Post by brayden cordivari on Oct 25, 2009 18:22:23 GMT -5
[/color][/center][/blockquote]BRAYDEN JAMES CORDIVARI
it started with a low light
" I'll stay here and knit us all sweaters "
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NEXT THING I KNEW[/color][/blockquote]
they ripped me from my bed
[/b][/color] Brayden James Cordivari
NICKNAMES: Brady, Den, Denny
GENDER: Male
AGE: 16
SEXUALITY: Transsexual
YEAR: Junior
CLIQUES: crayon, pencil, charcoal
MAJORING IN: sculpture
FACE CLAIM: Lucas Klein
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AND THEN THEY TOOK[/color][/blockquote]
my bloodtype, they left a
[/b][/color] I absolutely loath being in open spaces, or being the center of attention. It's why I grow my hair long. I can hide behind it. I don't know why, but I don't like other people knowing what I'm feeling, or what's running through my mind. If someone's watching me too intently, my palms start to sweat, my throat constricts, and my body temperature sky-rockets. I like my personal space.
2. I worry over everything. It's common knowledge. The reason I don't take any serious risks, or bother saying hi to any of the populars, is because I worry about what the outcome would be. What is that called, insecurity? Low self-esteem? Whatever it is, it makes my insides run around like a decapitated chicken every time something doesn't work out the way it should. Mom doesn't call at eight o'clock? I start pacing my room imaging her getting jumped in a dark alley. Get anything less than an A on an assignment? I start yelling at myself because it is not acceptable college work.
3. I'm a perfectionist. Really, it's true. All the photos in my dorm and hung levelly on the walls, never skew. I have to iron my shirts after wearing them to make sure they stay wrinkle free. My shoe laces are tied symmetrically. Maybe another word for that is OCD. I don't like working on group projects because nobody does anything the right way. If I don't have everything set in order, I go completely mental.
4. If my father mails anything for me, don't give it to me. Just don't. Please.
5. The third stall from the back is my property from 2 in the afternoon until 2:30. That's where I go to vent. There are probably stains on the title where my tears pool. Nobody ever bothers me in there - they all think the stall's being used for something else. Genius right?
6. Surprisingly enough, I have a very sarcastic sense of humor. Most of the retorts and/or jokes I come up with, I keep to myself. However, if I were to let them loose, I guarantee someone's feelings would get hurt. That's what I'm most afraid of: becoming one of the people I despise. So I just keep things like that confined to my own mind.
7. I can't flirt. Or talk to people in general. It just doesn't work. I'm what you would call socially awkward. I don't know what happens, I just freeze up. Then I end up blurting some random fun fact that no one really gives a shit about and scare the person away. That's why I keep to myself most of the time, or let other people instigate the conversation and try to stick to the topic they introduce.
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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 pm or xCOOKIESbah@live.com or through amanda parker. now i'll show you what i'm made of.
Footfalls rang out through the hallways as William Radfield, better known among his peers and teachers as "Bill," made a mad dash for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He probably looked like an idiot at the speed he was going. Sheets of parchment covered in his neat, small handwriting that had found a way to poke through the open zipper on his bag flapped violently as he sped around a corner. Why was he running so fast? Simple. There was a poltergeist on his tail. His left shoulder was already soaking wet from an unexpected water balloon attack... he didn't want to go through that again. One step further landed him smack-dab in the middle of a crowd of students standing around the door to the classroom. What the... Shouldn't they all be inside already? Was it really that hard to open a door? As if the door had read his mind, it thrust itself open. The students spilled into the classroom, Bill being dragged along in their wake. They were greeted by a younger professor with light blond curls, who was smiling a little too pleasantly.
"Good morning everyone. Please find your assigned seats and we'll get started."
Her words came out in a rush, with a note of hysteria to her tone. Bill couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the woman. This must be her first class... and she had to deal with this crowd. The same ones who couldn't even get a door open without the use of magic, let alone defend themselves properly. Bill was fairly competent with a wand, but the badger emblem on his robes usually got him ignored, no matter what efforts he put forth into a class. Especially Potions... he gave an involuntary shudder. That was yet another road he didn't want to go down again. Assigned seats. Was there some sort of seating chart he hadn't seen that they were supposed to be following? Bill saw a girl he recognized as none other than Summer Palin take a seat in the middle of the room, and there was no indication to show that it was supposed to be her seat. Shrugging, he took the fourth seat in in the third row.
