SOUZA, gage markus

[gage]

GAGE MARKUS SOUZA
you and i should meet.

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GAZE INTO HER KILLING JAR
i'd sometimes stare for hours[/color]
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name: gage markus souza (it's gage, okay?)
age: twenty-two
birthday: june sixth
band name: mess of me
position: lead guitar/rapper
play by: corey pattakos

LOOK IN MY EYES.

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you're killing me, killing me.[/size][/center]

likes:
+ his six string acoustic (err... scratch that, any guitar)
+ beatboxing
+ rapping
+ his band and his buddies (of course)
+ surprises
+ coming up with random notes/lyrics
+ going to parties
+ cussing (O.o)
+ fans
+ being on stage and preforming, finally being the star
+ being liked
dislikes:
- most alcohol
- people who let themselves get walked on
- sluts who throw themselves on him (despite most ideas of this guy)
- school stuffs
- being pushed too hard
- being compared to sembody else
- girly-girls
- crappy weather
- technology failures (he sucks at tech stuff, too...)
- a bad day
habits:
~ rubbing the back of his neck in awkward situations
~ mumbling about the irresponsible deeds of his bandmates
~ getting up at five-thirty in the morning
secrets:
' A previous alcoholic
overall personality:

BROTHERLY. Being the oldest of the group, Gage quickly took on the older brother figure and it suits him quite nicely. He has a little tendency to try to tell his friends the proper thing to do, however his voice and rule is normally overridden. Still, like any other brother, he loves his boys with his heart. Not that anybody should know that... Without them, he'd be royally screwed because he would have nobody. Absolutely nobody.

RESPONSIBLE&&RESPECTED. Obviously, being the oldest has its perks. For one, he is easily respected because of his age. However, he isn't exactly twenty-two on the inside. Just because he refuses to drink more than one glass of wine doesn't mean that he's a whimp. He's just had bad experiences, nothing more.

ANGER. You see, Gage has a very even temper. It's actually closer to the slow side. He isn't one who you can pull anger out of very easily. He isn't going to put up a fight over something stupid. Then there's those moments where he loses it. During that time, it's best to stay clear away from Gage. Why? If he was angry enough, he could kill you. Easily. But he wouldn't! Depending on who you were...

OTHER. I guess everything about him just makes him him. Gage. There's no way to change him and he doesn't plan to change for anybody. He likes himself the way he is and even if he lets some kids go to a party or two doesn't mean he's a horrible person. He just wants the rest of his band to be happy. He habitually puts other before himself. Ooh, and just a note, he's rather rude to anybody outside of his little circle of friends. That's why most fans don't like him the most...

I'M AN ADDICT FOR DRAMATICS
i confuse the two for love

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mom: Genniveve Hart (Souza)
dad: Dylan Souza
siblings: Brittney Souza
other important figures: Some Band Teacher...
overall history: Let's skip the whole "mommy and daddy met at a restaurant with no food." Let’s pass by the birth of his big sister. Let’s completely ignore those three years where she was the star of the family. How about we start with the important information.

June sixth, a day that should be used for celebration, but was instead thought of as a curse, especially in the Souza household. What, exactly, occurred on this horrible date? The birth of the second child, Gage. What kind of name is Gage? While the mother has a name like Genevieve, a husband named Dylan and a beautiful daughter called Brittney, this child was given a name that literally popped out of nowhere. Gage.

Now, Gage lived in a beautiful home. It wasn’t too small, but it wasn’t so large that it felt empty. In fact, it felt perfect. Before Gage. After the newborn, the house seemed loud, uncomfortable. It was crowded and the atmosphere felt thick with tension and heat. Clearly, however, the somewhat-recent couple loved their three-year-old daughter more than their newborn son. That didn’t show until grade school… Still, at the ripe ages of two and five, the Souza children were both, clearly, gifted. Genevieve and Dylan just didn’t know yet.

By the age of seven, Brittney was already in a classroom for third-graders, rather than second-graders. Brittney was smart, cute, funny, and athletic. She just couldn’t draw, but to Dylan and Genevieve, that didn’t matter. Their daughter was already perfect in their eyes. At the age of four, while Brittney had showed signs of academic knowledge, Gage did not. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Souza did not like that one bit. I even believe that they slightly resented the poor child. However, Gage didn’t care. He was still a happy young boy. He pretended to be a car and gave a little prrrrrump… prrrrrrr… He pretended to be popping balloons and a few annoying pop… pop…’s emerged from the boy’s mouth.

Fast forwarding to fourth grade, Dylan and Genevieve still didn’t see any sign of giftedness in their son. However, they hadn’t put an instrument in his hand. While Brittney was breaking school records and tackling her studies with ease, Gage struggled along, hoping that he would get a break. His “doting” parents always made him look at his sister’s accomplishments. She was perfect. You know, when he was really hurting, Gage would go into his closet, get out a few old toys and tsssst…. poom... prrr-umt-tumt… hissed from his throat.

