Post by dell on May 19, 2011 15:29:47 GMT -5
ZOEYISABELLEHART !
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RAINBOW SHIRTS RIBBED IN ACID LOVE
[/color]OUR LIVES ARE RIBBED IN PLASTIC LOVE, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU
SHE LOVED ME TOO, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU, SHE LOVED ME TOO
HERE I AM, HERE I AM, GONNA TAKE YOU[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
nicknames: zo, zoboomafoo, etc.
birthday: 28th of June, 1991.
gender: female.
grade: townie, works at Bottom of the Hart (family’s restaurant)
sexuality: straight.
played by: emily browning.[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
Instead of the average Hart, tall and lanky, Zoey’s body is small and compact, standing at only five feet and weighing in at less than one hundred pounds. She has a high metabolism given all the food she eats. Her body is all soft curves and petite. Although her face is often complimented and envied, her somewhat bony body has never been the desire of anyone. She doesn’t do much to accentuate the body that she does have; her wardrobe leaves much to be desired. No low-cut tops, short skirts, crazy heels; nothing that would draw the wrong kind of attention. She’s usually seen in jeans and a tee-shirt, maybe something nicer if she’s going somewhere important, but that’s rare in itself.
personality: If you had to sum up Zoey Hart in one word it would be ‘sweetheart.’ There’s really no other way to say it. Growing up around a restaurant that was always bustling with clients, Zoey has well developed people skills. She’s a naturally open person and loves talking and learning about people. She’s a sweet, happy girl who finds the good in everything, even if it isn’t there. Equality is something that she strongly believes in, and she will not tolerate people with a ‘higher than thou’ attitude. She treats everyone with the same amount of respect, whether they return it to her or not. She is, of course, rather talkative and friendly, and will ask about a million and a half questions when meeting someone knew or learning something in application. She’s very approachable, and has a welcoming aura around her that people just can’t help but feel drawn to.
She goes out of her way to help others and fix their problems before her own. She’s always been more logical and rational than most, and she looks at all sides of a problem or situation before deciding on a course of action. Above everything, Zoey wants to please people, and she will not leave with anything less than a smile. It’s one of her biggest faults; she can’t really say no to a favour. She’ll do anything for anyone who deserves it, and she would never hesitate to help a friend in need. During her school years, she had spent quite a few days in the principal’s office, in trouble for something that hadn’t been her idea, but that she’d been dragged into.
After her mother’s death, Zoey assumed quite a bit of responsibility, and though she’s always been stubborn in what she believes in, she’s become much more, well bossy to be frank. Everything is always organized and functions a certain way in her life; consistency is key. She likes to have a plan, and do things her way, not that she doesn’t trust other people, it just that she’d rather have things blamed on her than someone else if something happens to go wrong. She doesn’t give much leeway for change and or downtime; she’s always busy doing something. Because of the enormous amount of responsibility that’s been put on her, she rarely gets moments for herself so she can just relax and kick back like she used to. A while ago, she used to go out and party with friends all the time, but she’s calmed down and become more of a homebody when she does have free time, as rare as it is. She wants to go out, but she just doesn’t feel like she belongs there anymore.
One thing you should remember about Zoey is that she has a very big temper, as sweet and soft as she is. Most days it doesn’t take much to set her off. She’s not physical, and won’t even yell at people, but she’ll become more stern almost to the point where one step out of line could cost your neck. She tries her best to wrangle herself in, and keep her temper down, but most of the time her stress levels are high and she’s stretched as far as she can be, and it can’t be avoided. She wants to go back to when she was carefree and relaxed, but that part of her is slipping further and further away the more her father nears retirement.
likes: people, talking, cooking, eating, rain, playing in the dirt, being herself, art, reading, wandering around, talking to people, asking questions, good deeds, bustle, noise, music, people enjoying themselves, making people smile, quirky and odd things, helping out, being called quirky weird or odd, uniqueness, paterns, fun clothing, expressing herself, christmas, the restaurant, family, friends, sweets, honeydukes, laughing, animals, plants, bugs, having a good time, trying new things, climbing trees, jokes, sarcasm, plants, helping people out . . .
dislikes: rude people, put-downs, seeing people sad, jerks, extremely cold days, people who keep themselves closed off, studying, losing at things, the smell of burnt food, being kept inside for too long, being told she can't do things, stupid people, betrayal, lying, people who use others, being wrong, plain colours, bland people, poofy dresses and overly girly things, people who touch her sneakers, anyone who tries to start drama, drama, people who try to be the center of attention, problems she can't fix, not having sweets, feeling helpless, not knowing what to do, forgetting simple things. . .
strengths: kind, motherly, sweetheart, polite, friendly, talkative, problem fixer, goofy, fun-loving, helpful, tries to do the right thing, artsy, creative, softly happy, gentle, caring, compassionate . . .
weaknesses: trusting, naive, bossy, hot-tempered, klutzy, competitive, tends to embarrass herself a lot, doesn't know when to shut up, controlling, stubborn, rationalizes everything. . .
