ian nathaniel greene

[kurt]

`ian nathaniel greene !!!


impulsive. cynical. ambitious.

Name: Ian Nathaniel Greene.
Nickname(s): Ian will do.
Major: music, double majoring in journalism.
Age: twenty.
Grade: junior.
Birthdate: march eleventh.
Orientation: straight, my friends.
Location: los angeles, California.

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`Appearance ,,

Ian Greene has never quite fit the stereotypical look of most of his peers, nor has he attempted to make himself look different in any way; but from his high cheekbones to his long limbs, he did look different. He was born to parents which both possessed dark hair – a dominant trait that he had acquired from them. When he had been younger, he was told to keep his hair cut short and tidy- and as he aged he grew out the pin straight locks in a small attempt at irritated the authority figures in his life. It had been a feeble attempt, because soon enough his hair was shaved back down again. Currently, the length of Ian’s hair varies considerably. Aside from his dark hair, the male wore a pair of hazel, almond-shaped eyes; a colour that often appeared to be different than what it was. Though he had never attempted to look different than most, he had a lengthy build. Long, rather thin legs kept his body supported—and his arms weren’t too terribly undeveloped. It had always been a joke among friends that he was built monkey-like, but he wasn’t completely out of shape.

In time, he did, however, begin to like things that weren’t too generic. Stamped a few pieces of metal through some facial features- and there you had it. The boy had three piercings, all centered around his mouth. The ever so cliché “snake bites” were worn on occasion, while he was never seen without his “spider bite.” Not to mention the fact he’d recently stretched his ears out a tad to fit two rather large metal circles. Gauges, actually. Eventually, he’d grow out of the phase and let everything shrink back to normality. But for now, he’s comfortable with his magnetic field. Perhaps it’s just in his comfort zone to be able to twirl the metal sticks around when nervous? Putting his physical attributes aside, we’ll go over his dress style. He was rather laid back when it came to clothing, never working too hard to appear as if he spent hours in front of the mirror. Plain button-up shirts and jeans had always been enough for him; so why stop now?

Best Feature:
“What’s my best feature? Hm. Honestly, that’s sort of hard for me to say. Not because I’m horribly conceited, or because I have a very low self esteem unlike the general population- but because I don’t normally stop and pondering what I like most about myself. I’m comfortable with almost every feature of my appearance, but I don’t find anything to be too immaculate. I actually have taken a liking to my height. I like the feeling of towering over people, though it does make it difficult for me to find a decent pair of jeans—seeing as the general population is sort of short. I blame junk food.”

Worst Feature:
“Ooh. My worst feature, now, this one will be a little easier. I think my cheekbones are a little too pronounced for being a guy and all, and I do believe my nose could do with being a little smaller. I suppose my face would be disproportional if either were different, though, so I have never taken much mind to the two things at all. I’m not one to dwell on the physical things, you know? Why worry about something you can’t change? Besides, it’s not like I believe in plastic surgery or even notice the flaws enough.” [/size]

`Personality ,,


impuslve, it’s something Ian has always been from a very young age. Decision making came easily, and often with reckless and chaotic results. He isn’t idiotic or anything of the sort, but he has never been one to wait on something forever before going on to do it. That is where writing and music comes into play. Whenever the mood came about, ideas and tunes came out of that sucker like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps that had been why he had chosen to major in the subjects, but the world may never know. I don’t think Ian even has a clue himself. His quick choices and laid-back attitude have altered all aspects of his life. Easy come easy go, right? Now now, realize that he does think about things- it’s just the idea and urge comes too quickly for some to realize. For example, Ian could be taking the bus to somewhere, and end up jumping off in a completely different area upon a new whim.

