Post by aristotle luna williams on Apr 18, 2011 20:42:23 GMT -5
ARISTOTLE LUNA WILLIAMS
Cover up with make up in the mirror
tell yourself, it's never gonna happen again
you cry alone and then he swears he loves you.
Cover up with make up in the mirror
tell yourself, it's never gonna happen again
you cry alone and then he swears he loves you.
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TAKING SWEET
TIME SAYING
OUR GOODBYES, ONE MINUTE MORE
TIME SAYING
OUR GOODBYES, ONE MINUTE MORE
GENDER: female
AGE: Seventeen
BIRTH DATE: June 20th
SEXUALITY: heterosexual
ETHNICITY: Italian/French
PLAY BY: Becky Lou Filip
HAIR COLOR: Red/Brown
EYE COLOR: Bright Blue
HEIGHT: 5'5''
WEIGHT: 128 lbs
TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: Ears
DESIRED CITIZEN OF: Beverly Hills
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FEW SCENES FROM MY LIFE
OR MOMENTS MEAN MORE TO ME
OR MOMENTS MEAN MORE TO ME
- Piano
- Music
- Art
- Reading
- Swimming
- Stars
- Sour Candies
- Partying
- Spider-man
- Small amounts of Alcohol
- Video games
DISLIKES:
- Rude people
- Ignorance
- Being Sick
- Animal Cruelty
- Liars
- Homophobic People
- Drunks
- Stuck-up
- Smoking
- The color Pink
- Coffee
STRENGTHS:
- Piano/Guitar
- School
- Strategy
- Optomistic
WEAKNESSES:
- Saying 'no' for people that need help
- Teaching
- Doesn't trust easily
PERSONALITY:
- Sweet
- Caring
- Intellegent
- Mature
- Musically Talented
- Book worm
- Secretive
- Party Enthusiast
- Optomistic
- Sarcastic
- Smart-ass
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TWO, TWELVE, NINETY-NINE
AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT
AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT
FATHER: Illario Williams & 41; passed away
SIBLINGS: n/a
OTHER IMPORTANT PEOPLE: Ellie Barnes & 32; aunt
ORIGIN: Verona, Italy. Moved to Paris, France when eight. Moved to Beverly Hills when sixteen.
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PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME
WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE
WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE
AGE: 16
EXPERIENCE: four years
OTHER CHARACTERS: n/a
WRITING SAMPLE: remember, third person, past tense.
Aristotle had to stay after school and prepare for a speech tomorrow in class. She had to give a speech on where she was from and how she came here. She’d been here for a couple of weeks and already the teachers were asking so much of her. Her French teacher wanted her to do the entire thing in French. Which, of course, wasn’t hard, but she didn’t like to speak in front of everyone in class. Then again, there were only a few people in French 4. She didn’t know anyone in the class and it made her feel weird. Her teacher made her a rubric on what to put in the essay and everything. She told Ari that she could leave out the details about her parents, but she wanted her to explain Italy and France in comparison against the United States.
She sat at a desk near the door of the French classroom. She constantly looked at the clock in anticipation for four thirty. Her teacher said that if she wasn’t done with her essay by four thirty, she would have the weekend to work on it. But, then she would have to present pictures on Monday. She already didn’t like this teacher. It bothered her to be sitting at a desk on such a nice day. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPod. She put it on shuffle and began to write the essay. It seemed a lot easier to do when she was listening to music. She began to bob her head along with the beat and tap her foot and then she began to sing quietly to herself.
She stopped about half way through her essay and began to reread it to herself. It started off with I was born in Italy, but moved to France with my mother when my father passed away… That was exciting. She had no idea how to spice this essay up without saying anything that was a lie. She slammed her head against her desk and sighed super loud. Good thing her French teacher wasn’t here. She had to go to a teacher’s meeting or something like that. She looked out the door and watched people walk by. Freedom. It never sounded so much better.
She sat at a desk near the door of the French classroom. She constantly looked at the clock in anticipation for four thirty. Her teacher said that if she wasn’t done with her essay by four thirty, she would have the weekend to work on it. But, then she would have to present pictures on Monday. She already didn’t like this teacher. It bothered her to be sitting at a desk on such a nice day. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPod. She put it on shuffle and began to write the essay. It seemed a lot easier to do when she was listening to music. She began to bob her head along with the beat and tap her foot and then she began to sing quietly to herself.
She stopped about half way through her essay and began to reread it to herself. It started off with I was born in Italy, but moved to France with my mother when my father passed away… That was exciting. She had no idea how to spice this essay up without saying anything that was a lie. She slammed her head against her desk and sighed super loud. Good thing her French teacher wasn’t here. She had to go to a teacher’s meeting or something like that. She looked out the door and watched people walk by. Freedom. It never sounded so much better.
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application template credit to samantha rae of caution 2.0. lyrics credit to the starting line. please don't steal!
application template credit to samantha rae of caution 2.0. lyrics credit to the starting line. please don't steal!