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Patrick Aaron Russell

Landsburg Senior

My Content
Sep 25 2012, 08:13 PM
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Patrick Aaron Russell

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<b>Nicknames</b> "Katie's friend", "Goober", "Dweeb", "Loser", etc.
<br><b>Birthday</b> December 18 February 19
<br><b>Birthplace</b> Madison, Wisconsin Washington, D.C.
<br><b>Age</b> 17 18
<br><b>School You Attend</b> Landsburg
<br><b>Current Grade</b> Senior
<br><b>Height</b> 5'11"
<br><b>Build</b> Skinny with a little bit of muscle. He runs every morning, but that's about the extent of his work-outs.
<br><b>Distinguishing Features</b> Patrick has short, chocolate-brown hair, and eyes to match. Just by looking at him, people would assume he's a friendly, happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He is, by no means, a supermodel, but he's not the ugliest guy around. He has a bit of muscle on him, but he's certainly not a weightlifter. Blonde hair, blue eyes that he gets from both of his parents. He wears brown contacts and dyes his hair to cover up these features, something he's been doing since he was five years old.
<br><b>Playby</b> Dylan O'Brien <p>
<p><b>Family</b> Alexander Russell Robert Edwards, 46, owner of a hardware store police officer
<br>Sarah Russell Jane Edwards, 45, secretary at Landsburg High School elementary school teacher

</div></td><td id="cell2" valign="top"><img src="" width="250px" height="300px"></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" id="cell3"><br><div class="maintitle">The Interview</div><br>

</div><p><div class="q">WHY DON'T WE GET THE BASICS OUT OF THE WAY.</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
I'm Patrick Aaron Russell, named after both of my grandfathers. My best friend calls me Goober and Patty, even though I prefer Patrick. I prefer Patrick to "loser", "dweeb", "homo", and pretty much everything else I'm called.
<p>I'm seventeen, and I'm a senior at Landsburg High. Not that anyone's noticed. I'm not exactly at the top of the social ladder. Hell, I'm not even on it. Not too much you can do about your status when you read comic books, are socially retarded, and shake it as Willy Woodchuck at every school sporting event and pep rally. Yes, I'm the mascot. The popular kids love to remind me of that.
<p>Anyways, when I'm not socially retarded, I like to think I'm a nice guy. I like to hang out with people, talk about whatever, and go to concerts and whatnot. I have to go to every sporting event, being the mascot, but I enjoy watching the games. I like to think I'm a pretty caring, understanding guy, too. I like to help my best friend with her problems, and I try to make her laugh or something to forget about them.

</div><p><div class="q">I HEAR YOU HAD QUITE THE CHILDHOOD...</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
My childhood was alright. I was an only child, so I didn't have any siblings or anything to pick on me or rat me out to Mom and Dad. It was nice getting all the presents under the Christmas tree, but it was kind of boring. When they were at work, they'd hire the next-door neighbor to watch me. Mrs. Norris was ancient, and all she'd do is sleep in the arm chair while watching "Antiques Roadshow". I'd pretty much be out in the backyard with our Golden Retriever named Bill, and she'd sometimes let me go over to a friend's house until they all moved away.
<br>We weren't exactly rolling in money, but we lived (and still live) comfortably. I've never known poverty or anything, so I can't really complain. We moved here when I was in first grade, and I've been here ever since.

<p>I grew up in an extremely affluent neighborhood in Washington, D.C. with my parents and my older sister Katie. When I was five years old, my father testified against a gang in court, and to protect our family, we went into the witness protection program. We got different names, dyed our hair, and were fitted with brown contacts. My sister was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in Arizona and pose as my cousin, while my parents and I went to live in Chicago, and we've been here ever since. My dad got a job owning an old hardware store, and my mom got a job as a secretary at Landsburg High. And me? Now I'm the social scum of the school.

</div><p><div class="q">WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR LIKES AND DISLIKES?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
  • hanging out with Katie: Probably one of the only things I do on a regular basis that makes me genuinely happy. Katie's my best friend, and makes my life's problems so much less serious.
  • Video games: I like playing stuff like Halo and Kingdom where I can kill stuff without consequence. It's a great stress-reliever.
  • Spending time with family: Almost every night, my family has a sit-down dinner, and we just get caught-up with each other's lives. We're strong believers in family connections, so we're making strong ones now.
  • football games: besides the fact I'm in that stupid Woodchuck suit, I enjoy going to football games and watching the game. Even if the football players are bullying jerks.
  • reading: I like to read. I like immersing myself in a story, and feeling emotionally attached to the characters and whatnot. It's just a great escape. I especially like Marvel Comics. They're my favorite.
  • being Willy Woodchuck: I hate wearing that sweaty, smelly outfit, but someone has to do it. Mind as well be me.
  • Chicago: Yeah, I don't really like it here all that much. I wish we were still in my hometown.
  • when people insult Katie: Yeah, that's not cool with me. She's been through a lot, and doesn't deserve to be bullied.
  • pep rallies: yeah, shaking it in front of the whole school is highly embarrassing. Nothing like getting cans thrown at you from the bleachers.
  • basketball: basketball is probably the most boring sport in the history of the world. I hate watching it, I hate playing

</div><p><div class="q">HOW ABOUT SOME TURN ONS AND TURN OFFS?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
Blonde hair, the name Katie, and someone who actually treats me like a human being, and not like I'm the scum of the Earth. Turn offs? I guess anything besides that. I really don't like it when girls treat me like I don't have feelings, and when they get their boyfriends to shove me into lockers and whatnot. If you've ever called me "dweeb", "loser", or "homo", chances are that I don't like you as a human being. If you're nice to me, I'll be nice to you. Simple as that.

