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> In Real Life., Roleplay by Grace & I.
post Dec 21st 2011, 11:32 PM
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If I had to sum up my life in one word it would be unimaginable.

Yes, I would choose "unimaginable." The reason being? No one looking in from the outside would have any inkling of just how indescribable, chaotic and absolutely incredible my life was. In fact, I'm pretty sure not even the people who were inside with me knew just how I felt half the time. To say I was a rollercoaster ride of a girl would be an understatement. But I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, life is short. What good is it to be boring? To not take chances? To let your dreams slip away? I may not have it all together but I was definitely getting there. It was a process. An unimaginable process.

I never expected my life to turn out how it had. If someone would have looked at me at six years old they may have predicted a future teacher. At ten years old? Maybe a model. At thirteen? I could have possibly taken first place in a statewide singing competition. But no one ever saw me being discovered that fateful night. No one ever saw me being signed to the record label of a famous, world-wide known band. No one ever saw me making millions. I was not supposed to be the girl who went from nothing to all. I wasn't supposed to end up in Hollywood, the home of the fake, overly tanned divas who wanted nothing more than the newest Gucci bags. I wasn't supposed to end up with my face all over the country, all over the world. If you asked me, I was supposed to be back in that small New Jersey town, engaged to my high school sweetheart, a wedding in the works. If you asked me, I was destined to be the mom who attended every bake sale, choir concert and basketball game. If you asked me, I had ended up in someone else's life.

Born into a typical, middle class family in a small, beach front community, I was given the name Kaitlin Elizabeth. There was no special meaning behind my name, regardless of what was said on the radio or in the magazines. My parents just liked the name - plain and simple. And that's how my childhood was. Plain and simple. I was the younger sibling to Lauren, the daughter to Patrick and Idina, the teacher's pet to Mrs. Mullaby. I was the sweet girl who brought around cookies at Christmas, the one who ran around, banging pots and pans on New Year’s Eve, the child everyone wished was their own. I wish I could tell an interesting story of my early life; I wish I could say I had been rescued from a fire or broken a leg or even was caught in a food fight. But I can’t. My sister and I were average; my mom and dad were ideal. Anything one could imagine a middle class life on the beach to be would pretty much sum up the first thirteen years of mine.

And then I was discovered. It was our yearly family vacation out to California, the place where dreams were made of. We did this every July; my parents found it helped with our bonding and who didn’t want to get away and live a life of luxury for a week? While eating at a small, dingy, dimly lit karaoke bar with my mother and sister, they rudely volunteered me to get up and sing for the crowd of about fifteen. This was nothing new - it was a love and hobby of mine to sing. I just didn’t prefer doing it in front of a bunch of drunken strangers. Would any fourteen year old girl? I doubt it. But I did it, to make my mother happy. After all, she had worked her butt off all year to pay for this trip. It was the least I could do. The results were momentous.

In the audience was a boy my age and his father. They had fled the loud, flashing, obnoxious party scene of Hollywood and hoped for a few hours of peace and quiet at the local bar. What they had found instead was me. A girl who could sing her behind of. A girl who had the potential to add plenty to their freshly created record label. A girl who was literally standing in front of a million possibilities. And they chose me. Out of all of those skinny, blonde, designer-wearing girls, they chose me. That was the moment when my life truly changed.

Over the span of the next year my family was moved out to California, I was thrown into a whirlwind of business meetings, recording sessions and live interviews and I began to realize just how hard it was the be in the spotlight twenty-four seven. Before I could blink an eye, my first record was out, I had pranced down the red carpet a plethora of times and I was learning how to fake it. Going from the small town cookie-baking, shower-singing girl to this was a huge adjustment, to say the least. Before moving to California, I had heard rumors of the different ways celebrities dealt with fame but I wasn’t sure just how much I had believed. A year in the spotlight? I was the definition of this person.

