Post by CALLUM RICE on Mar 16, 2009 20:36:07 GMT -5
CALLUM L RICE
HELLO THERE ANDY, IT IS A PLEASURE MEETING YOU! IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, HOW OLD ARE YOU? SEVENTEEN OLD? YOU SURE ARE A YOUNG THING AREN'T YOU? BY THE WAY, I HEARD YOU'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR ETERNITY. VERY IMPRESSIVE. ALSO, HOW DID YOU SAY YOU FOUND US? ADMIN, YO. LOVELY! PLUS, YOU ARE A/AN LITERATE/ADVANCED ROLEPLAYER? FANTASTIC! YOU WILL DEFINETLY BE HEARING FROM US VERY SOON! IS THERE ANYWAY WE CAN CONTACT YOU? PM OR AIM, YO? ALRIGHT! MAKE SURE TO CHECK YOUR MESSAGES!
FROM A BALANCE BEAM!
[/FONT][/CENTER]You know those beach boys the girls typically get all dolled up for whenever their day includes shoreline and sun? Those boys always wearing next to nothing—in the form of swim trunks, of course. The ones sporting the typical beach scene accessories, such as a hemp bracelet or shell necklace. Callum, with a few exceptions to be discussed at a later time…is basically one of those boys. Though, in place of the long blonde locks the boy tends to sprout dark brown tresses, typically no longer than the bottom of his earlobes. And though his skin is truly a deep tan color, it is not quite as flawless as those volleyball-playin’ dude’s. In fact, many a scar can be found in various places on the man’s skin. Random cuts. Weird cuts. But for all you know, they are just plain cuts. However, they are placed in the most inconvenient of places, causing him to look just like a teenage ruffian even in a suit and tie.
Though Callum perceives himself in somewhat of a higher light—not as though he is something special—he doesn’t tend to hold himself high. He doesn’t stand exceptionally tall, or angle his chin upward in order to appear standoffish. There is a slight slouch to his shoulders, one made to easily convey his easy-going personality. He’s never stiff, or rigid. In fact, the man tends to have a loose look about him, like he simply rolls with the punches. Like he could and would take anything with ease. There is something of an air of confidence in his slow gait; his wide steps. But not enough to push anyone away. Never enough to push anyone away. Simply everything about him is almost inviting. The rich glow of his skin, the bright white smile tugging at his lips, the way he holds himself, the curious light in his eyes. Almost as if he’s one big teddy bear…you’re only impulse is to spread ‘em wide and give the guy a bear hug.
When it comes to apparel…it could be said that Rice doesn’t necessarily care. Clothing is clothing, only something to cover you up, keep you warm and make damn sure the law doesn’t come running after you with a pink slip. Not at all saying he’s a nudist. He just…really doesn’t care about fashion. The boy tends to appear as though he isn’t at all wealthy, or financially endowed—no matter how false that may be. A simple pair of ratty old jeans, with or without holes, a t-shirt and the typical zip-up hoodie and sneakers and this gent is good to go. A typical sight, however, would be the trademark green beanie, green jacket, and black chucks. Variation? Forget about it. The more it stays the same the less he has to worry about it.
LOVER I DON'T HAVE TO LOVE!
[/FONT][/CENTER]Callum seems to be one of the less-interesting contrasting personalities of all time. You ask me why? Well, I’ll tell you. In short: He’s strong-willed, but he’s patient. He’s fun-loving, but he’s calm. He’s smart, but not arrogant. He’s street-wise, but oh-so-polite. There are so many things, in fact, he shouldn’t be. And yet…he is.
In essence, his heart and soul, lives by his fathers famous last words:
“It’ll be all right. Nothing bad’ll happen unless you let it. You decide.”
So, Callum took those words, and he ran with them. He doesn’t tend to let much get him down. He loves to have fun, do new things, have new experiences. He’s the kind of guy who’ll agree to go parasailing with you tomorrow morning if you call him at two a.m. And then he’ll invite you out for sushi later. He’s the kind of guy who’ll get a tattoo, just because he feels like it. He’s the kind of guy who does what he wants, when he want to. Not a comment will come from his mouth unless he wants to say it, or really really means it. You ask him how you look? You better be damn positive that you don’t look like shit. Because he’ll tell it to you straight, but with a smile and a good laugh. That’s the thing…his character may be brutal and straight-foreword, but he’s never one to ruin your day, or break your heart in the process. He’s not a bully, just a good friend.