cynical, like his father, Ian uses sarcasm to express how low he finds the world to be at this point and time. He isn’t a complete pessimist, but he doesn’t exactly find the glass to be half full anymore. He’s thick with rather blunt humor- and if it offends you it really wasn’t meant to. He’s just naturally a cynic, picking out the flaws in things whether or not he really finds them to be too significant. In some ways, this also fuels his fire when it comes to journalism and music; because who else could write a million songs on the trials or life or reports on the famine in Darfur? It’d be unheard of for someone constantly writing and composing things up of things around him to be an optimist in all aspects.

ambitious, ready to break out from the life so many others have led. Ian does not want to die without people remembering his name. He couldn’t bare the thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t all that important to the world. He had things to dish out, and by God did he plan on letting everyone know. He worked for everything he has ever earned, and prides himself in it. Ian wasn’t just some rich boy who got to go to a good school because his daddy pulled strings, or because his mother married into the dean’s family. That wasn’t the way he was raised, and wasn’t the way he was planning on becoming either. It was just too simple to use things, and he had always liked a challenge. He set goals high and had every intention of following each and every one of them up.

private. In Ian’s eyes, that was how everything should stay. If you were having trouble with something, you kept your mouth shut. If you needed someone to talk to, you wrote it down on paper. Your business was in your head, and no where else. He had never been one to confide in people about all the little skeletons in the closet, or the dust bunnies under the rug. If he had something to take up with the world, it was written about or picked out through a vocal chord or a violin. That was fact. People come and go, and if you depend on those that are there for the moment- when they go you’re going to be left with nothing but a secret told. All in all, Ian rarely ever opens up to people about anything in general. Ask him where he’s from, what his name is, and what his major is- but he draws the line at that.

Likes:

• the violin ; it’s soothing.
  
• girls ; they’re so fragile, and opposite.
  
• writing ; it’s expression without confiding.
  
• running ; it’s freeing.
  
• sleeping ; it makes everything possible.
  
• goals ; a way to bide time well.
  
• school ; it makes you feel accomplished.
  
• books ; it expands.
  
• alcohol ; it loosens bodies up.
  
• cigarettes ; substitutes obesity.
  
• photographs ; an easy way to remember.
  
• nature ; it’s free.
  
• good friends ; they help you get by.
  
• children ; they’re open.
  
• abstract everything ; open to interpretation
  
• firsts ; it’s a beginning.
  

Dislikes:

• cigarettes ; because he can’t stop.
  
• ignorance ; it isn’t bliss.
  
• sluts ; it’s pointless & degrading.
  
• excuses ; a sob story isn’t a reason.
  
• grades ; music isn’t a grade.
  
• failing ; makes a goal pointless.
  
• lasts ; because it ends something.
  
• questioning religion ; what do you believe in?
  
• becoming attached ; we all walk away.
  
• disease ; it’s obvious as to why.
  
• growing older ; wrinkles and dying.
  
• vulgarity ; it’s degrading
  
• boundaries ; he’s too ambitious for that.
  

Positive Traits:

• He’s open. Ian is open to anything and everything as long as it keeps morale intact. (Well, to an extent. Sometimes he’s not very humane, too.) So, in that way he never closes himself off to people without getting to know them properly. He doesn’t believe people should be shunned because of reputations or past acts, or maybe even present acts. Interact with people until they give you a reason not to, right? Even after they give you one reason… doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?
  
  
• considerate, like his mother had been when he was young. Though Ian’s secrets weren’t going to be told any time soon, he had always been the one people went to when they were in need of someone’s shoulder to cry on-- or someone to hold their hand as they attempted to try out for a part in the school’s upcoming production. He doesn’t mess with people’s heartstrings, and it’s a well known trait. The male will go out of his way to make sure someone can avoid a day they’d rather not have. Oh, and if there’s this bag of candy he knows is your favorite in his possession- it’s going to be sent right over to you. Small it may be, but it’s the though that counts, right?
  
  
• Creative. Though it may get him into trouble at times, he is constantly coming up with new ways to do things he’s doing; or with new music and writing styles. He will never be caught trying to follow the lead of someone else, and is always thinking for himself. He refuses to conform to fit the mold of the industry as it is today, and his personality is his. Period. Whether it has to do with college classes or not, he keeps things fresh and new.

