Application to ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif)
notmayberry
[OOC Info]
Player name: Andie
Time zone: Central Standard
AIM/Email: awkwardlyprosaic / andavis86@gmail.com
RP Experience: Far too much for my own good, probably. I started off with what were called "character games" on a now-defunct web forum devoted to pre-teen girls, and have been going fairly strong since around the age of 12 or 13. I'm now 23 years old. You do the math.
[IC Info]
[Basics]
Muse Name: Isaac Murphy
Muse Journal:![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
fromthewoodwork
PB: Ryan Gosling (during his Half Nelson time)
[Appearance]
Right from the get-go, there's going to be a point of contention about Isaac's height. Until the day he dies, he will claim it as a solid 6'1". Why this figure is so important, he isn't quite sure, but from the day he finally reached his full height, he's always called himself 6'1". Granted this measurement was handed over to him by his rather-slight little waif of a mother who measured him up against a piece of masking tape on the inside of the closet door, but 6'1" it is. And while, yes, the physical he was required to complete for potential enlistment purposes marked him at 6'0" even, you'll never hear him give that figure, official as it may be.
Weight is of significantly less consequence to Isaac. He's a fairly skinny guy and his clothes tend to have this sort of drooping hang where they just lie on his frame like he was a clothes hanger and not the actual flesh and blood of a human being. But he's healthy, for the most part. His hair is brown and of an average length for men. Pieces of it seem to be in a constant cow-lick. He could start the day with it perfectly brushed, but somehow by 10:30 in the morning it's always a mess. He just keeps his facial hair trimmed enough that it's not one of those scraggly ZZ Top-wannabes, but it's been years since he's actually shaved his face completely, and one shouldn't count on it happening anytime soon.
Isaac definitely isn't a guy who considers himself attractive. He looks in the mirror and doesn't really care one way or another what he sees. It's not as though he goes out of his way to keep himself all trim and primped for the ladies. His body is functional. There's no need for this metrosexual sort of fussing that seems to be all over the news lately.
[History]
Born and raised in Mayhill, NE, Isaac was like most any other child in that all he wanted was to get the hell out of town. Though everyone around him warned that the little town had a way of sucking people right back in, he knew he'd escape one day. It wasn't that he considered himself smarter or better than his peers. He didn't think himself luckier or more driven. He just knew what he wanted to do, and was going to do it at any and all cost. So his years in school were spent doing what he had to, to get by. He never struggled much with the lessons, but he also didn't quite care to do his coursework or even show up and shut up most days. He wasn't the class clown or the intellectual. He wasn't everyone's friend or the stoner. He just simply was.
Upon graduation from high school, Isaac hightailed himself to the nearest Marine Corps Recruiter and began the process of enlistment. His paternal grandfather, whom he admired more than life itself, had been a decorated soldier in World War II. Even knowing that he had been shot twice in the line of duty did not deter Isaac at all. Though his grandpa refused to speak about the war when alive, and likely would have ostracized his grandson for his decision (were he not already dead by that point), Isaac went through with the examinations, intent upon leaving that evening with contract in-hand. What he didn't expect was to return with his tail between his legs and a Class 4-F put to his name. Ineligible for service. Disqualified. For reasons the young man still refuses to speak of, he would not ever come to fulfill that dream.
Isaac drifted aimlessly for a while, making his way from one job to another with no real passion or drive for what he was doing. Finally he came to realize that money doesn't exactly grow on trees, and if he wanted to support himself in even a meagre lifestyle, he was going to have to buck up and get a job. So the young man went to work for a local wood carver, the type of artisan who made signs, furniture, and the occasional superfluous gift for townsfolk who had the money to burn or people who were passing through. Isaac imagined he would be sweeping floors and fielding calls, but the elderly man soon revealed to him that he was dying, and was looking for someone to prepare to take over the business. Even though he wasn't exactly what the man had in mind, Isaac had a talent for the task, and soon became the sole proprietor of Osage Orange Wood Carvings. The economic climate of the town, and the word at large for that matter, caused business to slow significantly, and a few years ago he also took on the job as a car detailer.