[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
father: craig levi hart, fifty-one, restaurant owner.
siblings: none.
significant other (s): none.
pets: jimi & hendrix – two month old huskies.
hometown: point pleasant, florida.
history: Before Craig Hart and Sophie Smithson were married, they were in love, and before they were in love, they were partners. Business partners in their families’ co-owned restaurant, Bottom of the Hart. While the Hart family ran the main restaurant, the Smithsons manned the small bakery-cafe that was adjoined just to the side. It was working together that brought them together. Though it took them long enough to realize it; the childhood friends who’d grown up together had been in love for quite some time. It was later in their lives that they married, both being in their thirties, but it was the best time for them, with the restaurant and all, it was difficult to find time to get married, and begin their family not a year later when Zoey Isabelle was born.
The Restaurant, strangely enough, was a wonderful place to raise a child. There was always a watchful eye to make sure she kept out of trouble, especially as Zoey grew older and into her curious tendencies coupled with the persuasion of her friends and regulars, she got into quite the trouble. And people always loved seeing the sweet-faced children wandering around; it was a sight to brighten anyone’s day. Zoey would sit at the hostess’ podium with her toys for hours while her mother set about helping the patrons of the restaurant or bakery, content in just drawing with her crayons on a piece of paper while older woman spoke gibberish to her and expected her to answer.
Much of her childhood days were spent like this; running around the restaurant, talking to guests and keeping them entertained once she learned to use her words. After a while, Zoey grew into tasks in both the restaurant and bakery, and became a great help to her father and mother. She would help in the kitchen, clean the tables off, wait on the patrons and bring them their food. Anything her mother wished for her to do, she was always ready to help. Often times, she did get caught up in the banter of the customers and would forget what she was doing to lend an ear or a shoulder, even if she was just a young child. She loved listening to the stories people had to tell her, and she made many friends of all shapes and sizes this way. People were always passing through the place, and Zoey had the chance to watch all of them.
Her school years were just as typical as anyone else’s; good grades she got from working hard, great friends, parties every weekend. There was nothing particularly spectacular about her. She didn’t join many clubs, and wasn’t on any sports teams, but she coasted through. It was at the end of her junior year that things changed drastically for Zoey though. After weeks of uncertainty, her mother’s test results had come back and had tested positive for breast cancer. For a while Zoey had been prepared for the news; the disease ran in the family, and she was frank when Zoey was very young, telling her it was very well probable that she’d get it.
As prepared as she may have been, she was still an awful wreck when her mother passed away in late December. For a while she didn’t return to her usual chipper self. The restaurant slowed down quite a bit, out of respect for her deceased mother and the fact that her father was contemplating selling it. Zoey actually agree; it was the pride of her mother’s existence, and it held all too many memories of her. It took a very long time before Zoey could actually gather up enough courage and go into her mother’s kitchen. The first time she went in, she made it to the doorway and broke down. Slowly, she made it in by pacing herself, taking a few steps at a time every time she came. The last time she ventured in she was supposed to clean the place out, or at least the more personal items, the restaurant had been sold.
She had already pulled off all the pictures from the walls, and was getting to the cookbook collection her mother was so proud of, placing each of them carefully in boxes to form neat piles, when she flipped through her mother’s compilation book; the place she inscribed her own recipes and her very favourites. The pages were full of her mother’s writing, but the back of the book still held many blank pages, her mother had only managed to complete little more than half in her lifetime. The empty pages looked wrong. Surely her mother had written more than this? Flipping back to the last page, she had to check to see if any had been torn out, but found that none had been, and instead, the last page had no measurements or ingredients, but her mother’s delicate long hand addressed to her. With that letter, Zoey managed to convince her father to cheer up, and keep the restaurant, just like her mother would have wanted. She too, went back to some version of her old self, but now more like her mother.
For the last few years, all Zoey has been concentrating on is the restaurant. It’s started consuming all of her free time, and she’s neglected studies for it. Her dreams of becoming a doctor and travelling the world with Doctors Without Borders had been pushed aside in favour of making her late mother, and father, happy.[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
SAY, HERE I AM, IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT
[/B][/color]ON AND ON, LOUDER AND LOUDER, IT'LL BUILD AND FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN
TO HATE, SHE SAID HERE I AM, SHE SAID HERE I AM, LOUDER AND LOUDER IT'LL BUILD AND FADE
FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN TO HATE[/center][/FONT][/SIZE][/B]
other characters in jackson: none
best way to reach you: pm or msn/aim is probably best.