Negative Traits:

• Easily addicted. Ian isn’t interested in the drug scene or anything of the sort, but most people have tried things out at one point and time. For Ian, it’s really easily to become addicted to any sort of substance. Note, he’s been smoking since he turned fourteen. Add that shxt up. He doesn’t do drugs or drink /too/ often- because if he does so it’s plausible he won’t ever be able to stop. Perhaps that’s a trait he inherited from his mom—one he refuses to let put him in his grave like his mother had. He has other things to do with himself.
  
  
• Pushes people out. I noted earlier that Ian really is a private person, and doesn’t let many people stick their noses into his life. That trait goes hand in hand with himself tending to push people out before they become too close to him. Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t anti-social, nor a sociopath; he just tends to give people the wrong sort of vibe once he gets the feeling that they’re really getting a bit too curious about him or vice versa. If he feels he’s getting to attached to someone, he might just close them out completely.
  
  
• work-obsessed. The kid has a lot of fun, but when it comes down to it, making a career is really all that’s terribly important to him. He would do anything to keep a steady pay roll, and to get his name out there—but would he do anything to protect his family? No. He uses work to make up for the fact he never took the time to get into a relationship, and to try to fall in love. There’s been plenty of one night stands and meaningless kisses; but he’s just never given anyone the time of day. But.. he would if someone ever really asked him to.

Greatest Ambition:

• Ian wants to become something bigger than where he came from, and that’s that. He wants people that he doesn’t even know to know his name, and to be able to relate to him through whatever way they can. Through writing or journalism, actually. He just wants there to be a connection with him and the rest of reality. He just wants success, and to show people that maybe they’re really not all alone.

Greatest Fear:[/size]

• Failing. If there’s anything he fears at all, it would be that he does nothing with his life. If he couldn’t prove to his parents that he could grow from what they gave him—or if he couldn’t prove to himself that he could; he’d have done nothing with his life. He wasn’t afraid of dying alone, or going to Hell, or never making enough money; he was simply afraid of not being able to show up his parents. In a way, it was sort of a humble thing; but Ian was a humble thing himself.

`History ,,

Ian was born to a wealthy family, his mother an actress and his father an entrepreneur of some company whose name he couldn’t attempt to pronounce. He was raised to be refined, clean-cut, and to speak with utmost politeness. His mother Renee had married into her father’s family once she became pregnant at the age of eighteen- not too young, but not old enough to know what she was doing. At the time, his father was already twenty four and CEO of a company that worked abroad. Ian had questioned her reasons she had about marrying his father, like most had, because she was so young. He didn’t like to think she had married him for his money and well-known name; but he didn’t like thinking about her marrying him simply because they had a love child either. Ian’s father Kenneth was a well respected man, and did more than make a living for his family. There was no doubt that he loved Renee, and Ian supposed that was what had kept them together so long.

His dad was always working, but Ian didn’t notice his absence too much. He was not one of the many children who ached over the fact their daddy wasn’t home. No. He loved his dad, but he didn’t mind. He knew there was reasoning behind it all. His mother was the same. She took auditions whenever she could, and often was modeling for the company her dad was in charge of. She wasn’t a cruel woman, but Ian liked her being gone a significant amount of time. He stayed with his grandmother who also lived in the Greene home, and often viewed her as more of a parent than he real ones. She was an eccentric woman, having moved from Russia to the states when she was a teenager. She exposed him to culture, and things she thought to be important or dear to her. She taught him to be independent and to find happiness in simplicity. She taught him to be him. All in all, she was his best friend. (Even at the age of sixty.) Along with that, she made sure he was well educated from the start, and was often put up for awards at the schools he attended through the various moves his father’s jobs required. He didn’t need much from other people when it came to means of entertainment. He started taking violin lessons at age six, and did the rest of his youth. As well as being exposed to his mother’s colleagues, he was often introduced to journalists who would ask about his lifestyle. It seemed having parents like his wasn’t such a regular thing, and it required people asking him questions about it.