</div><p><div class="q">I HEAR YOU'VE GOT SOME NASTY HABITS...</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
Besides being socially retarded? I'm pretty clumsy...I've wiped out a few times in the Willy Woodchuck costume in front of everyone. I guess I bite my nails every so often.

</div><p><div class="q">WHAT ABOUT PHOBIAS? HAVE ANY OF THOSE?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
Well, I'm not afraid of being invisible, since I pretty much am. I guess my biggest fear is that Katie's going to find someone better than me, and she'll forget all about me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her.
<p>I'm afraid that someone from that gang is going to find my family and hurt us, especially my parents.

</div><p><div class="q">TERRIFYING! HOW'S THE LOVE LIFE GOING?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
What love life? The one where I'm hopelessly in love with my best friend, and I don't mean anything like that to her? Yeah, it's going great.

</div><p><div class="q">WHAT ARE YOUR MAJOR GOALS AFTER GRADUATION?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
I don't really know right now. I don't even know if I want to go to college. I guess I should figure that out...
<p>The police are kind of touchy about me going to college, since there are some members of that gang all over the country, and they might somehow recognize me. I don't believe in that, since I was FIVE when we entered the program, but whatever.

</div><p><div class="q">BEFORE WE GO, WHAT'S YOUR BIG SECRET?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
I don't have any secrets. Well, besides being in love with my best friend, Katie Buchanan, but that's not really a secret. I'm so socially retarded that I've made it blatantly obvious that I do. So, no, I don't really have any secrets.
<p>My father is a cop. We're currently in witness protection because of it. My real name is Tyler James Edwards, and I was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

</div><p><div class="q">AND WHAT ARE YOUR VIEWS ON SECRET SAFE?</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
It's exactly what it is: gossip. It's stupid, immature, and not worth anyone's time.

</div><p><div class="q">THANKS FOR YOUR TIME.</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb">
Thanks for having me! Guess I should go back to practice...

</div><br><br><div class="maintitle">Out Of Character</div><br>

<br><b>Name:</b> Peeta<br>
<b>Gender / Age:</b> Female, 20<br>
<b>Contact Info:</b> PM, AIM/MSN upon request<br>
<b>Other Characters:</b> None right now<br>
<b>User Title:</b> The Best Friend<br>

<p><div class="q">Roleplay Sample</div><div class="fda"></div><div class="fdb" style="min-height:200px;">

Sunday night's family dinners were special for one reason only: that was the night Katie called from Arizona. We weren't allowed to see her; we were only allowed to call her once a week. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than never hearing from her again.
<br>My mother held the phone in her hand as she sat down to the table, our meal in bowls and on plates in the middle of the table. Mom is a master chef. A beautiful roast, mashed potatoes, asparagus...this was a feast that anyone would die for.
<br>My father has the same, stoic look on his face that he always wore, a remnant of his time on the force. Strong, unwavering. The kind of man mothers wanted their sons to become. He picked up the plate with the roast on it and started carving, handing us all even slices. I scoop out mashed potatoes onto my plate, and when my father holds out his plate and grunts, I know that means he wants some too. I oblige him, and then my mother, and then receive some asparagus from my mother.
<br>The phone, now sitting on the table, is silent. We continue with our meal, and the sound of our utensils scraping the plate fill the room.
<br>”How was work today, Alex?” We’ve grown accustomed to calling each other by our new names, but it still sounds foreign to me.
<br>”Alright. I sold a lawn mower today.”
<br>My father used to be a man of many words, but years of unhappiness has ground him down to one-sentence responses. My mother nods and continues eating. I stay silent.
<br>”And what’s going on at school tomorrow, Patrick?”
<br>”I have practice until five.”
<br>I take after my father.
<br>My mother nods again, and eats a tiny bite of her food. We all sneak glances at the phone every couple seconds, waiting for it to ring, just like every other Sunday night dinner.
<br>The meal passes without another word, and my mother gathers the dishes and starts loading the dishwasher. I retreat to my room to do some homework, and my father remains at the table, stone silent and stoic. I leave the door cracked open, and start in on my Algebra when I hear my mother’s quiet sobs in between clattering dishes. I hear my father’s chair scoot away from the table, and his labored footsteps. The sobs become muffled, and I know my father has swallowed my small mother in his arms, the only things that provided her any comfort anymore. Her daughter had either forgotten, or was too busy to call. This has only happened once, when Katie…I mean, Allison…had a date, and forgot to set an alarm to slip out to call.
<br>I sit in silence for a while, then slip out into the kitchen, where I’m swallowed in a small group hug.
<br>We are all we have left, a broken family that could never be repaired. This was my life.


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