Alexander Martinez (11) FINISHED
May 15, 2011 21:54:19 GMT -5
Post by Arrow on May 15, 2011 21:54:19 GMT -5
.:ALEXANDER-TROY-MARTINEZ:.
Last time I checked, I was seventeen years of age.
I know I'm male.
I live in District 11
Last time I checked, I was seventeen years of age.
I know I'm male.
I live in District 11
.:See how I'll leave with every piece of you,
Don't underestimate the things that I will do:.
Don't underestimate the things that I will do:.
Let's start off with the basics of me. I stand at 5'7, which I think is pretty much normal, or maybe an inch or so taller, for many of the guys I see these days in my district. My size doesn't make my head tower above everyone else in a crowd, or shrink so far below everybody else looks like skyscrapers. Personally, this is the height I'd like to stay at. I weigh one hundred and twenty nine pounds, which might be a little bit over the weight of most of the people in our food deprived district, even though ironically, we're surrounded by it. Yet, if we eat it, we risk being shot. My skin is a dark olive, I'm not that athletic, and I have short, semi curly black hair and dark brown eyes. Now I might as well go a bit deeper into detail.
My head is a general oval shape, slightly growing outwards towards the crown of my head, making my cheekbones sink in a little into my face. My ears are actually a little bit on the small side, which shocked my father, whom had elephant ears and many say I tend to take after. My eyebrows are thick and dark and arch in an ever sarcastic and cocky look over my eyes. Like my ears, my eyes are a bit on the small side. Not perfectly round, or perfectly shaped, ether. The irises are a luscious dark brown. My eyelashes aren't that long, even for a dude. My nose, on the other hand is slightly large. It doesn't jut out from my face like one might think a large nose does, but is, just very fat. That's the simplest way I can put it. It's not like, long and pointy as an eagle's talon, but fat. It spans out, almost as wide as my lips, over my face. My lips are full, though they have an annoying tendency to become chapped.
My hair is short. My sideburns aren't long or that out of the ordinary. They dip down and fill the what would be empty dark skin between my undersized ears and the corners of my face. The hair, even on my sideburns, is a shade of pitch black and slightly curled. I'm not one of those kids you rarely see with frizzy, ludicrous hair that juts out at all angels from their head. I like to consider the slight, almost barley noticeable curls in my hair controlled little waves in my dark hair.
As for my body, I'm not very athletic. I hate to spend days in the rolling fields harvesting crops, my back bent over being kissed by the hot sun on cloudless days. I can't really stand to get sweaty, or wet, for the matter. My Mom would always joke that I was like a cat, lazy, spoiled, and despicable of water. I can run fast, yes, but that's not really the meaning of athletic. I would know what it means, being the walking dictionary that I am. My hands and fingers are rough with the years of yanking the hard to get crops out of the cracked earth, and for many other reasons. My body is slightly toned, however. Working out in the fields will give you a bit of muscle. Even though I despise working to look good, sometimes I do, just to keep the ladies coming in.
My vision isn't exactly good, though I'm not going to go blind. I'm not even close to it. I assume that my vision is around 25-20, so it's not that horribly bad, just sometimes will get fuzzy and it will be difficult to see things from far away, especially in the bright light. So, I actually have these huge, nerdy looking black glasses that I don't wear. Even though it cost my parents a lot to buy them, I don't wear them, just like I like to go by my middle name instead of my first, as you could see in my picture. I'm not one of those airheaded guys who care about their appearance, but I at least want to be popular. Don't be surprised if I bump into you one day. If you're wearing brown, and you're far away, you'll look like a tree to me.
.:Baby, I have no story to be told,
But I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn:.
[/color][/center]But I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn:.
Anyone in the mood for a bit of romancing? Flirting has always been a hobby, or strength of mine. I've always had a way with the ladies, if you would like to put it that way. They seem to swoon and fall into the orifice of attraction, not affection or love, with me. If you're wondering, I am a virgin. Though I am one of the make out behind the school type of boys, I simply keep it at that and flirting. I don't want to be labeled as a bad kid, cause' I'm not. I like being a schmoozer, sometimes labeled as a hopeless romantic flirty type of guy. Not a trouble maker.
