| |
|
[ 613 K ] |
 |
|
|
It was as I was reveling in my upcoming success that fate struck the first blow against me. A representative of Trans Continental Records approached my manager and instructed him to
leave the Hard Rock Cafe under threat of lawsuit. We protested valiantly, but to avoid a protracted legal battle, submitted to his bullying. When I became a star I knew that I could have his swishy ass removed from the company and replaced.
|
|
 |
|
Here we note a glaring fault in my audition procedure; I should have arranged credentials for my entourage and sycophants well in advance or, more properly, I should have had my entourage arrange this themselves-- after all, that's what they're for.
As time went on, I became upset. I had relied on my support staff to guide me through the audition, to reassure me of my greatness, and to protect me from the shocked losers left steaming in my wake. Without any friends to hold on to, I was lost. I knew that I would have to be strong--stronger than I had ever been before. I took my place in line with the other hopefuls, studying lyric sheets and singing scales, adjusting clothes and smoothing stray hairs into place. The line slowly moved towards the sealed room where the producers would observe us one at a time. My hands were clammy with sweat. I wiped them stealthily on the back of a Tommy Hilfiger sweater.
|
|
And here we notice another fault: my inability to remain composed. I let the external stimulus of the audition get to me, and as a result became unduly nervous and sweaty. Nervousness is your biggest enemy in a performance situation. The illusion of complete professionalism that a teen idol must project needs to be flawless; any mistake, no matter how minor, will be unfeelingly scrutinized by the judges. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to become upset by events beyond my control.
|
|
 |
|