these streets have too many names for me

[hannahbarnes]

Hannah was frustrated; more so than usually today, probably because of her job. Her editor had been crawling up her ass about getting a new article, claiming that even that the ridiculous fake gossip that that fat jerk Perez Hilton was churning out was getting better press than their magazine. Well, if that’s not embarrassing, I don’t know what is. After an angry meeting with the boss, the blonde had fled her mundane black and white office to enjoy the streets of New York City, and hopefully meet up with someone or anyone who could get her a decent interview. Even indie bands were good enough for her these days, as long as they were interesting and they talked a whole lot. It was a shame, though, Hannah usually ended up interviewing people whose music she absolutely despised or had never even heard. Apparently none of the exciting bands ever wanted to talk to some poor old lowly journalist who wasn’t Rolling Stone or AP. As she left her cubicle she pulled out her headphones, which were miraculously not attached to an iPod, but a Zen Micro photo. It was so stereotypical to see a city person walking around with their heads in the clouds and their music turned up full blast, but Hannah didn’t mind. Not that she kept her music at full blast, mind you; she couldn’t really hear all that well so she kept her music at about half-full volume. But she never really felt the need to deviate from the norm for no reason. Hannah was the type of girl who despised people who went out of their way to make themselves different or “special”. She had been taught growing up that it was okay to be yourself, and she found it funny how the rest of the world changed around her while she stayed the same. In middle school she had been labeled a goth and in high school she was “emo”, but she hadn’t changed, the insults did.

Her musing had distracted her, so she wasn’t really paying attention to the road but her feet seemed to unconsciously lead her to Central Park. She sometimes came to the park when she wanted to write, free of distractions and other people. So, like most days when she arrived here, she picked herself a solitary bench around a couple of trees and bushes and sat down, pulling out her laptop and opening up Microsoft word, hoping to at least get some work done while she was by herself. Ten minutes later? Nope, nothing. The blonde had successfully distracted herself by watching the people and the dogs that were roaming through the park, but her word document was still blank, the cursor blinking steadily as if waiting for her to start typing. Glancing down at the screen, she sighed and pursed her lips, displeased with her inability to write a damn thing today. What was wrong with her today? Damned if I knew. Perhaps there was a reason that she was currently muse less, but she didn’t really think so. Maybe she was just stupid. Or pathetic. Maybe she should find a new job? Geez, Hannah. You sure get awful cynical when you’re down. Running her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture, the young woman pulled her purse out of her bag and reapplied her lip gloss due to the sheer fact that she had absolutely nothing else to do. It might be a good idea to call up some of her friends and go out to a club or something tonight, or go see a show…she desperately needed to get her mind off work.

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said suddenly, looking around at where they'd walked to. He'd ended up near Central Park, across the road from it, even. The lead holding Hemingway had given away where the playful dog had chewed it earlier, and as the red lead snapped the dog darted across the busy road. Pete looked around and ran after the dog, his heart racing as he ran through the gates of Central Park, looking around for his dog. He was owners walking all breeds of dogs... Border Collies... Greyhounds... Afghan Hounds... But he couldn't spot Hemingway around anywhere. He started walking, his heart racing. What if he lost Hemingway in New York City? He'd never see him again. It was insane to think that a dog lost in a city like that would ever be found again. He couldn't even begin to describe what could have caused Hemingway to run to begin with. Pete knew that whilst being ever so slightly mischievious Hemingway wasn't a bad dog. He continued down the path, at a complete loss at what to do when he saw Hemingway bounding toward a woman sitting on a bench with a laptop. Pete's heart fluttered for a second and he ran over to the dog as Hemingway jumped up, placing two paws on the lady's legs.
"Hemingway," Pete said, relief flooding through him. "I'm sorry, he doesn't bite," Pete assured her, bending down to take Hemingway's collar and picking him up.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[hannahbarnes]