If I was asked to put an occupation, I would have immediately jotted down class clown. Being funny, just like flirting, is another one of my social interactions strengths. Wisecracking and mockery are my two best subjects in the wide family tree of jokes. I might go a little too far, though. My humor, when around strangers and friends alike, after a short period of time, will take a crude and obnoxious turn. Basically, bathroom humor and overused sex jokes with a bit of spiteful, yet in my view humorous insults. Some people will become so uncomfortable they'll walk off. I really don't see what is wrong with crude jokes. They're just that- crude jokes cracked by an immature boy. I'm not actually immature, though, I just act like it to fit in with most of the other boys my age.
Now I can get back to my occupation- that is, one that isn't required by the district's forced industry by the capitol. Just the basis of being class clown. Being a goofball is one of my favorite pass times or hobbies. The feeling of watching my friends crack up around me makes me happy- even when the ones who know me crack up at my crude jokes. Most of the people I consider friends are just as crude and insensitive as me. I pull practical jokes. In school, sometimes I'll take the risk of putting the tack on the teacher's chair, stupid little pranks like that, or just take it to verbal wisecracking in front of the whole class while we wait for the teacher to show up. they say laughing is healthy for you. If that's true, I should be one of the healthiest people in the world.
Not many people would think that someone with a personality like this wouldn't be very smart. To some, I sound like just another airheaded sixteen year old boy. I act that way because I care about my image and how other people think of me, and being considered a nerd is not on my list of an ideal image or thought from my peers. So I pose as just a typical, wisecracking guy, when really, I'm actually pretty smart. Not sure what my exact IQ is. Even my closest friends don't know my secret. The only ones that know are my parents and little sister. Then one other person, but she doesn't matter anymore. My dad always calls me a walking dictionary, because my strongest subject is Communication Arts. I'm a word nerd, so to speak, even though I'm gifted in all subjects, I excel even more in Communication Arts. Secretly, of course. I try hard to maintain average grades. I like to go by Troy, my middle name, because it sounds cooler, way cooler, to me than Alexander does. I don't know many people who aren't shunned from society named Alexander, or wear thick, nerdy looking glasses.
Every boy in their lives will go through a curious stage when they're around ten or so, maybe younger, maybe older. They start to wonder about things, and want to explore. For me, I never totally grew out of it. For me, I started budding the desire to explore around seven. That's how I got smart, I like to think. I tried to take in as much information as I possible could from the land, the people, and the animals around me. Books aren't that common, , highly uncommon to better phrase that, in the second to poorest district. Sometimes I'll still explore and poke around, but usually I'm too busy hanging out with the other cool kids to really care anymore.
Little kids like to lay down and imagine pictures out of clouds, usually plain old cumulus clouds, puffy, rolling and white in the light blue ocean of the afternoon sky. Sometimes I'll just happen to look up, and since I'm slightly farsighted, the cumulus will morph into something. So, maybe I lack a little imagination. I do like to act like I'm in different situations sometimes though in my free time, in an old place I used to hang out with with somebody in my childhood. I might have a little bit of an actor inside of me, even though I pretty much act every single day of my life. I mean a different kind of actor, like an improv actor, doing whatever comes to mind instead of sticking to a script, which I have to do to stay cool.
Laziness is not a good quality for one to have, and though I'm usually not lazy, I can be at times. For example, when I said earlier I don't like to work for at least a semi good looking body, which thankfully, genetics has pretty much taken care of for me. Maybe I'm a bit of a couch potato. So what? I'm not athletic. I know that's not an excuse, and don't call me for it, because I know it's not. Sometimes, I just don't like to work for things. Which I need to get used to. One day I'll have to work to put food on the table.
Then there is my unbreakable bubble of snobby behaviors. I think I'm all that. i think I'm close to perfect, so i like to brag. I like to say I'm awesome, and a few times I've even named myself doctor cool. Some people don't like how full of myself I can be. Well, it's natural for all the cool guys to act like they're all that. Plus, I'm extra cocky and sarcastic.
.:Throw your soul through every open door,
Count your blessings to find what you look for,
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold:.
[/color] [/center]Count your blessings to find what you look for,
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold:.
My parents didn't meet on the best of circumstances. My mother, who at that time was known as Elena Swift, as at the tiny not so really hospital with my five year old half brother, Logan. Her husband, my Mother had been married before, had just died. My father, Jacob Martinez, was at the hospital for his ailing Mother, who would die soon after. They bumped into each other in the hall, and their relationship budded into a beautiful flower. A year later, they decided to marry each other after they were sure they were in love. It might seem rather quick and rushed, which they even said their engagement was, but they got married anyways, and it worked out. Not so long after they tied the knot, I was born.