It seemed my mother was more into the spotlight than I was. Actually, it didn’t seem this was this way. I realized why she had pushed so hard to put me on that stage, the get me to the business meeting round table, to wax my eyebrows and put me on a diet. I realized why she was disappearing from family dinners, why she had begun to stay at “work” late every night. I realized how she had wanted this her whole life and was living vicariously through me. That was putting it simply. A week after my first album dropped, my mom was gone. My father explained through gritted teeth and red, puffy eyes she had left him for a big-time movie producer. I hadn’t heard from her since. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.

Of course her actions had consequences. For one, the paparazzi reported it to every outlet they could. I was an up and coming singer...who didn’t want to know every one of my secrets? But this was minor to the others. I rebelled. Yes, a year of rebellion changed my life more than I would ever imagine. Correction: my mother’s selfishness changed my life more than I would ever imagine. After flying home one weekend to my hometown (a place I hadn’t been in almost two years), I attended a party. Of course it was nothing like the parties I had been to in Hollywood - this was much smaller, much more intimate. But it followed the protocol. I got drunk for the first time in my life, had sex for the first time in my life and became pregnant for the first time in my life. Yes, this Hollywood good girl had become impregnated while drunk, with a boy she didn’t even know, at a party she didn’t belong at.

The moment I found out, the moment I read the test, the moment I realized my life was changed, once again, many things happened. My dad stepped up more than I could have ever asked him to. The man who had been hidden away in his bedroom, crying over his true love’s disappearance became my best friend, my savior. He was there for me through everything; from my decision to keep the baby to my first ultrasound to the birth of my daughter. He never left my side and neither did Lauren. I went into hiding. I shared my pregnancy with very few people. My family, the family who had discovered me and my producer. None of us were willing for me to lose it all over this “simple screw up,” my producer informed me one day. My father, sister and I moved to a small, faraway town in Washington state, away from the paparazzi, away from the fans, away from my life. I was home-schooled, I was visited by a handful of people, and I gave birth at home. A year after going into hiding, I reappeared on the scene, my family and record company claiming my father had adopted a baby girl in order to fill the void left by my mother. My daughter become my sister. My father’s granddaughter became his daughter. Don’t ask me how we did it, don’t ask me how it worked. But it did. To this day, all of my fans, the paparazzi and the world believed she was my four year old sister. From the time she could comprehend, we explained it to her as a “game,” as she got older, she understood. And that was my biggest secret, the biggest shame I had. The fact I had to lie about the most precious part of my life. All to keep up my "immaculate" appearance.

Ariadne Rose was my perfect, flawless four-year-old princess. It was as simple as that. The simplest thing of my life.

There were few people who knew the truth about Ariadne, or Aria, as those closest to her called her. My father, my sister, my publicist, my producer and the family who had found me and been there every step of the way. The Jonas family.

Cue the screaming. Okay, maybe the obsessive, obnoxious fan base had settled down at the years passed by, but at one time it had been insanity. And that was putting it nicely. Kevin, Joe and Nick had once ruled the world, or so it had seemed. They had been referred to as the second-coming on the Beatles. They had filled stadiums, blocked off busy New York City streets, sold millions of albums, books, and other merchandise. As time went on, they went their separate ways business-wise. Kevin got married to his beautiful, amazing wife, Danielle, Joe went on to a solo music career, and Nick went onto producing music, working on his acting and focusing on Broadway once again. Of course they always came together about four times a month for family dinners, which we attended as well, a necessity for Mr. and Mrs. Jonas, and they wouldn’t dream of spending a birthday or holiday apart. Even more so lately because of our latest project. And before anyone could, I was not dating a Jonas Brother. Joe and I had tried once, many years ago and it failed miserably. We were much better off as friends - all of us. In fact, I was not dating anyone. I didn’t even have time to think about that, let alone participate in it. I was a busy nineteen year-old celebrity, mother, after all.

A busy celebrity who had just finished up her latest project, along with the Jonas Brothers. A movie that was predicted to take over the movie theaters, to be as big as Titanic or Harry Potter. And we had been lucky enough to work on the soundtrack for it. Along with this came sleepless work nights, stressful writing sessions and a week long trip to New York City to attend the movie premiere, after-party and multiple interviews and appearances. On top of this, I had to pretend my daughter was non-existent, keep my diet on track and force a smile on my face even when I was exhausted, hungry or upset. It was a lot. It was a rollercoaster. It was unimaginable.

