Post by alec madi on Feb 17, 2008 20:57:48 GMT -5
Alec Madi
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{ `cause nothing changes who i am.
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name, Alec Seth Madi
age, Twenty-two
sexuality, Straight
orientation, White
job on the ship, Singer; take it easy
are they good at their job? how?, Yes, he is. Alec has had a record deal since he was fourteen, and has produced five albums. He has been touring for eight years, so he is no novice to playing in front of crowds. His once-shaky singing voice has improved dramatically, and he has exceptional talent when it comes to guitar playing.
cabin, He hasn't the time or energy to try and personalize his cabin. It is slightly messy, as clothes tend to get dropped haphazardly on the floor and the desk is covered in music sheets and papers. His various guitars are usually carefully placed in their cases, and they are really the only thing that screams Alec in the room.
{ that`s how we roll.
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family,
- Kiki Madi - a tall, graceful woman with dyed red hair and kind hazel eyes that can twinkle in the right light. She's cheery and a house wife, taking care of laundry and cooking and such.
- Joe Madi - short and skinny with a head full of blonde hair and soft hazel eyes. He works all day but is always home by six.
- Bonnie Madi - Thirteen-year-old with a bright smile and bright, wide blue eyes. Her hair is blonde and falls in ringlets around her face. She loves Alec, yet she annoys him. Twin of Lilac Madi.
- Lilac Madi - Thirteen-year-old with a bright smile and bright, wide blue eyes. Her hair is blonde and falls in ringlets around her face. She loves Alec, and yet she annoys him. Twin to Bonnie Madi.
family photos,
{ life`s like a novel with the end ripped out.
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history, Once upon a time, he was a completely unhappy, completely solitary kid with no friends and only his guitar to keep him company. At the age of eight he picked up the stringed insturment and began to play the harmony to the song that was playing on the radio at the time. Astonished, his parents looked up from their different activities and rushed him off to a guitar lesson, certain that he had a talent. The teacher was just as surprised, for the little boy with the long dark hair and hazel eyes seemed to already know where to place his fingers, how to strum and run his fingertips through the frets. With a little coaching, he quickly played himself through four beginner songs, knowing them all by heart after the hour lesson ended and his parents came to pick him up. The rest was history: he continued the lessons, and soon reached the level of difficult songs that only the people who had been playing for months and months had reached. The teacher was baffled and amazed - he had never seen such a young talent. The years passed by and as Alec grew, so did his love for the guitar and his ability to play it.
But though his guitar life prospered, his social life fell. It was soon clear in middle school that he was an outcast - no one seemed to have time for him, much less the popular kids. He was shy, and for that reason didn't make any friends. He ended up eating alone during lunch, the only boy without a friend. He didn't talk to anybody an they didn't bother to talk to him. Soon enough he walked through the halls unnoticed, seemingly forgotten by the student body. He didn't raise his hand in class and the teachers were always forgetting his name, always surprised to see him sitting in their class, as if he was a new student that had joined the day before. While the other kids had best buddies and did sports and hung out with their friends, he sat at home alone and pulled the shades shut, not wanting to listen to their jovial cries on the afternoon air. To drown out the noise, he would play his guitar for hours straight until his fingers were ready to fall off, exhausted from the constant plucking. He soon took up writing and constructed his own songs, which spoke of his sadness and lonliness. His parents were rapidly becoming concerned, and they many-a-time tried to get him to go out and find people his own age. He always refused and locked himself away in his room, where they could hear the chords late into the night.
When he was fourteen, he found a new way to find peace. He took up smoking pot in his room, stuffing a towel under the door to hide any unsatisfactory smells from penetrating the rest of the house. He would sit on his bed for hours and rock back and forth, the guitar always poised in his hands, the long fingers always tapping out a tune. Although he was horribly depressed, although he was lonely, in those long nights he found happiness, costing him only a mere ten bucks. But as the months wore on and he asked more and more for money, his parents became suspicious, for Alec had never desired the green paper before. They raided his room eventually, coming up with a single baggy filled with smelly green leaves and a pipe filled with ash. Furious, crying, they told him he was being sent to rehab where he would stay for a few days, to sort out "your little problem" as his father said. Horrified, but having no choice, he packed up his guitar and went.
There were no windows and the inhabits were forced to wear plain white dressing gowns, where they were locked up in their rooms or sent to sit in the game room, where a TV always blared some kind of airplane worthy movie. It was horrible, and as he waited out his stay he lost himself in his guitar, always refusing politely to leave his room. One day, while passing his door, a nurse heard him playing and was brought to tears by the beautifulness of it. She told her husband, who owned a small record company, about him and he arranged for them to meet when his rehab time was over. It ended and he happily went home, glad to be back in his own room and bed and house. The day later the nurse's husband knocked on the door, asking to speak with Alec and his parents. They talked for a long time, got a lawyer to look over the contract that he had produced, and finally struck a deal. Alec was finally about to be paid for what he loved to do: he was going to be a professional musician with a record deal.
