Post by amanda parker on Oct 22, 2009 12:46:50 GMT -5
[/color][/center][/blockquote]AMANDA ELOISE PARKER
it started with a low light
" she was like 'omg guess what?' and I was like, 'oh my god, shut up!' "
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NEXT THING I KNEW[/color][/blockquote]
they ripped me from my bed
[/b][/color] Amanda Eloise Parker
NICKNAMES: Amy, Mandy, Manda, Manders
GENDER: Female
AGE: 17
SEXUALITY: Straight
YEAR: Junior
CLIQUES: charcoal, spray paint, and finger paint
MAJORING IN: film
FACE CLAIM: Kaelin Marie
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AND THEN THEY TOOK[/color][/blockquote]
my bloodtype, they left a
[/b][/color] I'm accident prone. I swear to God, there is a cot in the hospital with my name stenciled on it. I have cracked my head open, broken my arm, fractured my collar bone... pretty much everything. I have scars all over the place, except for on my face. Each scar has its own story, and I've learned a lesson from every single one of them.
2. Emo, to me, is too broad a label. In our society, we consider anyone who wears clothes from Hot Topic, likes to dye their hair funky colors, and has a piercing (or piercings) emo. In truth, being emo has nothing to do with what you look like. There could be people who dress like an emo kid because they like the style, yet they're happy-bubbly and jump all over the place. Then there are the people like me: the real emos. The ones who feel trapped in our current setting, the ones who want to express themselves but are too scared of rejection to try, and the ones who cry themselves to sleep at night because they're ego's been bruised by someone they tried to convince themselves they didn't care about.
3. Do I write songs? Hell yeah. Songs, poetry, whatever you wish to call it. Songs are supposed to be poetry set to words, but that definition was lost at the beginning of the twentieth century. Now, songs are anything with a beat and lyrics. Most songwriters write about things like sex and drugs and money just to sell. I, on the other hand, see the art of songwriting for what it is. It's a way of letting out your feelings, of self expression. You can say anything in a song, but disguise it so that your listeners really have to think to figure out what you're getting at. That's who I want my music to reach: the thinkers. It's a way of reaching it out to my kind.
4. While I do write songs, my true passion is film. Obviously, I chose that as my major. But the interesting part is why I did. I like being able to convey a message without saying it flat out, through demonstration. I like being able to show a feeling, rather than spell it out in words. I'll be honest, when I watch a decent movie, I get chills. I think that, since living is what we do every day, it is easier for people to relate to things being acted out, being lived. Words on a paper are just that: words. But to see is something else altogether.
5. So far, I have yet to meet one person I would consider a friend. You see the photoshops running around in their tightly-knit cliques, and yes, they stand by each other. But only to tear down and bash others. As soon as the "others" are taken care of, they work on attacking those 'close' to them. Friends aren't people who battle each other for power, friends are people who are there for each other, no matter what. Friends are people you can tell anything without having to worry that it'll be all over the gossip column the next day. So no, I don't have any friends. But as far as I'm concerned, the photoshops don't either. The difference between us is that one day, I will.
6. FOOD. ohmygodohmygodohmygod. This stuff is my bestest friend in the world. My parents never have to worry about me going anorexic on them because I can't go five minutes without eating something. I have a metabolism, thank God, and if I didn't, I'd probably just exercise the fat off. I wish supermodels shared my outlook. Even the photoshops. All of them that run around bone thin make me want to shove pie in there faces and scream, "EAT, YOU MORON!"
7. Am I depressed emo kid all the time? Yes. Do I act like it? No. As a matter of fact, you'll usually know when I'm most depressed, because I'll be bouncing off the walls. I read somewhere that when you smile, your body releases an enzyme that makes you happier. Therefore, I have this philosophy that if I act super-hyper-crazy when I feel down, I'll feel happier. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but I always try. And fair warning, I can be pretty darn random when I get in one of these "moods".
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STRANGE IMPRESSION
in my head, you know that i was hoping
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whoa there, my name is emmy and i happen to be of the female species. i currently have thirteen number of candles on my cake but i've got intermediate under my belt. i found this quirky site through Jackson Heights and like the good little member i am, i know you want me to say peanut butter clarinets. by the way, you can contact me via xCOOKIESbah@live.com or through pm. now i'll show you what i'm made of.
