they repeat it to make everyone laugh. I do not deal well when it comes to meeting new people. Some may call me anti-social. I prefer the term introverted. Meeting new people means that I have to present something of myself to them in an effort to give them a good first impression, and choosing the right part to show is a pain. If you really want to know someone, a five minute conversation will not do it. I look at all of those in Hollywood who seamlessly project their persona every awards show they attend, and cannot fathom how it is done. Read more »

If I woke up one day and was inexplicably famous the first thing I would do is buy myself a yellow Camaro with black stripes down the center of the car. Then the first people I would call are my mom and dad. The way I would deal with the attention is I would  try to stay positive, no matter what.

Yesterday was just like any other day, I went to school, hung out with my friends, and played baseball until six. At home I eat dinner at seven; we eat the same thing we usually eat. I do an hour of homework, and then I go to bed at nine, because it is my little brother’s curfew. At night I have the same dreams, in that dream I am a terrorist and right before the Americans find me, I wake up. This morning was like no other, my brat of a brother was taking pictures of me waking up and uploading them to Facebook. During breakfast we like to watch the news and see if there is a cancellation. There was a guy that looked a lot like me on the news, I think they had a wanted sign on it, but I couldn’t see, because my mom turned it off because it was to violent for my brother. On the way to school we saw a bunch of helicopters in the air and a lot of cop cars were passing us. As we get closer to school I start to realize that the helicopters were hovering over the school and the cop cars were parked at the school. As I got out of the car, I felt like a celebrity, they were all waiting for me, I even had a police escort me through the crowd of people, what I didn’t know was that the police were taking me away, and were calling me a terrorist, they said I wouldn’t like it where I was headed. I wish that this was a dream and I could just wake up, but sadly this is reality and I am going away for a long time. I will be the most talked about person in Vermont and one of the most talked about names in the country for a little while, but this is not the type of fame I had in mind.

Waking up famous may sound great to some people. To the want to be actors and singers in this wonderful world, but to me, I see it as a trap. Full of unwanted letters, singing way my name on anything and everything, and non stop photos being taken of my personal life. I see media attacks and judgment by the world. to me being famous doesn’t sound like a day in the park. To me it sounds like a day I would be hiding in my house, until everyone left, until the mail stopped coming in and until the flashes stopped blinding me. 

                                                      Famous
    If one I wake up I become so famous, the first one I will contact is my mom. She is the most important person in the world for me, she always support me when I had hard time to go through this country. I want to buy a house for her, because I think for Chinese, if they have own a house means we really have a home. Be honest, I really do not want to anyone’s attention, because there is no point that I’m doing that, if I have real friends they still will be my friends, but if some people know I become famous they just want to use me to reach their goals, maybe I couldn’t help them. Also I would do some volunteer things, for example do some speech for teachers, because this country is starting to cut teachers positions, if I become famous that will be some people will spend time listen to me. But to be famous without doing anything, I think it’s only will happen in our dream, no pain no gain. I always believe this.
 

I smell bacon, pancakes, and warm maple syrup, the warm morning sun beats down on my face, through my sheets. I open my eyes and see the breath taking Utah mountains and take a deep breath, ahhh heven. Wait a second, “What is going on?”
“You’re rich and famous for the day.” replies a tall butler in the corner, “What would you like to do today?”
This is crazy, madness, and absultly amazing! Seeming I was looking at the “Greatest Snow on Earth” I would start off my day by going kat skiing in the backcountry.  After an amazing day of fresh powder, I would head off on a shopping spree, have a fancy dinner at a five star resterant, and finish the day by going to a marvelous ball with everyone who’s anyone, in Hollywood. Of couse I would fly from Utah to Hollywood in my very own privite jet. I would finish the night by walking up the streets of Califonia signing autographs to anyone who asked, smiling and waving at my fans. If I ran out of hours in the day I would simply pay to make the day even longer. A day famous would be the busiest, most exciting day ever.
 

Today I woke up famous. No explanation, no reason why. I turned on the news and pictures of me taken by paparazzi covered the screen. Confused doesn’t even begin to explain how I felt, or still do feel now. I called my best friend and asked her what was going on, but all she did was scream with excitement. I hung up before my eardrums burst. Then I called my mother. She went on and on about how proud she was that I had to hang up on her too because I couldn’t get a word in edge wise. No answers. Deciding to let it go for a little while, I went to go get dressed and eat breakfast.
As I ate the last bight of toast I looked out the window down onto the busy street. Paparazzi crowded the sidewalk trying to take pictures at me through the windows. I jumped up and closed the shades as quickly as possible hoping they couldn’t steel a shot. Then all of a sudden it hit me. Why was I hiding inside when there was a world of people outside who loved me (or at least I hoped that was why I was famous)? It was time for me to go out, go shopping, go to a museum, go anywhere and test my new “celebritiness”.
I looked in the mirror as I walked out the door and then headed down the two flights of stairs to the street. As soon as my foot hit the pavement I was surrounded. Flashes blinded me, microphones were jabbed in my face and what seemed like millions of pedestrians were screaming, pointing, smiling, genuinely excited.
I spent the rest of the day shopping at the hottest stores, eating out at the newest restaurants and meeting so many new people. I wasn’t sure if this would last through tomorrow but I sure like the attention. At the end of the day, after wading through crowds outside my apartment building I finally made it upstairs.
Today was a great day, and even if my famousness doesn’t last, I got a taste of a different life that I would have never known.