Since it was a small place, his first album went quite unknown but by the second the word had spread and they started to sell. Although he wasn't a radio hit, the underground music scene had begun to love him. He was making money, and soon enough he went on his first tour. It wasn't a big thing, just the equipment set up in small community centers and the tickets costing only eight dollars at the door. But still, he had to face his worse fear: socializing. The first date he was terrified. There were only about fifty people crammed into the room, but his hands were shaking so bad he was doubtful he could play, which of course only made him more nervous. And yet, when he stepped up to the mike a roar went up in that little crowd, and a sound like an explosion sounded. He almost jumped back before he realized it was simply people clapping. People clapping for him. They actually liked his music, and they were happy he was there. Alec was astonished, and he proceeded to play the best he ever had, encouraged by fifty screaming throats, who shouted his lyrics and danced around excitedly. This changed the shy, lonely fourteen-year-old boy with no friends: he suddenly felt accepted. And from there, he was able to reconstruct his social life, no longer becoming an outcast but the cute kid with the kind smile and a few good friends. Oh, and of course a record deal.
As he turned fifteen, the CDs were selling better than ever, and the shows were much the same, though he had begun to enjoy himself much more. During this time was when the pressure of lust and love had really begun to take its toll on him, and many times he would be seen talking backstage to a couple of girls who absolutely adored him. The random hook ups were plentiful here, and though it was widely known throughout the tour what he was doing, the guys in the opening bands simply encouraged him, laughing about it. Others disapproved, but they simply shook their heads, not wishing to start a fight that might send the boy over the edge. As these acts persisted, it was clear that Alec had begun slacking in his playing, so it was decided among all someone needed to have a talk with him. But just as they were preparing to do so, salvation came to him quite suddenly.
Though he would never tell anyone, he had lost his virginity in the heat of passion, to someone much older than him. This took a great toll on him and he suddenly looked at the flirting girls with disgust, not wanting their dirty bodies strewn across his. His playing improved dramatically and he was actually partying with the guys instead of locked in a room with a girl, which confused many. They knew better to keep their mouths shut about it, however, and the whole world found out soon enough anyway, through a song he had written, singing about how the woman had called him a little kid and walked away. He held his head up high when he sang it, a furious glint in his hazel eyes, and everyone started to laugh, though there wasn't anything remotely funny about the situation.
And so fifteen turned in to sixteen, and he found himself aboard a long cruise, expected to play quite a few times in various different resturants along the bow. It was here that he met the girl and found his first taste of love. Her name was April, and her face was beautiful, her eyes always twinkling, her personality being just as attractive. He knew from the start that she was engaged and pregnant, though she was the same age as him. She was ridiculously in love, and Alec resented it. He wanted her so bad that he had never felt any emotion so powerful in his life. It was different from lust, it was different from loving his family. It blinded him and caused him to do something that would just end up as an embarrassment, though he never regretted it.
He invited her to one of his shows, which was to take place at a fancy restaurant. Though she had no idea, he had composed a song about her, and he entered the stage, seeing her twinkling eyes just below him. "This is for you, April," He had said, and continued to play the song. At the end her face had betrayed shock and anger, and they had gotten in to a horrid fight, as well as almost getting beat up by April’s fiancée. His heart was broken, and the pain he felt he thought would surely kill him. But he loved her enough to accept her choice and tried to keep touch with her after the cruise ended, though eventually they stopped talking. The pain had disappeared and now he only felt a dull pang when thinking about her, which had begun to fade, too. Despite this, however, many talked about how he had never been the same, and his outlook on life had darkened considerably.
He had decided to move and he obtained his own apartment, for he was hoping that the memory of April would completely fade if he got a change of scenery. However, while out one night he saw her – changed, sad, but still his beautiful April. And such a feeling of love rose up in him that he knew he had never gotten over her, he had just been fooling himself that he had. And she came with the news that her babies had died and her fiancée had left. Although these facts should have made him feel bad for her, he couldn’t seem to get the glee out of his eyes. He finally had a chance with her.