Luckily for Hannah, relief from her article had come at just the right time. She looked up when she heard a bark, and smiled as she saw a cute bulldog of some kind running up to her. The affectionate puppy had put her paws on her legs, which were covered by jeans although she didn’t really mind a couple of dirty paw prints here and there. She had her own dog back at her apartment, and old black lab named Stormy. After a few seconds she saw a man run up after the dog, and her insides wanted to explode when she realized who it was. Pete Wentz, as in, the bass player from Fall Out Boy. She knew that dog looked familiar! Hemingway, English Bulldog. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t mildly into Fall Out Boy; she was impressed with the lyrical ability of the man who was actually standing right in front of her. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw his dog, which Hannah found incredibly endearing. She had been keeping up on celebrity gossip so unfortunately she knew far too much about Pete Wentz, almost borderline stalker level. Ashlee Simpson, his other girlfriends, naked pictures…you name it, Hannah knew about it. But obviously she wouldn’t divulge that information. It was a good thing she was excellent at keeping her cool. It came from doing all of those interviews and what have you. Despite the emotion bubbling underneath her surface, all that she did was smile at him calmly and laugh a little.

"Not a problem, I love dogs. He’s really cute.” She said, glancing down at her laptop which was ironically not opened to her blank Microsoft word document, but to Depeche Mode’s homepage, her headphones plugged into the laptop. She had been listening to some of her favorite music, 80’s music. When she was going through her “goth” phase in middle school she had gotten into a few obscure dark wave bands, and the people that she met because of that band had introduced her to her favorite bands still today, The Cure, Depeche Mode and The Smiths. Funny how a girl who was born in the beginning of the eighties liked bands that were so much older than she. I think she was in diapers when The Smiths broke up. Naturally, she was focused more on nostalgia and music than she was on getting her work done, which was odd considering she had been freaking out all day about finishing (or finding, for that matter) an article. Deciding it would be rude to keep her laptop out when this stranger…okay, not really a stranger, more a short and famous celebrity was standing right in front of her, she shut the top to the laptop and slipped it into her bag. She glanced up at Pete again, unsure of what to say. I mean, this kind of stuff doesn’t exactly happen every day. Then, it hit her. Aspiring journalist. Huge media whore and personality and famous musician. …interview, anyone? But it might come off kind of odd if she just blurted out ‘can I do an interview with you?’ to Pete Wentz. I mean, she had heard that he was a pretty chill dude, but some crazy journalist fangirl might kind of freak him out. Not that Hannah was a fangirl, mind you. Not at all! She was just a girl who happened to be a fan of Fall Out Boy. Which basically translates into ‘Hannah is trying not to rape Pete Wentz right now’. Okay, deep breaths. Offering the older man another smile, she patted the seat on the bench next to her. I’m Hannah.” The blonde thought it would be a better idea to just seem relaxed, as if she didn’t know who he was and he was just some stranger who was nice and had an adorable dog. Yep, sounds like a good idea to me. And if you ask me, Hannah’s doing a pretty amazing job of staying cool and collected. If it were me, I would have already been blathering like a moron.

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said when the girl said she loved dogs. "He's usally a good dog, on the lead or off," Pete said, half talking to himself now as Hemingway struggled in his arms. He wasn't going to be able to hold him for much longer, but for now he'd have to suffice. Pete looked down at Hemingway, who obviously wanted to go play. Pete didn't really want to let him go, despite the fact he was nearly certain Hemingway would come when called, he didn't want to put it to the test right now. Pete looked at the girl sitting beside him, the laptop was now closed. He gave her a weak smile, about to stand up when she announced who she was.
"Oh," Pete said, almost a little surprised that the girl was going to make conversation, but not unpleasantly so. "I'm Pete," he said with a smile. He didn't know anything about this girl, she could be anyone, and he couldn't really jump to conclusions because she had a laptop with her, although he could take a wild guess and say that she was a writer of some kind. "I only came out for a walk to get away from it all, and then I'm here, having chased Hemingway across Central Park," Pete smiled, very glad to have Hemingway back though. The dog struggled still, and Pete was attempting to keep him still on his lap.
"I've had dogs all my life, and I've never, ever had one that is such a little devil," Pete said. Pandora and Marley barked a lot, but they weren't trouble at all. "When he was teething he would, like, practically chew anything," Pete smiled. Hemingway seemed to find himself trouble where ever he went, quite the little mischief maker. He always had Pete or who ever was looking after him running around after him cleaning up something or other. Hemingway had been quite an excitable dog, but English Bulldogs made such amazing, companions. Fiercely loyal at that, and that was precisely why Pete had chosen that breed.
To think that a normal walk away from everything at the festival had turned into a chase for his dog was quite surprising. Pete considered looping the lead through the hand loop and putting it around Hemingway's neck, but if Hemingway pulled it would act as something of a choke chain, something that Pete didn't want to use on his pet. Pete saw choke chains as cruel and inhumane - he couldn't even bear to put Hemingway in the kennels if he had to go overseas because he found that so immoral. He always had someone he knew take care of Hemingway. He would just have to hold him untill he got back to the tour bus, or if he could find a pet shop that was open right now.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[hannahbarnes]

