Miles to Go (17 page)

The Worst Trip Ever

M
y album
Breakout
was released right after we finished shooting the movie. I immediately started doing publicity for the album and another movie,
Bolt
, an animated movie in which I am the voice of a girl named Penny.

When we were planning
Breakout
, I went into the studio with my producers, Antonina and Tim, and said I wanted to do an album that was more rock ’n’ roll than pop. I wanted the album to be successful, duh, especially because it was my first Hannah-free album. But more than that I wanted it to be
my
music. The music I wanted to write.
(And yes, a lot of the songs were about breaking up with Prince Charming! I'm human!)

At the 50th Grammy Awards, I presented an award with Cyndi Lauper. We were hanging out backstage, talking about the Stones and other music—we seemed to have similar taste. And then she looked at me and said, “Well, don’t be scared of anything. People waste their lives being scared. Lasso the moon. But don’t do it because someone tells you it’s the right idea.” I got what she was saying. It was exactly what I was trying to do with
Breakout
. And I thought Cyndi Lauper was so cool that I added a cover of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” to the album.

Now it was time to promote it. In order to appear on
Good Morning America
I got on a plane in Los Angeles at seven p.m. It was me, my mom, and my sister Brandi on a private plane, and I don’t know why, but Brandi and I just didn’t sleep. We were too wired, playing Bon Jovi and Coldplay and watching the movie
Juno
. My mom kept telling me that I had to be on
Good Morning America
in just a few hours. In fact, it was already the same “morning.” She reminded me that it was
live national television
. But eventually she gave up.

So we arrived in New York at three in the morning. I had to be at
Good Morning America
to get hair and makeup at 4:30. We checked into a hotel and tried to nap for half an hour. The three of us. In one bed. My mom is 5'7. Brandi is 5'6. I was curled up between them, trying to sleep, but Mom was all restless because she was so stressed about my being tired. It was a mess.

I “slept” for half an hour, went to hair and makeup, and showed up to do the sound check for the
Good Morning America
concert at six a.m. I performed at seven. The concert was no problem. The crowd gave me a rush, and I love performing. The concert finished at 8:30. Afterward, there was a half-hour meet and greet with a bunch of people. That’s when I started feeling like a nap was in order. No such luck. I was due at the
Today
show.

In the car to the
Today
show, it hit me. Sleep. Must sleep. I dozed off and could have slept for hours. Unfortunately, it was only a seven-block car ride. Two minutes of rest is like eating one bite of a cookie— frustrating and completely unsatisfying. But there was no time for naps, much less catnaps. At nine o’clock I did a taped segment for
Today
. I tried my best, but I was so tired I don’t even remember it. For all I know, I talked about how excited I was to be playing the role of Honky, Hannah Montana’s prize-winning goose. Delirious. There were more interviews until eleven, when I spent an hour as the announcer at a marathon to promote
Bolt
. By then I could barely keep my eyes open. I did one more interview, then Brandi, my mom, and I got in the car to the airport. I watched out the back window as the paparazzi chased the car. I was home in L.A. by three p.m., and back at work the next morning. Surprise, surprise, I was sick as a dog.

That felt like the hardest day ever. I know promotion is important. I always try to be professional about it, even though it can be pretty grueling. But if I knew how exhausting it would be, then why didn’t I sleep on the plane? That’s the ten-million-dollar question, isn’t it? Was it worth watching
Juno
with Brandi? Sure didn’t feel like it the next morning. But this is the problem when you’re sixteen and you have grown-up responsibilities. You don’t stop being sixteen.
(Until your 17th birthday!)

I’m a kid. That’s why, for the most part, we only did the big publicity and otherwise decided to let the album do whatever it was going to do. It was so weird not to do everything in my power to promote my first album under my own name. I am very proud of it and love what we came up with. But I also had to accept the reality of my situation. So much is happening all at once, so many opportunities. I want to make the most of them, but I also I need to stay sane.
(Sleep, eat, have real friendships, spend time with my family.)
There will be a day, my parents constantly remind me, when I won’t have so much going on. And when that day comes, I don’t want to feel like an empty shell of a person.

Questions to Be Answered

E
ven though I didn’t promote the album aggressively, I did and do give lots of interviews to TV, radio, and magazines. No matter how hard I try to keep it real, some of it is fake. Not fake because I’m lying or pretending to be someone I’m not, but fake because people ask me questions I can’t answer. They ask, “What do you do with your free time?” How can I answer that? Stuff. I don’t know. I want to say, “How do
you
spend
your
free time? On the computer? Yeah, me too.” Or sometimes they’ll ask, “What was your inspiration for ‘7 Things’?”
You already know the answer, everyone knows the answer, so why do you ask me?
They’re trying to get me upset or make me uncomfortable, because that makes a “hot” interview. It’s so hard to give a decent answer to “What’s it like being Hannah Montana?” I’ve been asked that question at least
a hundred
(make that a million)
times . Oh, and then there are all the supposedly smart media people who pretend to be completely confused by Hannah Montana, Miley Stewart, and Miley Cyrus. It’s just not that hard. Watch one episode. You’ll get it.

