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I write this to you early Friday morning (1 AM). I just got back from a showing of the new film "Yesterday". The company I intern for (Working Title Pictures) made it! You already know I love the Beatles, so naturally, I highly enjoyed this one.
All right. Let's get into today's chapter, shall we?
PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Emeray and Cartney got coffee! Woo! Now, they've just learned that they're going to a "family dinner" with all the other Famoux members. What kind of Scooby-Doo adventures could ensue??
emeray
Sometimes I find myself forgetting that I've been Emeray Essence, member of the Famoux, actress and singer and model all in one,for such a small frame of time. Although the world seems to have lifted and shattered a hundred times over, it's only really been around five months since Norax first picked me up out of my little town Red. Not even half of a year.
But it's all too easy to get caught up in the whirl of how fast-paced my world has gotten. Emilee's world used to move like molasses: The same sadness every morning, the same torment at school, the same damn tunnel with no light at the end. There were no new people to meet. There were no new chances to take. There was nothing new or old at all, really––just the present, as present as it was, unchanging and unyielding.
Life in the Famoux dwarfs my past life in every aspect. The sadness around me is masked by smiles for the cameras and the interviewers and the fans outside. The torment is internalized, swallowed up like a pill that won't quite dissolve. The tunnel has so many flashing lights along the way, I can't tell if there's an end to it at all. The sheer amount of stress and dismay and glittering grandeur I've encountered since becoming Emeray seems to be more than enough to encompass a century, if not more.
But for every groundbreaking, centurial instance in my life, there are a thousand little things I forget I've never experienced. For one, it's my first time getting through one of Colburn's famously volatile winters, not to mention my first time ever seeing a winter where it snows. My part of Eldae had been more in the south, so snow was something we spoke of, much like how a child speaks of exotic animals. We were always a little skeptical as to whether or not it actually existed.
By now, at the beginning of March, I have no doubts of snow's existence. I would've assumed the forecast would be much lighter and sunnier, like it used to be around this time in Red, but Colburn has yet to show any signs of slowing down. While Cartney and I dazzled the crowds in Wes Tegg's with our young love and vanilla lattes, Gerald was busy calling in for a car to drive us home after noticing the blizzard that had erupted outside.
"Erupted?" I echoed.
"It's chilled, all right," he said, "but distinctly volcanic."
Despite the snowfall, the crowds were no smaller than they were before we entered the cafe. But I imagine the paparazzi must've be eager to free themselves from the cold, for they worked at a near frightening pace––snapping their pictures, saying their thank you's, and running off to let us get into the car. And by the time our car had turned the street, they'd already sent off most of their pictures from our rendezvous to a dozen tabloid sites.