Hannah watched in curiosity as the man pulled a chewed up red leash out of his pocket and then all but collapsed onto the bench beside her, holding his struggling dog in his hand. He seemed a little distracted, probably by the fact that he had just been chasing his dog around Central Park, which, if you know anything about New York City, you would know is quite big. The blonde girl was internally scolding herself for being so pathetic. If Pete told her to do absolutely anything right now, including jump off a bridge, she probably would have done it. Unwittingly so, but she was putty in this guy’s hands, and thank god he didn’t know it. Not that Pete was a bad guy, but that gets a little embarrassing. He probably didn’t even know that she knew who he was. And as much as she would enjoy continuing their little game of charades, she felt creepy and stalker-like pretending that she had never heard of him or Fall Out Boy before. She watched him, feeling a little disappointed when he seemed shocked that she had spoken to him. Who was she kidding? He was a famous musician; she should have known that he probably didn’t want to waste his day chatting to some pathetic journalist. She was about to open her mouth to speak when he began talking about how he had come to Central Park just to chill out and then his poor puppy ran away. Well, she had completely lost her nerve now, but at least they were making conversation!

“Nice to meet you, Pete. I was here trying to get a little work done, but you know, Hemingway is a very welcome distraction.” She said sincerely, offering the man a small smile. Hannah still felt a little awkward in this conversation, but now that she had introduced herself Pete seemed intent on talking, which was fine with her. I mean, who wouldn’t want to get to meet Pete Wentz? Stupid people, that’s who. At least he wasn’t running far far away, which means she had successfully contained her fangirl butterflies. Now she was feeling a little calmer for real this time, and she watched him with intrigue as he held his dog and talked. "Ooh, yeah, my dog still tries to chew everything, and he’s almost six.” She laughed. The blonde felt bad because Pete had to hold his dog, and normally she kept her own dog’s leash on hand in her bag, but today she had left it at home, naturally. Poor Pete. If he had lost Hemingway in Central Park on any other day, she would have been able to help him out, but not today.

[/font]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete told her, finding it very odd to be making conversation about dogs. "Personality... boredom... it's all relevant," Pete said. "Hemingway's clumsy, but not a bad dog," Pete said, looking at the dog and smiling. He looked back up at Hannah, deciding that lighthearted conversation about dogs wasn't particularly interesting right now.
"Did you come for the festival?" Pete asked, stroking Hemingway into an attempt to calm him down. He took a moment to look around where they were sitting - Central Park was beautiful, as long as you weren't running through it desperately searching for your animal. If Pete lost Hemingway it wouldn't just be himself who was angry him, Hemingway belonged partially to Jeanae too, and she would probably have lost it if Pete told her Hemingway had disappeared in New York. Of course, if anyone recognized Hemingway there was a small chance Pete might get him back, but still. Central Park was a nice place to be though, and it was quite a fair day out. Pete could see people walking their dogs and enjoying the weather while they could right now.
He looked back at Hannah, wondering what the chances were that she was there for the festival. She was obviously young, and the festival was very much aimed at a young target audience, given the bands that were showcased there on a yearly basis. However, you did get the odd older person, who had turned up for a few bands but weren't really into the scene. Then you got the C-stage bands themselves, young, aspiring musicians playing in small unsigned bands and were working their way up and found Tombstone a great oppotunity to find some new fans. Most of the bands Pete had seen sounded similiar if not exactly like an existing band, it was all about look and style now-a-day. There were some many carbon copy bands out there, and they sounded alike. It was easy for people to fall into the traps of listening to a band that sounded like another they liked and then listen to that band as well. That was obviously why so many bands advertised on more mainstream band's MySpaces and what not. Sometimes you'd get a good band, something truly unique, but for the most part they were just rip offs of some else's sound regurgitated and rehashed. It was a very fickle scene though, so whatever band was relevant would get copied.
Bands now a day got dissected and pulled apart by the media, and then they attempted to put them back together again. There were very few publications that Pete now trusted to report something fairly and accurately. AbsolutePunk.net was an online site Pete liked, he'd done two interviews with Jason Tate, who was a good friend of his. Jason was one of the first people with any influence like that that really gave Fall Out Boy a chance, hence why when From Under The Cork tree had hit platinum Jason and AbsolutePunk had gotten their own little commemorative plaque. Pete often let AbsolutePunk do exclusives with Fall Out Boy, like streaming their songs first and having interviews and what not. He also trusted Leslie Simon, a journalist from Alternative Press, because he knew her well and often did a lot of writing on Fall Out Boy and Fueled By Ramen and Decaydance bands. People in the media who Pete could really trust were few and far between, and he had to step cautiously when he knew he was being quoted on something.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[hannahbarnes]