For years, tension between his parents steadily grew. Neither of them really saw each other, and when they did they were too tired or irritated from their careers that they’d often take out their frustrations on each other. It didn’t help that everyone questioned their relationship to start with. It only took a few plates to broken against walls before they realized it would be Ian’s best interest if they divorced, and continued to leave him in his grandmother’s care. To Ian, this was a treat. Staying with his grandmother had been something he had always held dear, but after awhile he had become weary of never seeing his parents. He missed his mother, who refrained from calling—and he missed his father; who was too busy covering up for the divorce by showering him with more materialistic gifts. Soon, it became apparent that his mother hadn’t been gold digging when she’d married Kenneth. Ian soon discovered through listening in on a phone call his mother had become an alcoholic, and that she had not been working for months. No auditions, no nothing. Instead of being sympathetic, Ian was disgusted. Why had she let their relationship fall apart of it had meant so much to her?

He soon rid himself of his curious tactics, and didn’t listen in on anymore of his grandmother’s phone calls. He didn’t want to hear about his mother if it wasn’t about her doing the things that she was capable of. He grew up intent on not wasting his talents like his mother had, and ignored the social callings of growing up. There was no importance in having girlfriends, or friends for that matter- though he did go through quite a few throughout the years. He had just learned to never grow too attached to the way things are. Then, he was seventeen and in his senior year in high school. He was three months from graduation- and doing so in flying colours. He was going to be valedictorian, and was going to be going to a university specializing in the things he was particularly good at. He had seemingly escaped the traits his mother could have passed onto him, and was proud of it. Two days before graduation he was told by his grandmother his mother had died of consumption. He didn’t cry, not a tear. He didn’t call his father, either, and hasn’t since then. If the man wanted to talk, he would call himself, right? But don’t get me wrong, it was no skin off Ian’s nose. He would attend no funeral.

Best Memory:

When Ian turned sixteen his grandmother took him out to this swanky little club downtown. Then, it had been a big deal to get into a place like that. She had been quite the classy woman, elite in all aspects—and she had introduced him to many of her friends. Most of those people had been involved in things of significance, and he had been honored. They all had drinks, and ate and discussed things over dinner. He had been treated as an aristocrat himself; even with the metal in his face and the too long hair. He’d been included in the discussions and even asked to perform with his violin. Astonished, he had almost been too surprised to even conceive such a thing. Shaking and out of his comfort zone, he sang and let the violin bow slide carefully over the strings. Having composed the song himself, the moment had left him completely vulnerable to everyone present. He was overwhelmed. He had never performed in people of importance, nor shared his ideals with many people at all. When they had responded positively, he was thrilled. Even his grandmother had been pleased with what he had turned out, and had told him later on that he done much better than she had ever expected—and that his mother would envy what he had managed. His mother had been a singer herself, but had never wielded the talent enough to actually pursue it. The next day, Ian got a call from one of her grandmother’s friends who worked at a better university for the arts—asking if he would like to attend the school. Ian was happier than he had ever been in his entire life. Perhaps, he could have a chance to go places. His grandmother’s friend had told him he had too much potential to not try out, and that he had been quite impressed by him—giving him supported feedback on things for such a young age. Play his cards right, and he’d make his name known. It was more than he could have ever asked for, and he thanked the man profusely. Though his father was wealthy, his grandmother was not; and he otherwise would not have been able to attend such a good school. (Even /his/ grades hadn't been good enough.)

