Post by William Demonte on May 25, 2009 16:26:39 GMT -5
( WILLIAMDEMONTE )
( BEHINDTHESCREEN )
( BEHINDTHESCREEN )
NAME: N.M.
NICKNAMES: Just N.M. is fine
AGE: 21
GENDER:
BIRTHDAY: Oct 19
( THEBASICS )
NAME: William Demonte (deh-MON-tay)
NICKNAMES: Mr. Demonte, Will
AGE: 28
GENDER: Male
BIRTHDAY: March 22
SCHOOL: English teacher at the Parthenon
GRADE: n/a
Species: Human
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight/bi-curious
( THEAPPEARANCE )
FACE: Milo Ventimiglia
HEIGHT: 5’9”
WEIGHT: 152 lbs.
HAIR&EYE COLOR: Dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: None
( THEPERSONALITY )
• Introverted
• Hard to please
• Sarcastic
• Dedicated to his work
• Impatient
LIKES: Money, being dominant, himself too much, reading, women
DISLIKES: Teenagers, drama, unintelligent people, social gatherings, tardiness
STRENGTHS: Good work ethic, his intelligence, his reasoning skills
WEAKNESSES: Being materialistic, uncompassionate, judging others
( THEHISTORY )
• Born in New York City
• Lived in a run down apartment building with his parents
• Parents died when he was 8; mother died from sickness, father committed suicide
• Put into an orphanage, then adopted by a very rich family
• Once they paid for him to finish his college education from NYU with a Master’s degree in English, he never spoke to them again.
PARENTS: Real parents, deceased. Adoptive parents, no contact
SIBLINGS: None
OTHER FAMILY: Not that he knows of
( &ETCETERA )
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: A journal entry from one of my other characters (female). It relates to William in some ways.Talking about my father isn’t something I normally like to do, but I feel like I have had a lot on my mind lately that I need to get off my chest. It’s a situation that is very personal to me, and I’m sure many people have experienced something close to it. I’ve never met my father. When my mother got pregnant with me, he disappeared. My mom doesn’t know exactly why he left, either. Or maybe she just never told me. I figure he just wasn’t ready to become a dad. But most of my childhood was assuming that he hated me.
It all kind of made sense that he would hate me. I mean, I never fit in. I was the nerdy girl who liked classical music and theatre. All of the popular girls in school ignored me, no matter how hard I tried to be their friends. I felt as if I would never amount to anything, regardless of my mother’s constant compliments and praises. When I was 7, I found where I belonged… at the Metropolitan Opera. I was surrounded by “nerds” just like me who enjoyed singing, dancing, and acting. I finally fit in some where, and it was then I realized that I wanted to stick with it all. Pretending to be someone else made me feel free inside, lost in another world.
My mother talked to my father on the phone occasionally, though he never wanted to talk to me. She would ask him to come and see me in one of my shows, but he would always decline. After the shows I would force my mother to wait with me until the entire theatre was empty, just hoping he might be there. He never showed up. When I grew older, my mom informed me that he did come to one of my shows, but he didn’t stick around to say hello.
One year, he was supposed to come for my birthday. I wore my favorite dress, with matching ribbons in my hair. I wanted to look perfect for him. I wanted him to be proud that I was his daughter. I waited by the front door all day, so excited to finally meet him. He never came. I cried myself to sleep all night.
I matured very quickly upon entering the “show business.” The adults that I encountered have taught me so many life lessons, and I learned to just move past all of this hurt left by my father. I was even brave enough to express myself through a song about him, which was very liberating.
Lately though, I have been feeling this residual pain and emptiness. Inside I’ve always longed to meet him, to know him. It’s really hard to understand who you are if you don’t know where you came from. My mother thinks I moved past it all, but this is a secret I’ve been keeping. I’m always asking myself why he never wanted to see me. What did I do wrong? Or was it something else? Maybe he had a problem with alcohol or drugs. I don’t know. I’ll probably never know. All I do know is, there will always be that little girl inside wishing her daddy was there.
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ANYTHING ELSE?: Nothing unless you would like to know more.