Only Skye would be out in the middle of the night exploring the Shrieking Shack. Nobody else was brave - or stupid - enough to try. Then again, Skye had nothing better to do. Her dad and little brother were both tucked away in their beds, and Emerie had conked out hours ago. Skye rarely went anywhere without her best friend nowadays, but she'd looked so peaceful in sleep. Probably dreaming of the boyfriend that actually cared about her, spent every waking moment loving her, and no one else... Skye gave the door to the Shack a mighty heave, her brows furrowing. Hadn't she promised herself to stop thinking about Tom over the summer? He was gone, probably for good, and he hadn't written her. For all she knew, they were over. Not that she cared, anyway. He was always checking out other girls, even when she was standing right in front of him.
While she could keep telling herself she didn't care, the hot tears pooling in her eyes said otherwise. Thoroughly annoyed, Skye brushed them away with an index finger. She let the door slam shut behind her, not even caring that the bang it made echoed through the entire Shack. She didn't believe in the stories that surrounded this place, all that horror and blood and gore. No beastie was going to jump out of the wall and get her. But it was definitely some place she wanted to see before she died. With all the recounts of macabre had spiked her interest. Skye didn't get queasy at the thought of blood. Quite the contrary. She was fascinated by medieval torture methods, gore movies sent her into fits of laughter, and she'd struck up conversations with her house ghost, the Bloody Baron. However, all that met her eye as of late were rotting boards.
A maggot-covered board lay in her path. Skye stepped gingerly over it without so much as a wrinkled nose. The floor didn't seem to like her forward progress. It groaned loudly at her. "Oh shut up!" Skye snapped, looking down at it. "You're made to get walked on, might as well take it like an oak." Oak... tree humor. Skye thwacked herself on the head and continued. The floor groaned again with each step she took. Skye might have ignored it, but it provided a nice distraction from all the thoughts buzzing around in her head. Gradually, as she began to laugh at herself for catching her foot on the splintering wood over and over again, the frown marring her face faded. In its place was that care-free grin she'd worn so many times before. Then her shoelace got caught on yet another splinter. Skye tried to take a step and her foot was whipped backward, into the splinter. Swearing under her breath, Skye bent down to release her lace.
The next part of her journey was a very dark, very ominous staircase. For a moment, Skye wished that she were allowed to use magic off school grounds. That was the down side to the summer holiday. Well, one of them. The other one was being away from hot professors. One in particular, who'd somehow managed to capture her attention in his class. Skye forced the thought from her mind. No use dwelling on that. Professors were strictly off-limits. She adjusted the bag she'd slung over her shoulder before producing a flashlight. It was one Muggle product Skye actually found some use for in her life. For example, when she had no wand with which to produce a lumos. Metal clinked from the depths of the bag, bringing to Skye's attention another Muggle product she enjoyed. She'd completely forgotten about the snacks she'd brought along for herself. Her grin widened as she freed the can of Dr. Pepper from her bag.
"Hello there," she said warmly to the can. "I forgot I had you in there." Tucking the flashlight into the crook of her elbow, she opened the can and raised it to her lips. One quick sip, and she was ready to continue. The sugar would help her keep from falling asleep on the stairs. Dr. Pepper in one hand, the flashlight in another, Skye began to ascend the staircase. Like every other part of the floor, the stairs groaned underneath her. "Come on!" she grumbled under her breath. "I am not that heavy!" Either she was heavier than she thought, or the staircase had been there a long time. Right after she fell silent, the step underneath her gave way. One moment, she was standing on solid wood. The next, her legs were swinging free. Instinctively, Skye'd reached out to wrap her arms around the railing. It held fast. Long enough for Skye to situate herself on the next step, anyway. She took another sip of the Dr. Pepper and kept right on trucking.
At the top of the stairs, Skye paused to take a breath. The beam of her flashlight fell on an open door leading off into a furnished room. The furniture wasn't what caught Skye's attention, however. What she'd noticed first was the trail of smeared blood leading from the landing to the doorway, and through. It wasn't brown and age-old. It was fresh. She could smell it. Skye began to follow the trail, a confused "What the..." passing her lips. She trailed off when she stepped through the door. There, laying on his side on the floor, was her History of Magic professor. Only.. he looked different. More pained, for one thing. But there were also claws where his fingers should have been. "Oh my god," Skye breathed. The can of Dr. Pepper slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, splashing brown liquid across Skye's sneakers. "Ares?" she asked in disbelief. Then she quickly corrected herself, "I mean.. er... Professor Chevalier?"
