Post by christianwiess on Aug 4, 2011 18:48:19 GMT -6
CHRISTIANNICHOLASWEISS
“Well, tell me a little about yourself. What’s your name?”
My name, as I’m sure your file indicates is Christian Nicholas Weiss. A lot of people choose to call me Chris. I personally prefer Christian, but I’m really not that bothered either way. Nicholas was my Grandfather’s name. He died a few weeks before I was born, so I guess my parents dropped that in as tribute to him or some shit. I don’t really know. As for Christian, my mom just liked it. She told me if I’d been a girl, my name would have been Christianne. So I guess she’d got a thing for the name.
“Next question, how has your High School career gone thus far?”
Career, huh? That’s an interesting way to put it. I chose to quit my ‘career’ early on. School is, well, pretty useless. That’s how I see it at least. I mean, sure history and science is cool and all, if you like that sort of thing, but I am well aware that I am not going to be going to college, nor do I need a high school education to do the job I intend. Back home in Vancouver I went to high school. I even completed my freshman year with honors. The actual school work comes easy to me. Don’t assume that just because I don’t like school it makes me a jibberish spewing moron.
I do well enough with friends. Yes, I am a little dorky, and no, I don’t look like the picture perfect guy everyone wants to be, but I got along ok. If I’ve learned one thing that is useful from school, it’s that people like being abused. Not like, ‘abuse’, but being taunted. I made more friends being a sarcastic, ill tempered douche bag than a smiling peppy drone. So I figure, most people must be emotional masochists or something. That totally works for me, since sarcasm is like a second language for me.
After freshman year came the big move, so I was carted up and sent to some dumb ass boarding school in Maine. Tell me, do I look like the kind of guy who would fit in at a preppy all boys school filled with snooty, rich, entitled bastards? The answer better be ‘no’, because if I did fit in with that crowd I would have to kill myself. I lasted 2 months there, which is when I decided to end my high school ‘career’. It was going quite well, the real world suits me nicely. But alas, all good things must come to an end. And now I’m at this lovely place.
“What did you do when you weren't in school? Any hobbies or sports, anything like that?”
I don’t do sports. How dare you even imply that. If I picked up a foot ball or whatever, I would effectively ruin this scrawny, yet flabby physique of mine that I’ve taken years to perfect, by adding unwanted and unsightly muscle. Gross. Moral of the story is: I hate sports. Hate watching them, hearing about them, and most of all, hate playing them. So thanks for the whole mandatory sports team thing, I am so looking forward to that one… you jack asses.
My actual hobby, and I do take offense to calling this a hobby, since it’s pretty much my life, is music. I’ve always, from the first things I can remember, was obsessed with it. In fact, one of the few things I have in common with anyone in my family is music. I’ve been singing since I could talk, I write and compose my own songs, and play the guitar, piano, bass, and on occasion, fiddle (don’t ask why, my dad just really likes fiddle music…). I’ve been in numerous bands since I was 13, none of them have been all that great, but one day I’ll pull together the best group of musicians I can, and we’re going to take off. The only goal I have in life is to be able to make a living off my music. I don’t care if I’m living under a bridge until that happens, that just means I’ll have more material to work with for songs..
“Family and friends are pretty important. Tell me about them. How are your relationships with them?”
Ah yes, the dreaded ‘tell me about your family’ question. Well, my family is pretty cut and dry. I’ve got a father, who, a little over 17 years ago, impregnated my mother. 9 months later, I popped out. Apparently I was just so darn adorable, they needed to have another one, because a year later, my little sister Olive was born. My relationship with them is alright. Like I said, I really don’t have much in common with any of them. My mom is kind, but totally clueless about everything that doesn’t involve shopping, gin, or Olive. Olive is an bitch who thinks the sun shines from her ass, and that I am an embarrassment. My father is distant, always working, stern and in general, a dick. Long story short, nothing I’ve ever done has lived up to any of their expectations of me. I mean, sure, I love them, they are my family. But that doesn’t mean I have to like them.
Now on to the friends. I like my friends, hence, they are my friends. I had a pretty healthy sized circle back in Vancouver, and I miss those guys. There was a core group of 5 of us that were pretty tight, we all grew up together, and therefore, as you can logically deduce, we were close. Leaving them sucked, but I wasn’t given any choice in the matter. I still keep in contact, last year that wasn’t so easy, but I did. And I expect I will continue to try to do so. If I ever find my way back to the coast, I’m sure we’ll be buds again. My parents hate my closest friends, and I suppose I can’t blame them. We got into some trouble. I don’t want to go into details, it was a period of my life I am not so proud of. But basically, when we were 14, we started getting into drugs. It happens, we were young, had no parental supervision, considered ourselves rebels and had way too much disposable income. My drug of choice was heroin. The summer before I was starting high school was spent in rehab after my parents caught wind. So yeah, I guess that makes me feel bad ass, I had already gotten, and then proceeded to beat, an addiction by 15. Point of that little story is, while I went to rehab and got off the H, my friends didn’t, not right then and there at least. And I know a couple of them are still using, either way, my parents blamed them. They were bad influences and I let them lead me astray.