It was my life.

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post Dec 22nd 2011, 1:09 AM
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I have never been a kid.

I was a lot of things when I was younger. I was a gymnast, I was a horseback rider, I was a dog breeder and I was even an orphan. But never once, among all the different titles I adopted, would I ever have considered myself a “kid”.

In fact, none of the titles I can appoint myself were even the truth. I was never really the young gymnastics prodigy who took home the gold medal, nor was I the courageous little girl who raced her favorite horse in order to save her daddy’s farm. I wasn’t the soft-hearted preteen who nursed a stray dog back to health and began a breeding company, and I especially wasn’t the troubled demon living within an orphanage. I was, and always will be, an actress.

I have never known what one might consider a “normal” life. Every last detail of my story, from my birth to my current situation, is far from normal. I was born in the backseat of an out-of-style station wagon to a seventeen year old girl screaming bloody murder while her helpless and incredibly stoned boyfriend attempted to assist her. Yes, my parents were drug addicted teenagers who had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. My mother, Penelope, was the one who stepped up, sobered up and took the responsibility of raising me; my father, Ryan, on the other hand, couldn’t handle maturity. He continued to do drugs, sleep around, and eventually brought physical abuse upon my mother -- he was out of my life before I could even say “dada”. I can’t say that I’ve ever missed him; after all, I never knew him. I dropped his last name the moment I was asked for my first signature; I was no longer Grace Elizabeth Reynolds, but simply Grace Elizabeth. I was raised single-handedly by my mother, who worked two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. During the day, you could find her busing tables at a local diner for minimum wage while during the evening you’d be lucky to find her for she was always somewhere else, sleeping with a different male in exchange for a few extra dollars. That’s how my sister, Lilliana, was brought into this world, just the same as me; unexpected, unwanted and, of course, fatherless. It was just shortly after baby number two was born, just four short years after my own birth, that my mother decided it was time for a serious financial change. Several days later, I was filming my first commercial.

Acting always came so naturally to me. I had the perfect innocent smile, the ideal confident attitude, and a natural talent I swear I was blessed with. These few attributes were all it took for my childhood acting career to skyrocket; I was filming movies, guest starring on talk shows, popping up on the news and strolling red carpets in the blink of an eye. My life had suddenly turned from unbearable to unbelievable, and I loved every second of it. As a child, my favorite aspect of my acting career was the character. There was nothing I enjoyed more than being granted the opportunity to alter myself; to renew my style, adjust my mannerisms and change my name. I loved transforming into a new person before the camera; I loved pretending to be the gymnast, the jockey, the breeder and the orphan, even though I knew I would never really be anything as astonishing. Although I had to attend meetings, press conferences, wardrobe fittings and table reads as a young child instead of playgrounds, birthday parties or amusement parks, I absolutely loved being an actress. My mother loved it, too. She loved the money, the fame and, especially, the rights to brag about her celebrity daughter. My sister was slightly less thrilled; although she claimed she had no interest in stardom, I knew she felt less important at times and, honestly, I can’t blame her. Lilly attended public school instead of red carpet premiers, and crossed her fingers in hopes to win Homecoming Queen instead of Emmy awards. Although my sister and I live two different lives, we will always be there for one another. I don’t see too much of my family anymore, for my busy schedule has grown so hectic that I’m lucky to be granted a full month of rest, though they still remain important to me. I call my mother almost weekly, and make sure to stop by for every important celebration or occasion. I mostly keep in touch for my sister’s sake; I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to escape into the fantasy world that I live in every day.

