Good morning sir.  This is your wake-up call.  The same thing every morning.  Some bright and bubbly voiced girl calling him at the butt crack of dawn to wake him up from his usual restless slumber.  The first tug of the day on his puppet strings, time to get up.  Get out of bed, head to the bathroom, shower, get dressed and head out to another day in the life of a pop star.  The day in the life of a puppet that is told what to do, where to go by a bunch of men in suits that he hardly ever sees.  He smiles, he scribbles his name on the tiniest pieces of paper ever, answers the same questions day after day.  The same thing over and over again everyday, just in another city, a different town everyday.  Most times he didn’t even know where it was that he was.  Was it Chicago, Austin, LA, Boston, New York?  It didn’t really matter because they were all about the same place to him. 

But today was different.  Today they were doing that special small concert.  The one with only 5,000 people in the audience.  5,000 lucky people who would get to spend the evening with them.  It was going to be fun, maybe.  He just felt different about this whole show, like something was going to happen that day.  This day was going to be something special, or was it just going to be the same old, same old.  The puppet being directed along by someone you couldn’t see holding the strings.  He was going to try today, try and be genuine about his smiles, and really poor himself into his singing tonight.  Then when they were done he was going on a real vacation just by himself, and think, think about what he wanted to do, to try and find what it was that he felt like he was missing.  For someone who seemed to have everything, he felt like he was missing something in his life and he wanted to find it.