"I am Professor Thompson. There is not much you need to know about me. I am Ravenclaw but I will not be favoring anyone. I have no family so there are no stories to tell you about them. I am pleased to see you here and trust you will put forth your best effort."
His best effort was something that Bill always gave, regardless of the class. He was a hopeless nerd in that area. He still got the impression that Professor Thompson was trying a bit too hard to get the students to like her, what with her flashing dazzling smiles every few seconds. The professor whipped out her wand and pointed it at a closet on the other side of the room. With a simple flick, she summoned forth a chest of some sort. Bill quirked an eyebrow. What could be inside that chest? It was definitely something Defense Against the Dark Arts related, otherwise he doubted Professor Thompson would have bothered fetching it in the first place. It set Bill on edge, not knowing what he was up against. Then again, he never had. Ever since Butch and his thug buddies... He shook his head. There were too many taboos in his life, and he'd just brought another one of them up.
"You will need your wands and I would like a volunteer."
Oh. That made it perfectly obvious. They were discussing boggarts. It was only an educated guess, but it made perfect sense to Bill. The chest, the wands, it was all eerily familiar. He'd studied boggarts before in previous years, and each new professor seemed to introduce the unit the same way. He heard Miss Palin give a snappy remark to the professor, regarding whether or not she would be a willing volunteer. She claimed she would only volunteer if she needed to. That was... incorrect in so many ways. Volunteers were people who did things because they wanted to, not because they needed to. So, in saying that she would only volunteer if she needed to, Summer was saying that she wouldn't volunteer at all. She could only be forced. So that sentence made no sense. Guh... nerd? his conscience barked. Bill ignored it as he reached into his pocket for his wand. Drawing it, he stood up. "I'd like to volunteer, Professor Thompson." He'd done this before... it would be a sinch.
"Good morning everyone. Please find your assigned seats and we'll get started."
Her words came out in a rush, with a note of hysteria to her tone. Bill couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the woman. This must be her first class... and she had to deal with this crowd. The same ones who couldn't even get a door open without the use of magic, let alone defend themselves properly. Bill was fairly competent with a wand, but the badger emblem on his robes usually got him ignored, no matter what efforts he put forth into a class. Especially Potions... he gave an involuntary shudder. That was yet another road he didn't want to go down again. Assigned seats. Was there some sort of seating chart he hadn't seen that they were supposed to be following? Bill saw a girl he recognized as none other than Summer Palin take a seat in the middle of the room, and there was no indication to show that it was supposed to be her seat. Shrugging, he took the fourth seat in in the third row.
"I am Professor Thompson. There is not much you need to know about me. I am Ravenclaw but I will not be favoring anyone. I have no family so there are no stories to tell you about them. I am pleased to see you here and trust you will put forth your best effort."
His best effort was something that Bill always gave, regardless of the class. He was a hopeless nerd in that area. He still got the impression that Professor Thompson was trying a bit too hard to get the students to like her, what with her flashing dazzling smiles every few seconds. The professor whipped out her wand and pointed it at a closet on the other side of the room. With a simple flick, she summoned forth a chest of some sort. Bill quirked an eyebrow. What could be inside that chest? It was definitely something Defense Against the Dark Arts related, otherwise he doubted Professor Thompson would have bothered fetching it in the first place. It set Bill on edge, not knowing what he was up against. Then again, he never had. Ever since Butch and his thug buddies... He shook his head. There were too many taboos in his life, and he'd just brought another one of them up.
"You will need your wands and I would like a volunteer."
Oh. That made it perfectly obvious. They were discussing boggarts. It was only an educated guess, but it made perfect sense to Bill. The chest, the wands, it was all eerily familiar. He'd studied boggarts before in previous years, and each new professor seemed to introduce the unit the same way. He heard Miss Palin give a snappy remark to the professor, regarding whether or not she would be a willing volunteer. She claimed she would only volunteer if she needed to. That was... incorrect in so many ways. Volunteers were people who did things because they wanted to, not because they needed to. So, in saying that she would only volunteer if she needed to, Summer was saying that she wouldn't volunteer at all. She could only be forced. So that sentence made no sense. Guh... nerd? his conscience barked. Bill ignored it as he reached into his pocket for his wand. Drawing it, he stood up. "I'd like to volunteer, Professor Thompson." He'd done this before... it would be a sinch.
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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