Middle School? Oh, that was hell. Yet… It was heaven’s greatest gift as well. I could almost laugh at the irony. Almost. To the Souzas, it was clear that Gage was CLEARLY not gifted in any way whatsoever. (yeah, right) Still, Brittney was perfect. Gage was always getting his sisters’ old grades shoved in his face. The sneers from other relatives were nearly unbearable. “How could such a lowly child be the spawn of such lovely parents?” Grandparents would ask. He was just… not into the whole academic field. Or the athletic field, literally. In these three years, he met two different people. One was Jacob Hansen. First class rebel. At the age of eleven, Gage took his first sip of beer. He was hooked. The taste, the texture, the way it made his head twist and his stomach float. Wait… no, his head float and his stomach twist… riiiiight. Give a kid beer and take him to a party and BAM! You’ve got an alcoholic. Well, not really, but he became one after a few years. Anyway, half way through seventh-grade, the band teacher came up to him. He placed a guitar in Gage’s hands and said two words. “Play it.” Gage had never touched a stringed instrument in his life, and this random freak expected him to play an electric guitar? Sure.
So he strummed a few random notes, figured out a chord or two and by ear, he had nearly learned “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” For a twelve-year-old, that’s a major accomplishment. In fact, he was VERY gifted in the arts, specifically ... music. Sadly, the boy was still taking a few bottles of beer out of the fridge every few nights. The only place he could play was the band room and the only place he could drink was his room. Along with some drunken mumbles, there would be a few slurred booooom, boom, chhhhhhhh…’s.

High School. Brittney was taking all AP courses as a Senior. Even as a Freshman, she had taken one AP course. Here was poor Gage, drunk half the time, struggling with honors classes and hooked on alcohol and music. I guess you could call him a train wreck. No duh, a teacher figured out the puzzle and put two and two together. Which teacher? You guessed right! That band geek… I mean professor… The band teacher calmly took Gage by the shoulder and guided him to his car. God, can you say stalker? I mean really! Middle School, AND High School? Creepy! After locking the doors, it was off to rehab. Well, kind of. More like to the hospital, then rehab. Anyway, after his parents found out, Gage… was, erm… well… Let’s just say he wasn’t considered a “true” Souza anymore. (not like he was in the first place, this was just more official) With the help of this older band dude, who Gage still didn’t really know, he was clean and swore on his life never to touch the stuff again. What grade was it, now? Oh, right! Junior year! Well… crap. Completely behind on his studies, I guess an easy to say this is: Gage worked his ass off with only AP courses. However, he didn’t go to college. He met some guys from this band, “Mess of Me,” and guess who needed a guitar player.

Of course, in the end, it paid off. Oh, and you know that band teacher? He resigned. Hm… strange, isn’t it? It’s too bad that Gage never got to thank him. But it’s because of him that Gage was able to learn, grow and become responsible. Oh, and all of that prrumping and boom-tssst-boom’s... Yeah, he can beat box like a beast.

rp quote:

It was a strange feeling, being drunk. I guess you could say he had been a virgin to liquor. He loved the way the alcohol burned down his throat. He craved the way that his head and body felt when he was wasted, it was like being free. He cherished the feeling that he got in his stomach when he was drunk. It was so new. He was addicted to the feeling that ignited in his veins. Adrenaline was what kept him drinking. That's what kept the shots coming. And they weren't little fruity drinks either. No, that's for the girls or the pussies. So what if he was only eleven? Who cared. Somebody else gave him the drinks. So what?

After the first few sips, you felt wide awake. Then a few more, and you felt more alert. After the bottle or the cup or whatever, it was like you were invincible. Nothing could hurt you. Any more than that, and it got hazy. It's hard to describe. It's a feeling of being free, away from any troubles or problems that arose. In the eyes of liquor, you were perfect.

He had given up everything to be perfect, his life, his power, his enjoyment. He just wanted to be somewhere NEAR good in their eyes. He wanted to be somewhere NEAR fine in their eyes. he wanted to be somewhere NEAR not bad in his family's eyes. But he couldn't. No matter what he tried, they always gave him the same look as ever. That one that says, "What a crappy kid. He sure must do well, I'm SO glad he's not MY kid!" And you know what? It kind of hurts. Somewhere deep in your heat, you get a little pang with every look and another one with every word you hear, because you know that they're talking about you. You're just not good enough. Not now, not ever.

Perfection is so far away, but with a few sips of straight vodka or a bottle of beer, perfection seems to get a little closer. Just a little bit, maybe a few inches or so, but still. It gets a bit closer, a bit more near to the grasping hand.

Then, there's the hangovers. Rather frankly, they suck. They pound on his head, they claw at his skin and the scream in his ears. They flash bright lights into his eyes and make his tongue feel funny. It's not pleasant. here are two ways to get rid of this feeling. Sleep it off or drink a little bit more. And more. And more. and more... and mor... and mo... and m... and ... and... an... a... Until there's nothing left, but feelings, sorrow and an empty bottle.

I DONT WANNA KNOW ABOUT EVIL

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i only wanna know about love[/color][/center]

name/alias: Oh, who knew that thomas Sawyer was a little girl?
age: Erm.... perhaps around... fourteen. Fourteen and a half...
experience: Not very many, I'm afraid. Only about one and a half or so.
password: admin edit.

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this was made by heather. lyrics came from tons of bands, so yeah. dont steal or she will send boo the ghost to eat your face and your mothers face.