Diary of a Popstar: Who'sThat Man?

March 13, 2009
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07/21/2146

So'you want to know a little bit about me? I'm your classic, 22nd century, teen singer. I hit the charts about 2 years ago when I was 14. My parents had both been crime scene agents, hoping I would one day follow in their footsteps. Mom de-incrypted the codes and did all the scientific studies, and Dad was out and did actual investigations with NCIS. That's how they met. But Dad's dead now, being Mr. Superhero, making sure every wrong action was justified.

So'you're probably wondering why I am involving myself in such a public way, when any of Dad's accuses could get their revenge on me. Well, I guess I haven't told you, but when I hit the charts, and came out into the real world, I ended up moving in with my cuz. She has secret service up her butt all the time, so I don't really have to worry. My life does get a bit hectic, especially being here in LA, where everybody and his brother lives. I mean, like, the paparazzi don't quit to sleep at night. It's 24/7. Sometimes I wonder why I did decided to do this.









Technically, you could probably say I was there. But somehow, I was far, far away. Literally. I know you're thinking, 'You Who. Looney. Rise and Shine. You're going kinda crazy. Wow''. Maybe you're right and I am a teensy-weensy bit crazy at times. But I am being serious now.

Here. How about letting me explain a bit. This is how it all started. It was about three days ago. I was at a celebrity party with my current guy. I am not into drinking or drugs or anything, so you can't say they were the reasons for what happened. You see, sometimes I get these feelings; I see things. And when I see things, they're real. They happen, or have happened, or whatever. And I saw something that I think will really turn my life around. It never happened, but somehow it must have. It was the past-my parent's past-my past. I was absolutely sure of it. But it was totally bizarre. Crazy. And I saw something else, a person asking me if I really thought'something or other. I couldn't make out the words; my only thought was that this was someone I had never before seen.





Okay. So by now you're thinking I should be in a major mental hospital. Major. Even though what I've seen is something totally wack, you don't think I should be sneaking out and walking around especially without a secret agent, but I'm doing it anyway. And that I'm even more beef-brained to take a taxi to a suburb nearly a hundred miles away. WELL, I GOT TO THINK!!! I'm walking the rest of the way, about three miles to try to avoid paparazzi, and all of the sudden, the guy I saw the other day, both in the dream and then in reality, appears. He pulls aside, and leans over and opens the passenger door. 'Come on in here a second. I'll drop you off wherever you need to go. A young girl like you should not be walking around like that.' My mother always told me not to talk to strangers; not to get into a strangers car if they offer you a lift. My heart was literally pounding. I was sure even my mother could here it pounding, and she was on a trip halfway around the world. Crazy. But somehow, like being driven by a charismatic force, I somehow am brought into the van, not forcibly, yet against my own will. Spooky. I know it's usually not a good thing to get into a stranger's vehicle, but I guess it turned out okay to have decided on having gotten in, but you can't expect me to do what I am supposed to do all the time. I mean come on. Even you do things you shouldn't do and sometimes they can turn out for the better instead of the worse..can't they?

So I got in. Crazy I might be. He asked me where I was going. Then he asked me where I had come from, as if he, having followed me all this way, hadn't known. Then he decided he should just drive me home, if I didn't want him to call the cops and report me as a runaway. Well, needless to say, I didn't think that would do me much good if they check that stuff for college and careers. I mean, I planned to have a life someday, other than singing and other than flipping burgers at McDonalds. I think you get my point. So I decided to let this guy drive me home. I hadn't realized, though, until three hours later that he had not asked where I lived, and was going the complete wrong direction. My mom's gift to me: being naturally blonde. By now, as you could have guessed, I knew things were totally peculiar. Bizarre. Everything was just'. Boy. Maybe I should listen to my mom a little more often.

'Where are you taking me? You didn't even ask where my house was. You've gone hours in the wrong direction,' I say, feeling especially dumb now.

'You think I don't know that by now? Boy, you're just like your momma. Always the last one to figure anything out,' he says with a chuckle. 'Kasey, do you really think some old guy you don't even know is gonna drive for that long and waste that much gas on some teenage girl he sees on the street?'

Then it struck me. Somehow, this guy knew me-or my family-in someway. I didn't answer his question. I ended up looking at him, studying him. When I actually thought about it, he looked vaguely familiar in someway. Then it hit me. We turned into my old drive way, in Grand Junction, Colorado. My daddy hadn't died. He was there all along. This odd man had been following me around; he wasn't really odd; he was my father. How could I have been so blind? Boy, I really am just like my momma.





As soon as we unlocked the door and turned on the light, and a blob of my old friends, family, and even my mom jumped out, yelling 'Surprise!!!' It was a great party. You see, with the excitement of the day I had forgotten it was my birthday. It was really great, my sweet 16. I mean, come on, even you know I had a LOT on my mind. Later that night I had a talk with my parents-not the kind that every teen dreads, but the kind that is desirable, where curiosity just about kills the cat (but not quite). I learned that it had to be said that Dad was dead, because one of the killers he had arrested had gotten out. The killer had been known to escape from jail and kill his accuser, and if Dad were 'tragically' killed, the killer wouldn't need revenge. Dad could go incognito. But the killer died and my life could go back to normal'well, sorta. I'm still a teen pop star, and with the jobs my parents have always had, I guess you wouldn't say my life has ever really been normal. I love my life, and I wouldn't trade it for any other one'





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katrina W. said...
Jul. 13, 2009 at 4:30 pm
This is a sweeeeeeeeeeeeet article
 
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