Another positive aspect to his straight-foreword…ness, is his uncanny ability to make friends on the fly. You could bump into each other on the street and have plans to hit the beach that following Monday. He isn’t at all secretive, or kept to himself. But honest to God if he doesn’t want to talk to you, he won’t. Callum’s been on the streets long enough to know the difference between friend and foe. In fact, that might just be one of his finer qualities, he’s a fantastic judge of people. And on a random note…despite his free-spirited personality and sense of personal control, Callum is easy to fall in love. Though, there has only really been one girl in his life he considers himself truly in love with. He’s the kind of guy who wants to settle down. He might not mind a kid or two…but the important part is, he isn’t afraid of commitment. Of any kind.
The flipside of his personality, however, can be dangerous. And quite messy to deal with…
When things don’t quite go how he planned, or expected them to go, he lashes out. Along with his calm demeanor and insatiable soft-spot, Callum has a temper that could kill. Literally. This is perhaps the reasoning behind the lacking success in his relationship with Gloria. So many things didn’t go right…so he argued with her far too often. And even more often was his sense of regret seeing as how many of the arguments ended in him tossing—or moving rather—something across the room, hardly ever hitting her save for perhaps once or twice. He always seemed to cool down like he’d been doused with water after that. Unfortunately, the boy seems to have an anger flame that doesn’t want to go out and it’s fuel seems to be dissatisfaction.
DON'T KNOW WHEN
BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
[/FONT][/CENTER]BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
“I consider myself a man of many experiences.
Many experiences indeed.
I was born some time twenty-four years ago in a nice little town by the name of Key West, Florida. I’m not gonna play the ‘when a guy a girl get together and make babies a baby is born’ game because, honestly, I have no idea who my mother is. And furthermore, my Dad didn’t talk about her. Ever. So, in short, I didn’t have a mother figure growing up. I had my dad, Aaron Rice. And it was pretty much just me and him for as long as I can remember. We lived in this ratty old apartment, leaking ceiling, moldy bathtub and all. Complete with the ever present cigarette smoke smell. We ate, all the time in fact. And whenever I needed clothes we simply went somewhere and bought them. I never really understood how we could afford it all, and yet still live in the shit-hole we called home. But, I got used to it.
I feel like my entire childhood was like one big training session. Moving was a part of my daily life from the age of thirteen. My dad thought I was moving along at a fairly quick rate, developing just like he had. As I got old her took me out more and more with him on his little adventures, teaches me what exactly to do in certain situations. I learned quickly about bleeders—if someone looks like they have a big mouth: plug your ears and run fast—pushers—if they look like they know something you don’t: don’t look ‘em in the eye and…run fast—shadows—make friends—shifters—never make a deal with one—sniff—don’t let them touch your stuff—stitcher—don’t make fun after they’ve healed you—watchers—there ain’t nothing you can do—wipers—don’t let them touch you—and most importantly, the division. If someone so much as looked at you funny, run fast. In fact, that seemed to become a big part of my childhood, running.
But apart from all the moving and running and other forms of practice, dubbed ‘training’ by my Dad, he seemed to always find time to take me out. I learned to surf, play sports, get a boat going. And yes, all this whilst in school. I may not have gotten the best grades, but I certainly didn’t get picked on. No one wanted to mess with the kid who beat up the biggest kid in school. The funny thing was…that was all an accident. It was actually the year I turned thirteen. His name was Paxton. And I hated him. So I just ignored him. I wasn’t the bullying or pestering type, unlike him. One day I was eating in the lunchroom, arranging my food on my tray by colors—oh yeah, I have a thing with food—and all of the sudden it appears as though my tray isn’t in front of me anymore. Next thing I know it’s on my back. I could feel the milk in my hair, and the warm mash potatoes soaking through my shirt. After that… I kinda blanked out. But the only thing I remember is what I did first. I turned around and wanted so damn bad for him to be on the other side of the cafeteria…in the trashcan. This was when my ‘powers’ made their guest appearance. He didn’t go far but I did see him fly back a couple of feet and fall to the ground. I hadn’t moved. And no one else was watching. Moral of the story? After that…no one picked on me.
It was three years later that I had my first girlfriend. Yep, junior year of high school. She was gorgeous. Blonde and petite. She seemed to have some brains about her. We’d dated for a long time, and one night, driving home from the movies, we got into some sort of argument. She wanted to see my place, meet my dad. And for obvious reasons I couldn’t let her. In my anger it seemed as though I’d forced her through the window of my car. She died. I never forgave myself. My dad brushed it off as if it were no big thing. That she was a simple human and it was bound to happen one time or another. He had a bit of a superiority complex. I messed up the front of the car a little and moved her, and the car, in front of a tree. I got some points on my license…but I considered that getting off easy for manslaughter. After that I didn’t date another girl throughout high school.