Worst Memory:
A few months before Ian graduated high school, his drunken mother had shown up on the doorstep of his grandmother’s house in the middle of the night. The old woman, too afraid to answer the door, had Ian do so. He was more healthy and more fit, so why not, right? It had not been expected in the slightest that it would be Renee, and Ian could not have been any more repulsed by the fact that it was. He had been sarcastic, rude, and everything imaginable to the woman. She had come simply to curse his grandmother for “stealing her baby boy”, and for not “supporting her relationship with Kenneth.” Ian responded to her by saying that she walked out on him /and/ his father, and that she was a disgrace to their family. Renee spit in Ian’s face, and announced that he would amount to nothing when he became of age to leave the house. Ian grit his teeth, and looked at his mother. His own mother had chosen to spit on his face, and to dare accuse him of the act she was guilty of. He kept his grandmother inside, stepped out, and closed the door behind his back to speak to her privately. He would only say one more sentence to her before he turned his back and closed the door. “No, Mother, I will never be as stupid as you are.” Afterward he had gone back to sleep, only to dream of the words he had just spoken to his own blood. He did not regret what he had said, though he did cry at the thought. His grandmother wouldn’t have approved of that. He had been raised to respect his family, but at that moment he had chosen not to. He wouldn’t forget that, but he had no problem forgetting Renee was related to him at all. Perhaps he was a little angry for them not paying attention to him, after all.
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`Writing Skill ,,


this is a bit small for me, but it's all i have atm.
It was quiet. It hadn't been this quiet in years, it
seemed. Rae hadn't heard a silence this silent in so
long, she couldn't even remember a moment when she'd
felt this way. She sat in the lot on a curb, legs splayed
out in front of her as she fiddled with the black switch
blade in her palm. A long sigh lolled out of her lips,
partially parting to let the air escape into the night sky
above her. She could see her breath in front of her- and an
inward shudder sent her fingers shaking. This night.. it was
suffocating her. Earlier, someone had been killed from the
Sons of Saints gang. It'd been a long time since someone
of importance had been killed; and she'd heard that
he'd been well-known.

The girl only stood at about five two, and surrounded by
the much taller males around her-- she looked as if she was
a lost child. The only thing that could tell you she was
apart of any of this nonsense was the fact the switch blade
in her palms was held with a knowledgeable authority; like
she knew what she was doing with the object. "Heath,
what are we going to do? He shot the bastard-- but the rest
of them are going to be after us." She spoke quietly,
deliberately choosing her words. She tilted her head up, to
look at everyone else who had remained standing. Her long,
waved hair didn't do much to help the cold- it only made
her look more unlike what she was. Just a girl in a gang,
fumbling with a switch blade and wondering who she'd
have to mark on with the object tonight. It was an unhappy
life, unless you were drunk and stoned--like most of the
people around were.

"Rae, I don't know, baby. It'll be okay,
though. I'm here, Vinny's here. Jake's here too,
but I don't really know if he counts; he's so
fucking out of it from doing it." Heath answered
solemnly, looking at the pale, demanding face on the curb.
Vinny was her brother, the one who'd shot the kid from
the Saints. She was worried about him, obviously. Doing what
he did.. you weren't going to go unnoticed for much
longer. Since Rae was a girl, and so small- she was easily
forgotten on most occasions; unless someone had noticed that
there was, indeed, a girl stabbing someone next to them. She
was lucky, but she had a feeling her brother wasn't
going to be so.

"Why did you let him get so fucking high tonight,
Heath? Really. What if they come for him?"
"Baby, I don't think they'll come for your
brother. They.. they probably want an equal trade,
y'know?"
"What was this even about? Drugs?"
"I don't know. Vin knows.. but he won't tell
me."

A loud curse slipped out of Rae's lips, and she sighed.
No one knew how to do anything correctly around here. She
bit her lower lip to refuse a scowl.


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`Behind The Character ,,

Name: Haley.
Age: Fourteen. Hush.
Role-playing experience: Four years.
How you found us: Neoepts. :3 hush again!
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[jesse]

Your application needs to start with your character name, not a symbol. Our boards are alphabetized.

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[kurt]

Oops, sorry. Drew a blank there.

[jesse]

a c c e p t e d

Since we have no way of putting you in two user groups, you'll be listed as a music major.

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