A few weeks later he had been feeling slightly down and hoping to up his mood, he went to her dorm, and entered without knocking, figuring that since the door was open it was okay to intrude. He was wrong. Sprawled upon her bed was April and her new boyfriend, a burly boy named Damon who looked almost exactly like her ex, Jacob. Alec felt as though his heart had simply died; he couldn’t recall ever feeling such agony. In a raging storm he ran up to the pair and pulled April to the ground, the result being that she began to cry and Damon kicked his ass for his foolishness.
It seemed that Alec’s depression would finally break him down. He wrote a song and sent the lyrics to April, and although she didn’t realize it the lyrics were actually a suicide note. He positioned himself comfortably on her floor with his guitar and downed a bottle of little pills, waiting for death to come and take him away.
He woke up in a hospital bed, groggy and confused. April had found him before he was too far gone, and the doctors had pumped his stomach, saving his life. Although at first he felt resentment, considering he had wanted very much to die, he began to see the beauty of the world and his love for April diminished dramatically. He was finally getting over her, and his depression seemed to lessen considerably. Life seemed to be getting better for him.
And for awhile, things seemed to be great – his career was finally taking off, and his music was getting more publicity then ever. He began to receive fans from all around, and the tours became more demanding, more time consuming. He didn’t mind, however; he was doing the one thing that he loved to do. And so he obliged and met these standards, happily producing more music and growing more into himself as he did so. He felt that he was finally leaving behind his boyish attitude and really turning into an adult.
These realizations should have brought more responsibility, but not for a twenty-something folk singer. He was free to do whatever he pleased, as long as he kept writing the songs that were bringing the record company so much money. As long as he still played for audiences like he always had, what did they care if he indulged in drugs and alcohol a bit too much? It wasn’t their job to interfere with his life. But as he grew older, he grew bitterer, more resentful towards the world and more of a substance abuser. He wanted to stop questioning things, but he couldn’t seem to get it in his head that some things were best left alone.
{ you want a piece of me?
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appearance, Two years ago, his hazel eyes were darkened from hidden secrets and depression - and although those have never quite completely left them, they are a considerable shade lighter. Perfectly shaped, they sit below his eyelashes which are full and thick in a slightly feminish way, but it suits him and balances out his defined face. Below his optics is a nose that isn't too big nor too small, and underneath that are his lips, which instead of full and red, are thin and a soft pink. One could call them "cocaine" lips, and although he is constantly applying chapstick they still end up being cracked and peeling. When he's happy, they pull up into a kind-of half smile, which turns into a full one after a moment or two. He never did get the hang of the smiling thing. But, when he was fourteen, it would have been forced and painful, while it comes natural and easy now. His hair is thick and dark, and cut with the bang pushed to the side of his face, trailing down just below his eyes but miraciously, thanks to good stylists, remains out of them most of the time.
His skin is a normal color - not too pale, not too tan, no matter how many hours he spends inside or out in the sun. He never burns, he never turns red when embarrassed - his skin stays stubbornly the same, but it doesn't bother him. It stays clean usually, and not many blemishes are on his face, only popping up from time to time. His arms aren't as thin and unmuscled as they used to be. When he flexes they push out, showing that he has indeed, worked out a little bit. His six-pack is lightly defined on his flat stomach and his legs aren't exactly sticks. His height now reaches about 5'6, still a little on the short side. His feet are proportioned well to his body and no longer look awkward as they once had, but the curiosity of his hands still hasn't changed. Upon the end of each are five fingers, unnaturally long, and have been mistaken for spiders legs quite a few times before. Though he never complains: this is the secret to why he excels so much in his art.
His closet is full of dark skinny jeans, all of them not too tight but still fitting to his slender frame and attractively hugging his legs and his butt. His shirts range from regular logo tees to long sleeved button ups, all variety of colors spread in his drawers like some clothing rainbow. He is rather fond of sweaters, and likes dark blue ones the best, so accordingly he has many of those. He loves hoodies, and for that reason has about twenty different ones: black zip ups, blue and black striped, purple and plain, you name it, he probably has it. Even in the heat of summer, one will rarely see him without one of his beloved sweatshirts, the hood never pulled up but hanging limply against his back. He is less fond of shoes, and it shows, for he only owns one pair. Black converse hightops are always seen clad upon his feet, and although they are worn down, not yet ripped and dirty.
picture,
celebrity, Conor Oberst
{ i am unwritten, can't read my mind, i'm undefined.
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personality, To explain Alec's personality, one would have to start with, what he believes, is the essence of his soul. Music. Aided by his unnaturally long fingers, at the age of eight he began taking guitar lessons and immediately excelled at it, gaining the approval from his guitar teacher and his parents, who were thrilled their son had such an amazing talent. But the thing that made him would eventually break him, for he spent all of his time practicing, loving the sound of the chords and loving the feel of the strings under his fingers. He quickly became an outcast and no one even seemed to notice him anymore. He was too shy to approach anybody, and he became the only kid in the eighth grade not to have any friends. This made him retreat inside of himself and he became deppressed, lonely, and he smoked pot every night to escape his own horribly reality. But once he played his first live show, a change came over him, and a huge personality shift occurred.