[Personality]
Depending upon who you are and what situation you find yourself in with Isaac, his personality has the ability to change and adapt greatly. He's a bit of a little chameleon -- not in the sense that he is insincere or an outright liar, but just in that he knows how to please people. Now this doesn't mean he's always going to. Don't expect sunshine and rainbows to burst out of him and he to go skipping off to fulfill your every beck and call. He isn't a pushover. But he was bred to have some manners in him. He knows what's expected of him, and he mostly fulfills that role with ease. Like going to church on Sundays even if Monday morning he's going to be right back to cursing the lord for yet another blood stain seeped in to the upholstery of Mr. Allison's Chevy. Or the stain of fuck-knows-what in the back of the high school quarterback's classic ride.
[Personal Life]
So, Isaac didn't get out. Here he is, still in Mayhill at 27 years of age, though he promised himself he'd be out of there before he turned 19. He's making the best of it, to the greatest of his ability. The young man has been working at Osage Orange Wood Carvings alone for the past few years now, and though he could use some help, he's not in the financial position to pay someone for their time. The car detailing -- that he can handle alone. But even if business is a single-party ordeal, Isaac isn't necessarily the loner. He's the guy you'll see out drinking with the guys Saturday night, only to find starched and pressed and looking mighty weary in the church pews Sunday morning. He doesn't have a family of his own, and doesn't even speak of such things, but he isn't opposed to the prospect of one day roping a woman for his own. He's just not sure that there's one to be had to his satisfaction around these parts.
[Writing Sample]
"The next blood stain someone asks me to remove, I'm charging double!" Isaac hollered, just a fraction above the decibel of the radio currently blaring the third Taylor Swift song it had played in the hour. He sighed as he hunkered down into the back seat of the old 4x4 and began the arduous process of removing yet another specimen of animal body fluids he only hoped had come from a deer carcass last open season.
This wasn't the job he loved, if he could profess much adoration for anything that he did. But at least a piece of wood didn't have the potential to give him all manner of diseases, at at least there were those little satisfying curls of bark as he whittled and not just the overpowering smell of fumes. Isaac couldn't help but imagine himself back in his shop, locked away making the matching coffee-table base out of an old twisted tree trunk. Sweet solitude, just for a few moments...
"I'm takin' a break," he announced to no one in particular, untangling himself from the back seat and just managing to catch the crown of his head on the doorframe. A light curse followed, but not to be deterred, he reached into his front pocket for a half-empty carton of Pall Malls and his black Bic lighter from the local Kum and Go.
Player name: Andie
Time zone: Central Standard
AIM/Email: awkwardlyprosaic / andavis86@gmail.com
RP Experience: Far too much for my own good, probably. I started off with what were called "character games" on a now-defunct web forum devoted to pre-teen girls, and have been going fairly strong since around the age of 12 or 13. I'm now 23 years old. You do the math.
[IC Info]
[Basics]
Muse Name: Isaac Murphy
Muse Journal:
fromthewoodworkPB: Ryan Gosling (during his Half Nelson time)
[Appearance]
Right from the get-go, there's going to be a point of contention about Isaac's height. Until the day he dies, he will claim it as a solid 6'1". Why this figure is so important, he isn't quite sure, but from the day he finally reached his full height, he's always called himself 6'1". Granted this measurement was handed over to him by his rather-slight little waif of a mother who measured him up against a piece of masking tape on the inside of the closet door, but 6'1" it is. And while, yes, the physical he was required to complete for potential enlistment purposes marked him at 6'0" even, you'll never hear him give that figure, official as it may be.
Weight is of significantly less consequence to Isaac. He's a fairly skinny guy and his clothes tend to have this sort of drooping hang where they just lie on his frame like he was a clothes hanger and not the actual flesh and blood of a human being. But he's healthy, for the most part. His hair is brown and of an average length for men. Pieces of it seem to be in a constant cow-lick. He could start the day with it perfectly brushed, but somehow by 10:30 in the morning it's always a mess. He just keeps his facial hair trimmed enough that it's not one of those scraggly ZZ Top-wannabes, but it's been years since he's actually shaved his face completely, and one shouldn't count on it happening anytime soon.
Isaac definitely isn't a guy who considers himself attractive. He looks in the mirror and doesn't really care one way or another what he sees. It's not as though he goes out of his way to keep himself all trim and primped for the ladies. His body is functional. There's no need for this metrosexual sort of fussing that seems to be all over the news lately.