The Famous Me

If I were to become famous I would be overjoyed.
I would always stay humble and think of others in need,
I would stay close to the heart of my family and friends.
I would take nothing for granted and always see the big picture.
If I were to become famous I would remember who I am as a person,
and always lend a helping hand.
I would remember you don’t need everything you want,
and stay true to myself.
If I were to become famous I would probably freak out but, most importantly,
remember I am not the most important there’s a BIG world.

Red carpet walking
for a movie premiere or
for a celebrity birthday.
Getting your name on a Hollywood star,
thousands of people want a picture of it,
hundreds of people want to be you.
Cover of People magazine,
newest trend of Seventeen,
voted hottest by OK!
Autographs, photos,
posters and t-shirts.
I wouldn’t mind it.

One morning I wake up and see a newspaper on my bed. The headline reads "Best Young American Horse Rider in History!". I catch sight of my name in the article. I look out my window. A swarm of all kinds of people has formed around my house, some shouting, "Wake up!" or "Famous Girl!".  I rush out of bed and put on my riding clothes. I want to ride away! I have never had so much attention in my life! I ride to my friend's house. She tells me she would schedule a big riding event to ride in if she were me! I think about it and decide it's not a bad idea. I ride home to tell everybody. I don't want too much attention any more.

I want peace and quiet more than to be famous. I want to spend time with my friends more and riding more now. I really, to tell the truth, never wanted to be famous. There are too many important things to keep track of. To me it is like become the President all of a sudden. For someone as young as me it's something I'm not ready for.

The only thing I really want to do while I am famous is play with my friends and share my experience with others. I want to ride a lot more now but it is almost like I am trapped inside my home. The crowd has gotten larger now! I'm glad my friends would sill like me the same, famous or not! And, I like my friends as well, famous or not!

One day I woke up to the ringing of my cell phone-my cell phone? Since when did I have one, and an iphone at that! I am in a four poster bed. There is a high-tech super computer on the wall and a 72 inch plasma TV screen. Where am I? I didn't know that I had a pool....and why is my room all made of 5 inch thick glass?

I answer the iphone. "Hello?",  I say. A brisk female voice speaks on the other end. "Hello, Mr. Frost. I'm Jen Ackinton from the "New York Times". I was wondering if you could drop by the station today for an interview?" "Not meaning to be rude", I said, "but say WHAT?" She says, "Well!! Of all the impudence!",  and hangs up. I stare around. There is something on my dresser. I pick it up. It's a check. It says, made out to W.C. Frost Esquire, from Bank of America $70,000,000.00-------------

"70 Million Dollars!", I squeal. I get dressed and find my way downstairs. (The house is huge.) I call Mrs. Slayton and tell her all the mysterious happenings. "Funny...." she muses. "Rose, Jackson, Jackson, Sydney, Jacey, Taaron, Hunter, Jazlyn, Eve, Isabella, Olivia, Carter, Cole, Skye, Addison, Anthony, Logan and Sherenna have all had....."funny mornings. Bye". And she hangs up.

It turns out that I am a great tennis player, ranked number one. I play tennis, mountain bike and fall asleep on the couch. I wake up. There is no four poster bed, no pool, no TV and no super computer. My life is regular. "DARN It!", I yell.

Many people wish to be famous, but not me. One day I wake and discover I'm famous. I feel very upset. When a news reporter comes to my house I say, "I'm not interested in being famous. I request privacy." I explain to the reporter that I like to observe better than to be observed. I tell him I prefer to have a couple of close friends rather than a huge fan club. Lots of famous people live unhappy lives. Some of them have even committed suicide. I prefer to live a normal life, not famous, but happy. The reporter slowly slouched away. I continue to live a happy and normal life.

Well today was interesting.  The second my eyes opened, I had toclose them again thanks to random people in my room.  My eyes shot open again.  "Who are you people?"  I asked.

"Oh, don't worry, we're just going to snap some quick photos."  One replied.  "Show us a sexy pose."  Said another.  Still groggy, I left the room to brush my teeth.  Instantly I saw a golden toothbrush.  Confused as I was, I used it, then went to goeat breakfast.  "Maybe this will be normal."  I muttered.  I was wrong. Read more »

Creeping up on you,

You never will be alone,

Fame is a joke right?