He was always shy and still is, though much less now then he used to be. He's quiet and not always too talkative, but that doesn't mean hes not thinking of anything - there's always a scatter of ideas playing out in his mind, usually not having any sense of order but making perfect sense to him. The only time he really ever is truly happy is when the guitar is in his hands and the music is flowing out of his fingertips and into the instrument, causing it to produce the beautiful music that had touched people everywhere. He's an incredible writer and lyricist, and accordingly is extremely smart. He can talk about anything from the cells on a leaf to politics to disease, which makes conversation easy to start up with him. He is much older beyond his years and has often been told so. Though when he was younger in his teens he used to believe in crazy concepts such as the Lockness monster, he has grown up much since then and now just shakes his head at those silly ideas.
For a while during his sixteen to late seventeen years he gave up his use of drugs, but has begun to use them again. The tour could be blamed on this, for there are many parties to attend and much booze, plus illegal things that go on. He has picked up his old habits of smoking cigerattes and weed again, though he doesn't really do anything worse beyond that. One thing that has persisted through his life is his love of coffee, and often can be seen at a Starbucks or a Dunkin' Donoughts early in the morning before heading off to various activities.
Being a professional musician and an attractive one at that, he's had multiple experiences with girls and even lost his virginity to one, and though that used to bother him greatly he has accepted it and moved on without looking back. Sometimes he has been known to slip up and hook up with a random girl who absolutely adores him and his music, but it is not a nightly thing. He had a taste of love once, and it hadn't ended well, and he has always been slightly bitter about it.
{ i`m trying to let you hear me as i am.
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your name, Bella
experience, Probably about... three years?
example, He jumped out of his car and very nearly slipped on the thin layer of ice that unseeingly coated the black pavement of the parking lot. Someone near him snickered at his obvious lack of grace, and perhaps his outfit choice, for in his haste he had thrown on a very old pair of jeans and an equally as battered, faded, green sweater; the two pieces of clothing were the host to many holes and rips. But their giggles did not bother him. He never usually cared about what young high school students had to say about him (except April) but today he noticed their laughter even less. He felt elated by the magazine that was clutched firmly in his hand, and it was as if a sun that refused to set had risen in his horizon. Maybe it was ridiculous to be so overjoyed by a couple of papers stapled together, but he didn't stop to think about from where his sudden good mood was coming from. Instead, he continued to pad into the building, and the kids that had been sblack personing at him seemed to have let him fade, unnoticed, into the background. They turned away from him as he skidded past them and up the stairs.
Upon approaching the door he had been seeking, he slowed down slightly, wondering if he should knock. Last time he had neglected to do that certain action it had landed him into quite a bad situation, for he had gotten the horrible sight of April on top of her new boyfriend, who Alec hadn't known about before. It didn't just break his heart, but it seemed to shatter it into a million little pieces, pieces much too small to try and put together. This had led to his failed suicide attempt, resulting in the fact that he was forced to stay in the hospital for a week, on what was called suicide watch. At first he had been resentful - he had wanted to die, after all - but eventually those thoughts died away, as did his love for April. Well, he still loved her, but not in a romantic way anymore. He thought of her as a friend, and in all honesty maybe somewhere deep down he still harbored a small crush for her, though it no longer was the full-fledged longing he had once had. Thank God.
And with those thoughts he threw open the door, not caring if she was having another make out session with Damon. He figured that if she hadn't learned to lock her door when doing private things, then it was her fault if he happened to see something she would rather him not to. However, he didn't even glance her way as he barged rudely into the room, waving around the magazine in a way that could be considered alarming, if it had not been for the grin that stretched the skin around his mouth tight. He plopped himself down suddenly in her desk chair, swiveling it around and riffling through the pages of the magazine. The front cover displayed a picture of Alec, wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and jeans, standing shyly on a bustling street and looking rather better groomed then he really is in person. "Listen to this: 'Alec Madi, despite his awkward appearance and questionable sweaters,' wait..." he stopped reading, as he hadn't been expecting a blow towards his apparently questionable sweaters. He shook his head, an obvious "whatever" expression marring his face, and read on: " 'puts on an excellent concert, and that's not counting the outrageously talented songs he has created. The warbling, emotion-filled vocals and the in-depth lyrics are the reasons that his hit single, Free, has skyrocketed to the top.' "