My family was somewhat wealthy. I'm not sure where we get out money from. I think it's blood money, but we don't struggle as much to put food on the white wooden table in the center of the house. when I was little, I don't think I ever went to bed hungry. My Father would be gone a lot, I'll admit I never got to know him much when I was little. I aged up well though, and found things to entertain myself.
when I was six and Logan twelve, Mother had announced that she was unexpectedly pregnant. Her and Dad had just planned for it to be me and Logan. They decided to keep it anyways. Eight and a half months later, my sister, Susie, was born. She was born premature. Susie has always had a tiny, petite frame that she's never grown out of.
Shortly after the birth of Susie, which was a happy time for the household, Mom caught ear of Logan's misbehaving. He was getting into fights at school and stealing food from the fields. That stunned my Mother. He could get killed of avoxed for stealing the crops. Her and Father both dealt him a swift punishing, but it didn't work. I remember coming home from school that day to find my Mother, her face stained, sitting at the table. My Father was holding her hand. I found out right then that Logan had bled to death after being whipped.
For a while, even after he died, the house felt hollow and empty. Mother was beside herself, and Father had to work even harder to keep the money coming in, since Mother refused to do next to anything. I was usually the one who cared for my wailing baby sister. While Mother was just sitting around, her last piece of her first husband gone, Susie and I grew a bond with each other. I was the one who played with her, not our parents. As we both got older, we stuck together like glue.
When I was around ten, I was able to figure out I was smart. I could do things, even more so Communication Arts, than the other kids. I got the work done quicker. I was scared. I didn't know what it meant, so I tried to hide it. As the kids started considering me more and more popular, I knew I couldn't live with a foot in both worlds- the world of the cool and the world of the nerd. So, I ditched the nerd world. I started to act different that what was really me. I was a class clown, but I just wasn't, as, dumb, so to speak, as I acted. I was way smarter.
Mother had been diagnosed with depression by my father. he was no doctor, if we could ever get one out here, but he could tell. She had no motivation to do anything anymore, even almost half of Logan's age after he died. She was still acting melancholy, and almost refused to look at me or Susie. One day, she did what my father thought she had been planning for a long time- she killed herself.
The loss of my mother was a huge blow to my father. He kept me and Susie close, in fear of loosing the last of his family. I kept Susie closer. She hadn't felt that much sorrow in the loss of her Mother. She never really knew her. I was the one who took care of her most of the time. She might have cried a little, but that was all.
In the meantime of all the craziness at home, I met a girl at school. She had olive skin and long, shiny dark hair. Her eyes stuck out from the rest of her body- a mysterious shade of icy blue. Some called her a vixen. She was just an outcast, not really sure on how to make friends. My reputation as a cool kid hadn't yet had it's growth spurt just yet, so I decided to befriend her. She did live close to me. Her family was poor, though. Her name was Fawna.
We would hang out in the field after school. She went back there more than I had ever been in my whole life in her free time in just three years. She knew tons of cool places to hang out at. I would fallow her like a puppy on the days after school while she gave me the royal tour, as she liked to call it. our favorite spot to go together was a grove that was formed by two towering trees and thick bushes all around. It was a very secluded spot to go to.
When we were fifteen, we had planned to meet back there one day. I didn't hang out with her as much, because being a "cool kid" has consumed most of my time. She wasn't on my high list in my social life anymore. She didn't show up. I just assumed something had come up one day. She was the only one who knew I was really smart. The next day at school, I saw her, whispering to her tiny ring of friends things i had told her. I was shocked. What had happened between us? Since then, I've tried to avoid Fawna. Sometimes I'll still run into her, and when I do, it's anything but pleasant. She spreads lies about me now, and i do exactly the same.
When I turned sixteen, I had to double my work amount. Father was getting weaker, his classical jokes were becoming forced, and a ragged as a turtle's back cough always came before the punchline. His years of smoking were catching up with him. He couldn't force his body to do as much heavy duty as it used to, and without Mom, we did struggle to put food on the table, even with the blood money. his health has been rapidly declining.
Codeword? If you want to challenge me, don't make it this. Odair.
Main- 003399[/color]
Speech- FFCC33
other's Speech 66CC66
Lyrics FFFF33[/size]