--- I know this is a different character, but she has the same personality ---
While she could keep telling herself she didn't care, the hot tears pooling in her eyes said otherwise. Thoroughly annoyed, Skye brushed them away with an index finger. She let the door slam shut behind her, not even caring that the bang it made echoed through the entire Shack. She didn't believe in the stories that surrounded this place, all that horror and blood and gore. No beastie was going to jump out of the wall and get her. But it was definitely some place she wanted to see before she died. With all the recounts of macabre had spiked her interest. Skye didn't get queasy at the thought of blood. Quite the contrary. She was fascinated by medieval torture methods, gore movies sent her into fits of laughter, and she'd struck up conversations with her house ghost, the Bloody Baron. However, all that met her eye as of late were rotting boards.
A maggot-covered board lay in her path. Skye stepped gingerly over it without so much as a wrinkled nose. The floor didn't seem to like her forward progress. It groaned loudly at her. "Oh shut up!" Skye snapped, looking down at it. "You're made to get walked on, might as well take it like an oak." Oak... tree humor. Skye thwacked herself on the head and continued. The floor groaned again with each step she took. Skye might have ignored it, but it provided a nice distraction from all the thoughts buzzing around in her head. Gradually, as she began to laugh at herself for catching her foot on the splintering wood over and over again, the frown marring her face faded. In its place was that care-free grin she'd worn so many times before. Then her shoelace got caught on yet another splinter. Skye tried to take a step and her foot was whipped backward, into the splinter. Swearing under her breath, Skye bent down to release her lace.
The next part of her journey was a very dark, very ominous staircase. For a moment, Skye wished that she were allowed to use magic off school grounds. That was the down side to the summer holiday. Well, one of them. The other one was being away from hot professors. One in particular, who'd somehow managed to capture her attention in his class. Skye forced the thought from her mind. No use dwelling on that. Professors were strictly off-limits. She adjusted the bag she'd slung over her shoulder before producing a flashlight. It was one Muggle product Skye actually found some use for in her life. For example, when she had no wand with which to produce a lumos. Metal clinked from the depths of the bag, bringing to Skye's attention another Muggle product she enjoyed. She'd completely forgotten about the snacks she'd brought along for herself. Her grin widened as she freed the can of Dr. Pepper from her bag.
"Hello there," she said warmly to the can. "I forgot I had you in there." Tucking the flashlight into the crook of her elbow, she opened the can and raised it to her lips. One quick sip, and she was ready to continue. The sugar would help her keep from falling asleep on the stairs. Dr. Pepper in one hand, the flashlight in another, Skye began to ascend the staircase. Like every other part of the floor, the stairs groaned underneath her. "Come on!" she grumbled under her breath. "I am not that heavy!" Either she was heavier than she thought, or the staircase had been there a long time. Right after she fell silent, the step underneath her gave way. One moment, she was standing on solid wood. The next, her legs were swinging free. Instinctively, Skye'd reached out to wrap her arms around the railing. It held fast. Long enough for Skye to situate herself on the next step, anyway. She took another sip of the Dr. Pepper and kept right on trucking.
At the top of the stairs, Skye paused to take a breath. The beam of her flashlight fell on an open door leading off into a furnished room. The furniture wasn't what caught Skye's attention, however. What she'd noticed first was the trail of smeared blood leading from the landing to the doorway, and through. It wasn't brown and age-old. It was fresh. She could smell it. Skye began to follow the trail, a confused "What the..." passing her lips. She trailed off when she stepped through the door. There, laying on his side on the floor, was her History of Magic professor. Only.. he looked different. More pained, for one thing. But there were also claws where his fingers should have been. "Oh my god," Skye breathed. The can of Dr. Pepper slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, splashing brown liquid across Skye's sneakers. "Ares?" she asked in disbelief. Then she quickly corrected herself, "I mean.. er... Professor Chevalier?"
--- I know this is a different character, but she has the same personality ---
THAT I COULD LEAVE
this starcrossed world behind
this apptemplate was made by chaela and laurel from charcoal eyes, guys, and the titles are from spaceman by the killers
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