GREY, ERIC ANTHONY

[ERIC ANTHONY GREY]

ERIC ANTHONY GREY

TWENTY FIVE , BREAK THE ROUTINE, MANAGER, SARCASTIC, JEREMY DAVIS, BISEXUAL

Hey, I'm Eric Grey, the manager of Breaking The Routine. I'm not new to touring, I've experienced it a lot in the past eight years of my life, it starting off when I was in my own band. But I should really wait until later to get into detail, for now, I'll start from the start.
I've always grown up with a decent amount of money. My family never really worried about losing our house, or not having groceries for the week, etc,. So when it came to instruments, they were not hard to get my hands on them. My dad and mom owned and still own a music store back in my home town, which surprisingly did very well. Usually you hear a lot about music stores closing down, especially the small ones that usually only have local band CDs, or well known artists, which doesn't give a large variety to choose from. Fortunately, the kids seemed to love my dad's music store, especially since they had bands play there every so often. So really music has been with me for my entire life, especially guitar, since that's what my dad knew how to play, and showed me how to play.
In school I was the band geek kid, the one you'd always find in the pictures of your school year book under the 'band' category, even though we weren't exactly geeks. The majority of kids in my school's band was pretty much a bunch of kids like me; they were obsessed with music inside and out, and wouldn't mind getting into the specifics of how to play an instrument. Mind you, most of them went off to be something entirely different than they set off to be. My first band I was in had been formed with a couple of kids I hung out with. We all knew how to play an instrument, and we all had a garage that could be a practice place. We ended up being noticed by a small record label in my town, and went on a few tours across the state, before upgrading to across the country. We glided through the music scene, playing small gigs at bars and other places, and never really became too big. The biggest thing that had happened to the band would have to be when we opened up for a far more bigger band, but it didn't get us out there.
When I turned twenty two, we broke up, mostly because we couldn't bare to be around eachother anymore. Me especially. I'm a sarcastic guy, I always say the opposite of what I'm actually feeling, just to get a few laughs. When you're stuck in a van with a couple of guys who are moody, it didn't really swing to well. At this point in time, it was when I really started pushing people away by saying rude comments, because we just couldn't do it anymore. We split, on a bad note, and I haven't really talked to any of them.
I went on from being a guitarist of a band, to being a manager of another. I had to admit I couldn't stay away from being on the road, and hearing live music 24/7. Of course, this band became bigger than my band had, so the bus has a lot more room, but there's no doubt in my mind that I haven't changed. I still say rude and sarcastic comments when I'm moody, sarcastic comments on a regular basis. It's just what happens when you see the same people all day, every day.

HEY, MY NAME IS EMILY. I HAVE BEEN ROLE-PLAYING FOR FOUR YEARS. I PLAY NO OTHER CHARACTERS, AND HERE'S A SAMPLE OF WHAT I CAN DO;

The swift movement of his fingers across the keyboard was fluent, and relaxed. His eyes were closed, and he lost himself in the beautiful melody he played on the keyboard he often hid away from the rest of the world, shy about his talent to play piano. Toby let his fingers glide at will, pressing the buttons with a gentle touch, in his subconscious mind he noted that he had feared of breaking his soothing method, which was impossible unless he committed barbarian behaviour. But he felt the world's weight lifted off him, he felt light, like he was immune to gravity. His stomach felt like it had be thrown forward and back, like it would if he were on a theme-park ride, launched into the air and would get this feeling as though he were flying.
He messed up a note, which caused his eyes to shoot open, and he slammed the palms of his hands on his keyboard in frustration. For days he practiced the same song, for days he put effort and dedication into one song to get it right. He was not striving to be a perfectionist, he did not usually go to such lengths to have something be so perfect, but something that once tuned the rest of the world out because he needed something to block out roaring voices, it soon turned into an obsession.
He rose from his stool, and packed away his most prized posession, storing it away in his personal closet that was actually neat compared to everything else on his half of the room. His closet was where he stored his instruments, so of course he would have to have it be clean. He didn't want his guitar string to age twice as fast as it usually would, becoming rusted to the point his fingers hurt when they plucked at them quickly. He always made sure Declan, his room mate, stayed clear of the closet, putting up a 'do not open' sign on the closet, knowing it was no barrier to keep the British boy from opening it, but it comforted him to think that maybe the other boy would be nice enough as to respect Toby's wishes.
Toby could not admit they were on good terms so far, with the just under steady bickering that happened between the two, along with the sudden acts of giving Toby wedgies, Toby just wasn't sure of what to think of Declan. Toby wasn't a hateful person, if something or someone bothered him, he'd hide away the only way he knew how, and assumed it would all brush over on both ends of the argument. So hating Declan was out of the question, somewhat irritated would work fine, though. The boy always needing to be clean really just ruined his days when he was forced to clean, even in his youth days he didn't have to keep the place as spotless as Declan's expectations.
Toby slid shut the closet, turning to his unmade bed, and crashed on to it, allowing the warmth of his bed to welcome him with open arms. He climbed his way up to his pillow, letting his face burry into the fluffy head rest. He lay on his stomach, his back bare, which was a rare occasion, usuay too shy to even think about walking around with any body part revealed, with sweat pants. He was too lazy to leave, but too inspired to just lay around and hope something creative would form out of nothingness. He let out a groan of frustration, it being muffled by the pillow his face was hidden in.

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