I always get asked: “What’s it like working with your dad?” Nobody ever asks me about my mom, who is always always there for me. She’s like a sister to me (and trust me, we fight like sisters), but she never stops being the mother who keeps me safe. You know, even if they did ask about Mom, I’d have trouble answering. I’ll tell you this. She doesn’t care about my job—she just wants me to be happy. And she’s talented at what she does. She doesn’t define herself by my success or try to live through me. She’s a normal mom, a mom who loves me not because of what I do but because of who I am as a person. She’s why I’ve been able to keep my head on straight.

Mom is so woven into my daily life I wouldn’t know which strand to pull out to describe us. I mean, I just called her because I have my big sweet-sixteen party this weekend, and I’m bloated and freaked out that my dress won’t fit. Mom was absolutely calm, as always, saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.” That’s today, but can’t you see how she’s always there: replacing my dead fish, presenting me with a cheer-leading trophy, driving me from Toronto to Alabama for a bit part, getting me out of bed when my bad skin got me down, supporting me, grounding me, comforting me, helping me find my way? She really is my hero, and I want to be just like her.
(Okay,
this
you can mention to Mom.)

As for my dad, it’s so tough to answer what it’s like mention to being on a TV show with him. I always talk about how he is a best friend to me and how we put work away when we leave the set. I say the same answer over and over, a zillion times. And it’s true. But—same as with my mom—how am I supposed to communicate everything that there is about my relationship with my dad in three sentences or less? It’s impossible. I can never capture how we are together. Nobody can understand that. So I can’t really answer the question genuinely. And it’s not like they really want me to. They just want my little sound bite to fit neatly in their magazine or TV show or radio spot. There’s no way that space could contain a whole person. But I need them to promote my work. And they need me to promote their shows. So we all just keep on doing our jobs as well as we can. I try to be present, and I try to be real.

But about my dad . . .

More than Ovaltine

W
ell, here’s my chance to talk a little bit about having such a great dad. I got really lucky. True, he couldn’t be around all the time—he was often working in some other town for stretches of time. I never understood that when I was younger, but now I do, because I have to do the same thing. My little sister, Noah, will say, “Why do you have to leave?” And now I know that there’s a show that has to go on. Whether it’s
Hannah Montana
, a tour, or a recording session, there are other people involved. They’re counting on me (and everyone else) to show up. I guess this is a lesson that lots of people learn when they start working. A job is a different responsibility from school. If you don’t go to school, it’s your loss.

But if you don’t go to work, other people are affected, their families are affected. When my dad has to leave, he’s just got to.

My dad has never had a nine-to-five job in my lifetime. We try to have breakfast every morning and dinner every night, but his schedule is pretty much always changing. That can be hard. But then, when he does come home, it’s the best feeling in the world. For the next few weeks we have his complete attention, and we milk it for all it’s worth.

What makes my dad so special is the time we spend together. How can I explain
time
? If we take a two-hour horse ride through the country around our house in Franklin, I can tell you where we went and what we did. I can describe the big, beautiful sky. I can tell you some of the words we exchanged, and how peaceful and exhilarating the silences were. I can even describe how my dad likes to lay some folk wisdom on me, telling me stories I’ve heard a million times, or how he likes to remind me that when he was at his professional peak, he didn’t have anything, that being on this farm with his family is everything to him. Maybe that will help you understand. Our Ovaltine mornings may be a sweet story, but even that probably doesn’t do the trick. Maybe I should tell you that Dad wants “Over the Rainbow” played at his funeral because that’s what Pappy wanted, but that I want us to dance to it at my wedding so we can give the song a new, happier association. But I’m not sure I believe in the power of words or music to truly capture what passes between two people. The best I can hope for is that you’ll connect my description to something that is true for you.

The media has said some stuff about my dad and me being too close or too cuddly for a father and daughter. For me and my dad, it’s not weird at all. And who cares if the public likes it or not? I think it’s special that we’re still a father and a daughter, that we love each other, that we aren’t afraid to show it, and that we don’t let other people tell us what expressions we’re supposed to have on our faces when we take a picture together!

I say who cares, but of course it’s hard not to care. I have feelings. It’s painful to see some of those nasty comments on the Internet. I’m not saying everyone has to love me, but some people are so full of anger, hatred, and bitterness. When I’m not ignoring them or feeling hurt by what they say about me, I worry about the people who write those cruel comments. What made them so angry? Why are they sitting at home saying horrid things? Why aren’t they at the mall with their friends?

When
Hannah Montana
got popular, I knew the media attention was going to come. True, I didn’t expect the paparazzi to follow me around
all
the time, but I know it’s part of the job. For the most part, I can let the gossip roll off my back. The first negative rumor about me was that I was pregnant. I was fourteen. I was just like,
Well, that’s stupid
. I don’t change my life. I try to treat the media—including the paparazzi—with respect. I treat them like friends. Heck, sometimes I see them more than I see my real friends. They’re not going away. That’s the way it is, and I live with it.

I try to be a good role model, and that’s why I think it’s too bad that lots of people hope to make money off my mistakes. I wish they could make money off my achievements. Actually, there are people who do that too. When I heard that a photo of me kissing someone (not a failure or an achievement—just a private moment) could earn someone $150,000, I told Brandi, “I’ll send the picture to you, and then you can buy a house.”

The only way I can respond to all of this is to put good into the world. Like Dad says (well, Newton, really), for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I’m aiming for the positive in whatever I do.