Sample:
For a moment, she almost lost it. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand, and she was sorely holding back the urge to chuck it at the wall in anger. Halfway posed to throw the small, vulnerable object at the cement side of the building, she realized what she was doing, and immediately placed her hand back to the side of her body and her phone in the side pocket of her bag. A miniscule furious outcry wasn’t going to help much, and it certainly wasn’t in her nature. Ana was calm, collected, and never angered unless for good reason, though this one seemed as good as any, if not ever. Rarely anything penetrated Ana’s seemingly cold and uncaring façade. And under the circumstances that anything did manage to get her nerves enough to visibly trouble her was obviously sometime huge and tumultuous.
This had been going on for the past few weeks, increasing when she had gone home for the winter holidays. They were only winter holidays for Ana, seeing as her Christmas came while at school. Nevertheless, she had been forced to go home. She had wanted to stay at the school and avoid both her mother and father, which was odd since she usually wished to see him, but even the suggestion that maybe she should stay at the school had resulted in a furious phone call from her mother, who never actually took the time to call Ana herself, which had resulted in a lot of yelling on her mother’s part, accompanied with what was harsh whispers from Ana herself. The woman was infuriating, truly. It was all her fault that Stasiya had spent her entire supposed to be break, fighting with her mother, not speaking to her father and receiving pop quizzes from him sporadically, and basically wasting the whole break away. It was supposed to be relaxing, time away from school, but Ana had returned more riled up than ever. She was more stressed than ever with her father stressing more and more that they had years of training to catch up on. Not one member of her immediate family had remembered her birthday. She had been resigned to thanking distant relatives, members of the staff, and the general public either in face to face conversation or through her twitter. A rather terrible way to spent your seventeenth birthday. If she had stayed at the school than maybe Nada would have at least been around. They could have gone out for frozen yogurt or something. But no, the day of her birthday had been spent in her father’s study, examining old laws on immigration and given a short period of time to find better solutions. No one should have to spend their birthday with records and files.
The sudden chill breeze that whipped around her reminded her of her current position. She had originally gone out of the school building for some privacy during her phone call, and hadn’t thought to grab her coat on the way out, not being sure of how long the call would last. She was feeling the effects of her stupidity now, with the goosebumps raising on her arms and the shivers running through her. The wind was almost numbing as it played against the exposed skin of her arms, face and the small amount of collarbone and chest that were exposed, no doubt turning the skin pink with wind burn. The sensation almost felt good, like she could concentrate that rather than her previous failure during the phone call. The chill raked through her body, and she decided that staying out here for a little while longer may not be the best idea, but might help in clearing her head. Propping herself up against the brick wall closest to her, she pulled her beloved dayplanner from her bag and a pen. She never went anywhere without it. Losing the leather bound book would mean losing a critical part of her life. Her entire being was pretty much contained within the pages. She’d certainly go mad without out. Turning to a particular page, she made a small notch in black ink under the ‘Father’ section, and added the date and time at the bottom of the page. Currently, her father had gotten her twenty-two, make that twenty-three times, while she had only managed to answer nine. Considering her dislike of failure and losing, and of disappointment that she could clearly hear in her father’s voice every time she wasn’t able to answer a question, plan something perfectly, or find the right solution, it was killing her.
Holding both objects in her one hand, she let her head drop and her brown hair cloud around her as her other hand searched for her phone which she had previously placed in her bag. Once her fingers connected with the cool, sleek form of her one other love, her precious BlackBerry (backup of her dayplanner) she pulled the object up to her ear, pressing the answer button at the same time. “Hello?” she spoke tiredly into the phone. Repeating the word over again, twice, at short intervals, she finally pulled the communication device from her ear and looked at the screen. No one had called her at all. It was a text. From Nada. Nada who had a particular ringtone for each manner of communication that could be had on a cell phone. Obviously, her mind wasn’t where she needed it to be right now. That might have been even more frustrating than not being able to answer her father’s question about a trade agreement that had been made in 1953 between Russia and the United States. Well, it wasn’t worse, but it was fairly close to equal.
Quickly letting her eyes skim over the bright screen and the words on it, she replied back one handed, only to receive another response not long after. Absentmindedly as she read the second text, she wiped her nose on her arm. Ew. When the nose started running, it was time to get out of the cold. Pocketing the phone once again after answering, she gathered her things and made her way back inside. Having time to kill, she made a detour toward the library, daintily blowing her nose into a Kleenex pulled from her bag and tossing it on the way. Giving the librarian a quick wave in return, she dropped her books into the return bin, and went to find a book on various countries’ relations with the U.S. as she didn’t have one in her collection. After checking out, she put the book into her bag and pulled out her planner and cell phone once again, indicating the day of take out and return in them both while walking somewhat hurriedly back to the room she shared with Nada and Anne of England. She tested the knob before pulling out her key, finding it unlocked she let herself in, knowing Nada was already in the room. “Have you been waiting long?” she said, taking her phone in her one hand and her planner and pen in the other while closing the door lightly with her foot.