[History]
Born and raised in Mayhill, NE, Isaac was like most any other child in that all he wanted was to get the hell out of town. Though everyone around him warned that the little town had a way of sucking people right back in, he knew he'd escape one day. It wasn't that he considered himself smarter or better than his peers. He didn't think himself luckier or more driven. He just knew what he wanted to do, and was going to do it at any and all cost. So his years in school were spent doing what he had to, to get by. He never struggled much with the lessons, but he also didn't quite care to do his coursework or even show up and shut up most days. He wasn't the class clown or the intellectual. He wasn't everyone's friend or the stoner. He just simply was.
Upon graduation from high school, Isaac hightailed himself to the nearest Marine Corps Recruiter and began the process of enlistment. His paternal grandfather, whom he admired more than life itself, had been a decorated soldier in World War II. Even knowing that he had been shot twice in the line of duty did not deter Isaac at all. Though his grandpa refused to speak about the war when alive, and likely would have ostracized his grandson for his decision (were he not already dead by that point), Isaac went through with the examinations, intent upon leaving that evening with contract in-hand. What he didn't expect was to return with his tail between his legs and a Class 4-F put to his name. Ineligible for service. Disqualified. For reasons the young man still refuses to speak of, he would not ever come to fulfill that dream.
Isaac drifted aimlessly for a while, making his way from one job to another with no real passion or drive for what he was doing. Finally he came to realize that money doesn't exactly grow on trees, and if he wanted to support himself in even a meagre lifestyle, he was going to have to buck up and get a job. So the young man went to work for a local wood carver, the type of artisan who made signs, furniture, and the occasional superfluous gift for townsfolk who had the money to burn or people who were passing through. Isaac imagined he would be sweeping floors and fielding calls, but the elderly man soon revealed to him that he was dying, and was looking for someone to prepare to take over the business. Even though he wasn't exactly what the man had in mind, Isaac had a talent for the task, and soon became the sole proprietor of Osage Orange Wood Carvings. The economic climate of the town, and the word at large for that matter, caused business to slow significantly, and a few years ago he also took on the job as a car detailer.
[Personality]
Depending upon who you are and what situation you find yourself in with Isaac, his personality has the ability to change and adapt greatly. He's a bit of a little chameleon -- not in the sense that he is insincere or an outright liar, but just in that he knows how to please people. Now this doesn't mean he's always going to. Don't expect sunshine and rainbows to burst out of him and he to go skipping off to fulfill your every beck and call. He isn't a pushover. But he was bred to have some manners in him. He knows what's expected of him, and he mostly fulfills that role with ease. Like going to church on Sundays even if Monday morning he's going to be right back to cursing the lord for yet another blood stain seeped in to the upholstery of Mr. Allison's Chevy. Or the stain of fuck-knows-what in the back of the high school quarterback's classic ride.
[Personal Life]
So, Isaac didn't get out. Here he is, still in Mayhill at 27 years of age, though he promised himself he'd be out of there before he turned 19. He's making the best of it, to the greatest of his ability. The young man has been working at Osage Orange Wood Carvings alone for the past few years now, and though he could use some help, he's not in the financial position to pay someone for their time. The car detailing -- that he can handle alone. But even if business is a single-party ordeal, Isaac isn't necessarily the loner. He's the guy you'll see out drinking with the guys Saturday night, only to find starched and pressed and looking mighty weary in the church pews Sunday morning. He doesn't have a family of his own, and doesn't even speak of such things, but he isn't opposed to the prospect of one day roping a woman for his own. He's just not sure that there's one to be had to his satisfaction around these parts.
[Writing Sample]
"The next blood stain someone asks me to remove, I'm charging double!" Isaac hollered, just a fraction above the decibel of the radio currently blaring the third Taylor Swift song it had played in the hour. He sighed as he hunkered down into the back seat of the old 4x4 and began the arduous process of removing yet another specimen of animal body fluids he only hoped had come from a deer carcass last open season.
This wasn't the job he loved, if he could profess much adoration for anything that he did. But at least a piece of wood didn't have the potential to give him all manner of diseases, at at least there were those little satisfying curls of bark as he whittled and not just the overpowering smell of fumes. Isaac couldn't help but imagine himself back in his shop, locked away making the matching coffee-table base out of an old twisted tree trunk. Sweet solitude, just for a few moments...
"I'm takin' a break," he announced to no one in particular, untangling himself from the back seat and just managing to catch the crown of his head on the doorframe. A light curse followed, but not to be deterred, he reached into his front pocket for a half-empty carton of Pall Malls and his black Bic lighter from the local Kum and Go.