Hannah laughed, also finding it more than a little odd that their conversation thus far had been about dogs. Not exactly the thing that you would expect to talk about with a ridiculously famous person, but hey, she’d take what she could get. Her dog had always been obsessed with chewing everything he could get his big old paws on, including her shoes, papers, chairs, desks, tables…yeah, not such a good thing. But nowadays he mostly just chewed on Nylabones, those sweet things that you could pick up at any grocery store. It was a very good thing he did, too, because otherwise Hannah would have to constantly be buying new shoes and new furniture. And although her parents supported her very well financially, there was a certain threshold that she knew she couldn’t cross. She had been musing about her puppy (well, he’s not really a puppy anymore, but you know how that goes) when Pete spoke again, and she titled her head to the side very slightly, her brain taking a few moments to actually process what he had said. The festival. Ooh yes, the festival. She had known Fall Out Boy had been playing, as well as a bunch of other high profile bands on the Fueled By Ramen label like Paramore, Panic! At The Disco and The Academy Is. All some of her favorite bands. Well, this was bound to get awkward, huh?

“Well, I live here, but I’m reporting on the festival, yeah. And don’t worry, I’m not taking notes.”She said, offering him a weak smile and adding that note quickly at the end of the sentence. Hannah kind of got the feeling that Pete would go running straight in the other direction, Hemingway in tow now that he knew she was a journalist. But she really wasn’t planning on quoting anything he said or anything like that. To be honest, she was just basking in the fact that Mr. Wentz was so…well, normal! She hadn’t really expected him to be down-to-earth and cordial, despite all of the stories she had heard about him through various sources. Even though Hannah was looking forward to getting her article done, she wasn’t going to bombard Pete with questions or anything like that, it would just be rude, especially since he had actually given her the time of day. She was just shocked at how nice and polite he was, and the blonde didn’t really want to freak him out or anything.

OOC: Sorry, my posts keep getting shorter and shorter. -.- I'm losing muse, haha.

[/center][/size]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete asked, with a smile. It was surprising how many journalists didn't want to be involved with festivals but went along because they're job was being dangled off a cliff. Pete had already met a few who had openly admitted they would have preferred being anywhere else but t the festival talking to celebrities, and Pete would agree - he'd rather be anywhere else than talking with people about his music when said person didn't even give a shit and was going to write down that Pete was a complete raving depressed loony or something like that. Pete had good days and bad days, just like everyone else did. He was still that same person who grew up in Chicago and played soccer and was in hardcore bands. He was just Pete Wentz assocaited primarily with Fall Out Boy now, and Pete found that for the most part his band were still exactly the same people they had been six years ago when they created Fall Out Boy, although of course some changes had happened, such as Pete's experiences with show security... Pete often wondered if he would ever be able to tell that he had changed, and he supposed in a way he knew he had done, but he was still normal Pete Wentz who listened to as many The Cure albums as he did hardcore bands. He had people who kept him sane, and kept him grounded. People who would give him a headcheck (and occasionally a headache). But the thing was, if Pete argued with someone then he was being a 'diva', because he was in a band. Anyone else who argued with someone was being normal, if not a bit stroppy. Normal behaviour was seen as something different when you were in a band like Fall Out Boy. It wasn't hard to stay grounded though, everyone Pete knew within music was pretty grounded, he thought. Patrick especially - Pete had been surprised to find that Patrick had literally only left the tour bus to go shopping for guitar strings and plectrums. [/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[hannahbarnes]