I didn’t bother with friends in Maine. I knew from the second I walked into that school that I wasn’t going to be staying long. So why bother becoming attached to anyone? I’m sure I seemed like quite the recluse. When I broke free of that place, I ended up in NYC, and I managed to make the best friends I think I ever will. We were all in the same situation, the people I gravitated too. And they got me. I formed a band, though I was missing the instruments that were left behind at my parents, I actually got some paid gigs, and I fell in love for the first time. Then I get arrested for something totally ridiculous, and my good ol dad decides to grease some palms, thinking this is the best place for me. I’m sure by the time I graduate here, Damien, Curtis and Steve will have moved onto other bands, and Jeanie will be with some douche. So that totally bites. Great. Now I’m depressed. You happy now?
“Thank you for sharing that with me. So those are your family and friends, what about yourself? Describe yourself to me.”
Uh, well this seems pointless, you’re looking at me right now, but I suppose you want to see if I have a deluded messed up perception of myself. So I’m tall-ish. 5’9. Not exactly a giant, but I’m not a dwarf either. I’ve got naturally black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. I’ve tried to tan, believe me, it just doesn’t happen. My skin is either white or red, nothing else ( I like to think that’s my Canadian Patriotism coming out) I usually wear it shaggy, with a fringe that I dye blue. I guess it’s a typical ‘emo’ cut, but I don’t really think I count as an emo, so I just call it a typical Christian cut. I know I’m not traditionally attractive, but being the front man in a band has a way of making even the ugliest guy look hot, so that’s working out for me. I’ve got a few scars, unfortunately you can still faintly see the track marks on my arms from when I was shooting up. The rest are all small and inconsequential, the kind of things anyone would pick up over the years. I’ve got a tattoo on my arm, it’s really simple, just lines… I got the first one (going down my forearm) when I got out of rehab, and plan on adding a line intersecting it for every year I’m clean.
Mentally I think I’m pretty stable, I have no more angst than your average teen. I went through a period (when I was on heroin mind you, so I hardly think it should count) where I developed a bit of an eating disorder. I was pretty convinced that I needed to be paler and skinnier to make an effective front man. Not really sure why. I mean back then, it seemed so obvious, now I can’t come up with a single reason I thought that. Now, I’m in perfect mental health. I mean sure I’m a little whacky sometimes, but come on, who isn’t?
“Other then the reason your here, at Blackwood Academy, have you had any other issues with law enforcement?”
Yeah, a few. I guess the obvious was when I was using. My parents found out because I was caught in the middle of a transaction with my dealer, and my dad had to bail me out. That was the worst, though also the best, since it helped me get clean. Everything was pretty small. I was busted for truancy and underage drinking, I’d gotten into a couple of fights that were broken up by cops, trespassing, vandalism, nothing that really ever got me into huge trouble, just multiple slaps on the wrist..
“What is the worst thing you’ve done? Why did you feel the need to do that?”
Worst thing I’ve done, huh? I don’t know. I have to think about that one for a minute. I really haven’t done horrible things. Just because I’m a bit of disappointment to my parents and a bit of a rabble rouser, doesn’t make me some dick head who does shitty things all the time. I guess worst thing I’ve done was screw over my little sister. She was pissing me off, I believe I’ve mentioned she’s a bitch, right? So no surprise there. But it was really driving me nuts. She was in grade 8, and started ‘dating’ this guy in my grade 9 class. She thought it made he so freaking cool. So, she was bugging me, I decided to tell the guy she was a bit of a slut and had herpes, so he should get away as fast as he could. He broke up with her, she cried for like a week, I felt like a dick. There you go, worst thing I’ve done. .
"What the one things you're most proud of?"
That’s an easy one. Getting clean. I didn’t want to at first, when my parents sent me to rehab, I was pissed as hell. But it was the best thing that could have happened to me. And it was hard, hell, it still is sometimes, but I am proud of myself for doing it, and not relapsing.
"Other then your trouble with law enforcement, do you have any vices or addictions?"
Yeah, I guess you could call smoking a vice. I was going through 2 packs a day in NYC. Not good for my poor lungs, but god was it awesome. I can’t help it, I love smoking. The best part of any day is the first smoke. I suppose I’ll have to quit now that I’m here… or find someone who can supply me. Lame. Probably cost me a small fortune. Other than that, I drink. But not like an alcoholic, like most people, I’m a binge drinker. So when a party rolls around, I get my groove on. And can foul language be considered a vice? I’m trying really hard here, but I usually swear like a F*cking trucker.
“If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?”
I’d rather not be here. I guess my family is my family, and I wouldn’t change them, even if they piss me off. So really, the only shitty thing I would love to not have to deal with is this crap hole. Sorry, I know it’s your school and all, but I would literally rather be anywhere else in the world.