Where can I begin to describe the life of a nineteen year old celebrity? At the club, perhaps. As I’ve gotten older (now only two years from the legal drinking age, thank God), I’ve learned to take full advantage of all the celebrity perks. I am a regular to nearly every exclusive downtown club in LA, a frequent visitor to various different party houses throughout the elite district and a constant name on guest lists for after parties of all sorts. Over the years I have become a professional at not only interpreting acting cues, but also at downing shots, rolling joints, swallowing pills and, even occasionally, snorting lines. I have tried every drug under the sun--I’ve smoked weed, taken ecstasy, snorted coke--and the media is far from clueless. I emerged from my childhood fame as “the next Lindsay Lohan”, with rumors of overdose, drinking and driving, and my downfall constantly in circulation. Although I won’t deny that I party excessively, I will always object to the harsh ridicule I endure; I am, under no means, a bad person. I have never gotten behind the wheel while intoxicated, and I always realize my limit exactly when I reach it. I just like to have fun.

There have been several times when people have attempted to control my fun. Just a few months ago my manager threatened to drop everything and quit if I didn't stop giving her a nightmare with all the public apologies and statements she was forced to issue as a result of my behavior. I settled down for a week or two, and then was right back at it again, causing a scene with my good friend, Miley Cyrus, and our infamous bong incident. I've received handfuls of phone calls over the last year from Lilly, begging me to stop drinking and doing drugs, though I can only insist that I don't have a problem; I could stop at any time if I wanted to. I had to cut my mother off from my income when I turned eighteen, as I grew annoyed at her attempts to manage my money and keep me from “wasting” it on illegal activities. Eventually, I feel as though they all stopped trying. Words such as “rehab” and “counseling” have caused so many fights that it seems as though nobody believes it worth the effort anymore. Everyone has realized that I am set in my ways--I'm happy with my lifestyle, no matter how self-destructive it may be, and nobody is going to change that.

In fact, clubbing is what brought me to meet my boyfriend of two years, Rob. Yes, the Rob Kardashian. The one male sibling to five girls--extremely wealthy, pampered and beautiful girls, that is. Rob comes from a family of success, money and extreme fame; the Kardashian’s are just about the most infamous family across the world at the moment, and I just so happen to be dating the only male sibling of the bunch. We met at a nightclub--the exact name slips my mind--when I was only seventeen. Rob was twenty-one at the time, and I didn’t find anything more attractive than the legal drinking age. We started talking, flirting, touching, and within moments he had snuck me a drink. After several more glasses and a few more turns on the dance floor, Rob and I were back in his apartment before I knew it. I slept with him that night. I only intended him to be another guy I had sex with, one of the many lucky men who could brag that they had Grace Elizabeth in their bed for a night, though it turned out to be much more. I believe the reason that our relationship has hit so many rocky turns is a result of our beginning; we were brought together initially by a physical connection and had to learn to build an emotional connection, as opposed to the other way around. I can’t say his family was thrilled to meet me at first--in fact, during the first few months of our relationship I was convinced that they were attempting to sabotage our bond--and, once again, I can't blame them. My reputation is far from clean; in the eyes of the public I am five and a half feet of pure trouble, although they eventually warmed up. This was extremely bothersome to his tight-knit family, something I have always envied Rob for. Although I will forever be jealous of the close relations he has with his sisters and parents, there is little else that he has to eny. Rob is unlike his infamous sisters in many aspects; he drinks almost nightly, tries any drug that he is offered, is covered in tattoos, and can’t hold a job down for more than a month. This fact alone has caused many arguments between us, as well as my traveling schedule. Rob has a difficult time coping with my career, even though his sisters are always there to sympathize and comfort me, and has cheated on me twice while I was away for filming and promotion. Our relationship is far from perfect, along with everything else in my life, but I do love him and know that it will all work out.

Actually, I am a strong believer in the idea that everything will work out in the end. My carefree attitude is the main factor that has lead to my reckless behavior, and something I am constantly taunted for in the public, though I couldn’t care less. The press calls me a “partier”, an “alcoholic”, a “drug addict”, and a “loser”, though I find this laughable. In just a few days my latest project will be released to the public and, with all the hype and excitement building around this Blockbuster production, it is promised to be the biggest film of the decade. The way I see it is this: the people who constantly nitpick and worry are the ones bashing me from behind a computer screen or tearing me apart in front of their television, while I drink, dance and earn millions of dollars.

Who’s the loser now?

love: jonas. gomez. wolff. swift.
8/15/08, 7/25/09, 8/31/10. twitter.
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