The year I turned nineteen I woke in my bed to some noise in the kitchen. At first my adolescent mind was screaming for me to lay back down, go to sleep, but I didn’t. I stumbled into the kitchen to see my dad packing up a duffel bag. I asked him what was going on and he said he had…to go. I couldn’t believe it. My dad was going? My…dad? I couldn’t even begin to fathom living on my own. I asked him why and he walked over to me, calmly, placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes before saying, “It’ll be all right. Nothing bad’ll happen unless you let it. You decide.” That was it. Nineteen years and the only explanation he could give me was that. Without much more thought he left. A few hours later I found a box on my nightstand with a key beside it. Inside…what I found was shocking: stacks of money, a couple more keys, and a few notes as to what they unlocked. Apparently my Dad had a bank account or two with billions of dollars stashed away. That’s right. Billions.
After that I moved.
I stayed in Key West but picked a better apartment. Hell, I had the money. But I still stayed low-key. My dad had left a note saying to do so. I didn’t go to college…I didn’t need to. So what did I do in my spare time? Practiced. I practiced my skill. I went to the gym. I experienced new things. I treated myself to new things every once in a while.
But it wasn’t until I turned twenty-one that my life turned around.
Her name was Gloria. Gloria Mendez. The most beautiful creature that happened to live on planet earth. Literally. And I wasn’t shy about telling her those words exactly. I think she liked it…at least, she probably did. She agreed to go out with me. The beginning…was fantastic, really. She was perfect. In all ways. In fact, I really don’t think anything happened and made her…not perfect. I think something is wrong with me…
But that’s beside the point.
We started fighting. More so than talking. And it was apparent that her folks didn’t like me. Hell, if I were them, with that big house and the nice stuff, I wouldn’t like me either. They told her they didn’t like her seeing me. But she kept at it. Despite our tendencies to quarrel more than enjoy each other. Every time something seemed to go wrong I just went off on her…and occasionally our fights would get too intense. I’d nearly always end up sending something her way. Though the objects rarely hit her. But that was normally when I cooled off. Always pleading with her to forgive me. That was probably the only glue holding us together.
But soon she hit me with the news that she wanted to go into the military. Her parents…just wanted her away from me. It seemed I was the only one truly against it. And she didn’t really give me much say…in other words she left. Without so much as a goodbye. I wrote her consistently nearly every other day she was there. Notes about how upset I was with her. Notes about how sorry I was. Notes about how much I missed her. I really did miss her. I…do miss her. A few years later and the news came home that she was killed in battle. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was depressed, angry, distraught. Gloria. Dead. I couldn’t believe it. I picked up drinking for some time—A habit that, thankfully, I have dropped—but eventually got over it. Well…I didn’t really get over it. More like accepted it. I had to. She was gone. Forever.
Not too soon after I’d come to terms with the entire situation in walks Nat. We literally bumped into each other. She was smart, funny, adorable. Despite her slight uptightness…she wasn’t too hard to adore. Not to mention she taught children. For some reason I was drawn to her. We’ve been dating for a years now. And I’m kinda getting the vibe that she wants to be something more. But something’s holding me back…Maybe it’s this Gopi. At least…that’s what she calls herself. I know. I just know, that girl I met at the club that night is my Gloria. She has to be.
Whether she wants me dead or not.”
I BELIEVE IN SYMMETRY!
[/FONT][/CENTER]HEYO! THIS IS CALLUM LEE RICE BUT EVERYONE CALLS ME CAL, RICE, RICEBOWL, CALLEE. I'M FROM VENICE BEACH, CALIFORNIA AND AM TWENTY-FOUR. PSSHT! I'M ALSO PART OF THE MOVERS AND I AM DAMN PROUD OF IT, BABEH! MESS WITH THEM AND I MESS WITH CHU! BUT DON'T WORRY, I'M STILL TAKEN, SO ALL YOU LADIES CAN/CAN'T HAVE A PIECE OF THE MAGNIFICENT ME! PEOPLE EVEN SAY I LOOK LIKE JOSH HARTNETT SO OBVIOUSLY, YOU'LL BE HAVING SOME FUN! MAKE SURE YOU KEEP IN TOUCH, YO! BECAUSE NOONE CAN HANDLE THIS AWESOME DUDE!
AT THE BOTTOM OF EVERYTHING!
[/FONT][/CENTER][/SUB]THIS APPLICATION TEMPLATE WAS CREATED BY STEPH ACE OF VOGUE! STEAL WITHOUT KEEPING THE CREDITS AND SHE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN, RIP YOU OPENED, AND FEED YOU TO NASH C: SO BE KEWL AND KEEP THE CRED! CREDIT TO LYRICS GOES TO BRIGHT EYES-ONE OF THE MOST INSPIRATIONAL BANDS ON THE PLANET EARTH-SCRATCH THAT-UNIVERSE!