“What criminal act got you sent here and who recommended it?”
Really, it wasn’t the criminal act so much as my dad that got me sent here. I am pretty sure if he wasn’t such an a-hole, it would have been another slap on the wrist. When I was arrested, I was living alone in NYC, and some friends and I were squatting in a condemned apartment block. Hello, free rent, why would you pay when you squat for free? Anyways, we’d been there a couple weeks, and I’ll admit, we trashed the place a bit. We happened to be caught by the douchiest cop alive with the biggest stick up his ass, so he wasn’t about to just let us go with a warning. Noooo, that would be too easy. Instead, he hauled all our asses in, managed to contact our parents (which severely pissed me off, I’d been able to avoid mine for almost 6 months)And charged us with trespassing, destruction of public property and disturbing the peace. Mother F*cker. Anyways, nothing would have come of the charges, we’d all get a slap on the wrist, some community service, and one way ticket back to out ‘rents. But since my dad is such a charmer, he thought A) I needed to be taught a lesson, and B) I would escape just as easily as I did last time from whatever school he put me into. So he talked into a few people’s ears, passed off some cash to the DA, and next thing you know, I get to call Blackwood’s my home. Lucky me.
“Do think that you deserve to be here?”
God no. Like I said, this was hardly the first time I’d gotten in trouble, but really, all that should have happened was a reprimand. Now I’m stuck in this soulless hell hole for the foreseeable future.
"Tell me about your life before Blackwood Academy contacted you, what led up to your stay here."
Right, so we already covered the impregnation and birthing, so moving along. My life as a child was pretty boring. I mean, we definitely lived above average, but it was nothing special. I was born and grew up in Vancouver, British Columbia, in the wonderful country of Canada. (You should have heard of it, it’s bigger and is on top of you… hell, if this were prison, you all would be our bitch). My dad was an A/R rep for 604 records. He signed and managed some pretty big bands, and as such, we had a lot of zee money. ( And before you even think it, I am not going to use that douche bag’s connections to get a record deal, so shut your filthy mouth) I couldn’t care less about how much we had. Though, I did appreciate the plethora of guitars I was able to by, and the funding of both my drug habit and eventual rehabilitation. Point is, we were what most people would consider rich.
I got into trouble on and off over the years. It drove my parents nuts, they always hated how very little I seemed to care about appearance or school. But like I said, from a young age I knew I wasn’t destined to be a scholar. Music was it for me, so everything else took a back seat. I was kinda the black sheep around home. And that suited me just fine. I already covered the drug thing, so I’m not really going to delve into that rats nest again. I enrolled in high school, did my freshman year, though I hated it, but at least had some good friends. Then my dad got head hunted. Sony BMG wanted him, apparently he’s kinda a big deal with the music suits. So he got a huge bonus, and we all got to move to LA. Lucky us. Have I mentioned how pale I am? LA is so not my thing. Would have been the lesser of two evils though, since my dad had no intention of setting me free in LA. Instead, he enrolled me at some snooty as shit east coast bording school. Again, I believe I may have mentioned how much I hated the place. I lasted a couple months before I packed up what I could, emptied what I could from my saving’s account, and ‘eff’d off. I ended up in NYC. A lot of people would say this was a shitty time in my life. I was a high school drop out, a run away, and homeless. I however, loved it. I’ve never had as much fun, or felt like I belonged as much as I did there. Mostly, I lived by squatting in old buildings, living meagerly off my savings that I kept squirreled away in my guitar case, whatever I could scrounge by busking, and even getting a few paid gigs with my band. It was amazing. Then stupid officer dick wad arrested me. My dad was livid, turns out instead of being worried about me for the six months I’d been living on the streets, he’s just been seething and stewing in his rage. He pulls a few strings, and BAM! Here I am, with little to no chance of escape until I graduate. Thank god I’ve got my guitar collection back, that is really the only positive here.
Last Name, First Name, Middle Initial: Weiss, Christian, N
Race: Caucasian
DOB and Age: May 12, 17 year old
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: age and how long you been here. 16 – about 6 months- He started mid way through his Sophomore year
Grade:Junior
Health issues: Asthma, chronic back pain…etc Asthma, and is prone to getting pink eye, tasty.
Other: any other notes about the character Nope
Race: Caucasian
DOB and Age: May 12, 17 year old
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: age and how long you been here. 16 – about 6 months- He started mid way through his Sophomore year
Grade:Junior
Health issues: Asthma, chronic back pain…etc Asthma, and is prone to getting pink eye, tasty.
Other: any other notes about the character Nope
Your name: What you want to be called. Sylvie
How you found us: the voice in my head
Code word in the Rules: ADMIN EDIT
Play by: Josh Ramsay
This Application was created by JEZ! A.K.A Two.Last Words. Do not steal or remove credit. Or I will sick my doggy Drako on you. He enjoys biting the butts of others so BEWARE!