Hannah couldn’t hide the way her face fell as Pete nodded when she spoke. He had assumed the worst; she was a journalist. Sometimes it sucked having a job like hers, because people made assumptions that you were just going to make up ridiculous stories about them like ‘I met him, and he was mean and his dog bit me and he was smoking a joint.’ Hannah wasn’t like that. She wasn’t all about the gossip and the stories and the compromising integrity. At the root of her job, she just wanted to learn more about these people who were brave enough to bare all, to put their hearts out their with their music and just dream that someone else likes it. She really respected people in bands; she didn’t have enough confidence or enough skill to ever accomplish anything like that. He spoke again and she laughed, closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them, giving Pete as sincere a smile as she could muster. She really just wanted him to know that she wasn’t a pathetic person hunting for a story or trying to get on his tour bus, or anything pathetic like that. ”I’m here because I want to be. I dunno, maybe it sounds weird but I really love a lot of the bands that are playing, I’d love to pick their brains and figure out what makes them write the stuff they do.”
The blonde couldn’t understand why some people went to festivals if they didn’t want to. Hannah knew from being an insider to the business that if you really didn’t want to cover something, you didn’t have to. There would always be someone who wanted to do it, someone who could replace you on a story if you desperately wanted to do something else. Some people were into journalism for the fame or for the money, but not Hannah. She just couldn’t fathom why a reporter would want to waste their time and the band’s time by asking stupid questions just to get a rise out of someone. That being said, she really felt bad about not divulging to Pete that she knew who he was. She felt like some kind of weird celebrity-obsessed freak. “Hey, and sorry I didn’t really explain that I knew who you were when you sat down. I didn’t want to freak you out.” She said, offering him a weak smile. Hopefully he would believe her?

[/size]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said. "But that's very often 'who, insert some random shit here and just add in their bunking up with whatever celebrity here'. The public love to think you're having a bit of a scandal and you're lying about it, but it's hardly ever the case. If someone does lie about something then it's not because they're dishonest, it's just because they feel people don't have the right to be prying into their personal life," Pete said, holding Hemingway's collar and stroking him again. "I understand why you didn't tell me who you were, proper journalists are hard to come by these days, I'd be lying if I told you I trusted everyone I met," Pete said. "It's just... I've learned the hard way that people will make up shit to amuse themselves and twist your words, and then they'll write about the same old thing about you," Pete told her. "Not many people like sit down and say 'right, tell me about your music', because it's mostly about 'right, tell me about your music and if you're taking this girl home with you tonight'," Pete said with a sad smile. It was true, as soon as you landed yourself in a glossy magazine then you were considered public property - people could talk about you exactly how they wanted. People seemed to feel that being a celebrity meant the words didn't hurt, and the accusations just bounced off, but that was never the case. The lies and the scandals did hurt, the shit-talk hurt as well. When people called Pete an asshole it hurt him just as much as it would hurt any other person in the world. A glossy magazine wasn't going to change you, it didn't mean you didn't hear the rumors and get hurt by them. "So, who do you write for then?" Pete asked.