This had been going on for the past few weeks, increasing when she had gone home for the winter holidays. They were only winter holidays for Ana, seeing as her Christmas came while at school. Nevertheless, she had been forced to go home. She had wanted to stay at the school and avoid both her mother and father, which was odd since she usually wished to see him, but even the suggestion that maybe she should stay at the school had resulted in a furious phone call from her mother, who never actually took the time to call Ana herself, which had resulted in a lot of yelling on her mother’s part, accompanied with what was harsh whispers from Ana herself. The woman was infuriating, truly. It was all her fault that Stasiya had spent her entire supposed to be break, fighting with her mother, not speaking to her father and receiving pop quizzes from him sporadically, and basically wasting the whole break away. It was supposed to be relaxing, time away from school, but Ana had returned more riled up than ever. She was more stressed than ever with her father stressing more and more that they had years of training to catch up on. Not one member of her immediate family had remembered her birthday. She had been resigned to thanking distant relatives, members of the staff, and the general public either in face to face conversation or through her twitter. A rather terrible way to spent your seventeenth birthday. If she had stayed at the school than maybe Nada would have at least been around. They could have gone out for frozen yogurt or something. But no, the day of her birthday had been spent in her father’s study, examining old laws on immigration and given a short period of time to find better solutions. No one should have to spend their birthday with records and files.
The sudden chill breeze that whipped around her reminded her of her current position. She had originally gone out of the school building for some privacy during her phone call, and hadn’t thought to grab her coat on the way out, not being sure of how long the call would last. She was feeling the effects of her stupidity now, with the goosebumps raising on her arms and the shivers running through her. The wind was almost numbing as it played against the exposed skin of her arms, face and the small amount of collarbone and chest that were exposed, no doubt turning the skin pink with wind burn. The sensation almost felt good, like she could concentrate that rather than her previous failure during the phone call. The chill raked through her body, and she decided that staying out here for a little while longer may not be the best idea, but might help in clearing her head. Propping herself up against the brick wall closest to her, she pulled her beloved dayplanner from her bag and a pen. She never went anywhere without it. Losing the leather bound book would mean losing a critical part of her life. Her entire being was pretty much contained within the pages. She’d certainly go mad without out. Turning to a particular page, she made a small notch in black ink under the ‘Father’ section, and added the date and time at the bottom of the page. Currently, her father had gotten her twenty-two, make that twenty-three times, while she had only managed to answer nine. Considering her dislike of failure and losing, and of disappointment that she could clearly hear in her father’s voice every time she wasn’t able to answer a question, plan something perfectly, or find the right solution, it was killing her.
Holding both objects in her one hand, she let her head drop and her brown hair cloud around her as her other hand searched for her phone which she had previously placed in her bag. Once her fingers connected with the cool, sleek form of her one other love, her precious BlackBerry (backup of her dayplanner) she pulled the object up to her ear, pressing the answer button at the same time. “Hello?” she spoke tiredly into the phone. Repeating the word over again, twice, at short intervals, she finally pulled the communication device from her ear and looked at the screen. No one had called her at all. It was a text. From Nada. Nada who had a particular ringtone for each manner of communication that could be had on a cell phone. Obviously, her mind wasn’t where she needed it to be right now. That might have been even more frustrating than not being able to answer her father’s question about a trade agreement that had been made in 1953 between Russia and the United States. Well, it wasn’t worse, but it was fairly close to equal.
Quickly letting her eyes skim over the bright screen and the words on it, she replied back one handed, only to receive another response not long after. Absentmindedly as she read the second text, she wiped her nose on her arm. Ew. When the nose started running, it was time to get out of the cold. Pocketing the phone once again after answering, she gathered her things and made her way back inside. Having time to kill, she made a detour toward the library, daintily blowing her nose into a Kleenex pulled from her bag and tossing it on the way. Giving the librarian a quick wave in return, she dropped her books into the return bin, and went to find a book on various countries’ relations with the U.S. as she didn’t have one in her collection. After checking out, she put the book into her bag and pulled out her planner and cell phone once again, indicating the day of take out and return in them both while walking somewhat hurriedly back to the room she shared with Nada and Anne of England. She tested the knob before pulling out her key, finding it unlocked she let herself in, knowing Nada was already in the room. “Have you been waiting long?” she said, taking her phone in her one hand and her planner and pen in the other while closing the door lightly with her foot.
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this application template was made by LADY AND THE TRAMP !? of CAUTION 2.O
do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