[[short, sorry.]][/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[hannahbarnes]

Hannah was put slightly at ease by the fact that Pete seemed to be nodding along in agreement with her. She couldn’t even imagine how frustrating it must be to be in the public eye all of the time, whether it be for something stupid he did or whom he met at a club this day or that day. Her eyes were focused on the older man as he spoke, and she too nodded along in agreement with his words. Well, he wasn’t upset with her for lying, which was a very good thing. “Yeah, I know. Sadly I don’t think there are too many people that are really in it for the music anymore. I dunno, I just wish that it wasn’t all about money and getting your name out there, but I’m sure you can sympathize.” She spoke and then shot him a small smile. It wasn’t really fair of her to be bitching and moaning – certainly someone famous like Pete Wentz had it a lot worse than she. Not to mention she got upset over every little thing that someone said negatively towards her. The blonde had yet to develop a super-thick skin and luckily, right now it wasn’t necessary, but she was sure as she got older and (hopefully) rose in the ranks of journalism she might have to deal with some negative press. It was unfortunate how some people got their kicks from tearing famous people apart, as if they didn’t have any feelings just because they were rich or famous. Yeah, some people deserved it, but it was the same type of thing that your parents told you when you were little. Treat others how you would like to be treated. Hannah felt that the rules didn’t need to be withdrawn just for celebrities; they deserved to be cut a little slack too. And meeting Pete had just solidified her opinion that some famous people were really quite nice, and certainly deserving of all the fame that they had after working so damn hard for so long.

Hannah was slightly surprised when Pete asked who she worked for…she hadn’t really expected him to care. After all, he probably had more important things to do than peruse through some tiny indie music magazine. He was a big-shot; he had people to talk to, videos to plan, and clothing to design. But somehow he still managed to stay true to the people that gained him that fame. She really did admire Pete, not only for the fact that he seemed to be a good guy, but because he still stayed normal in between all of the shit he had to go through. That obviously was a great feat, considering a lot of musicians she had interviewed in the past let the fame go to their heads and thought they were much, much better than they really are. And to be honest, Hannah didn’t really think Fall Out Boy was that good, technically speaking. They were actually kind of awful in terms of playing ability and vocal skill, but the amazing amount of heart that they put into all of their performances and albums made them a joy to listen to. But I’m blabbing, and this girl here still hasn’t answered Pete’s question. “Oh, I err…I write for (insert magazine here AGAIN, because Briar is too lazy AGAIN to think of one).” She said quietly. It wasn’t exactly Rolling Stone, but Hannah enjoyed her job…hopefully one of the gossip columnists hadn’t written anything awful about Fall Out Boy that Hannah had missed and Pete hadn’t. That might make for an awkward conversation.

[/size]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said, holding a still struggling Hemingway. "And I know there are some assholes out there, I've met a few, but they're the type of people who don't have any really loyal fans," Pete told her. He did find it easier to talk to people on a normal level when they weren't questioning him over everything, personal questions were often answered by Pete with a couple of words and a lot of the word 'like'. Pete seemed to come across as the kind of person who did seem to use the word 'like' a lot, but in reality it was only occasionally. Everything was different once the cameras stopped rolling.
"I think that's the magazine Beckett buys sometimes - William Beckett," Pete said. "I'll read it if Fall Out Boy are in it or Panic! or some band I know," Pete said. "Journalism is such a really hard thing though, especially if you're being a music critic. There are so many opinions on music, that's how it's supposed to be, music is supposed to be controversal, so writing a piece and saying 'this band sucks ass' is hard to justify, you're always gonna get some one who thinks different, it's what makes music great, in a sense," Pete said. "It's like... you hate a band and you're like 'why the hell do people like this band' and it's like... those people like that band for the exact same reason why you like your favorite band," he said.
People could say they hate Fall Out Boy, and collectively it didn't really hurt, because Pete was very aware of the kind of cult fanbase they had. They were, as he had once described them, 'lunatics', but they were amazing. The kind of things they sent and the stories you heard from them were amazing. Pete found the ways their fans looked after each other endearing as well, as if it wasn't a fanbase they had but really a family. They were the kind of fans who, to be honest, had been trailed through the dirt a bit, Pete understood that people sometimes got picked on because of the music they liked, and sometimes Fall Out Boy wasn't exactly the music you were supposed to like, but their fans were still hardcore, and they still stood tall. Pete had talked to so many fans, read their questions on the site, read their responses on the Fall Out Boy messageboard to something someone had said or something he had said. It was heartwarming, it was something so unbelievable and incrediable that sometimes it was too hard to grasp if you were someone on the outside looking in.[/size][/color][/blockquote][/ul]