Post by Jo Erikson on Sept 25, 2011 16:24:48 GMT -5
[/font]JoJulietErikson!?
[/center]Hey! I go by aliasname. I am 14 and I'm loving it. I have been roleplaying for a year or so and I don't plan on stopping any time soon. I have Silvia Davis on this site and I think they're pretty amazing! If you want to contact me you can by email.
Name: Jo Juliet Erikson
Nickname: Jo
Age: fifteen
Gender: female
Sexuality: straight
Playby: taylor momsen
Member Group: A regular junior
Appearance: Jo is never one to be judged by appearance. Her silvery blonde hair is cut in a choppy professional way that could only be pulled off with the almost non-existent blue highlights that bring out her skin tone. She has stormy blue eyes that are usually rimmed with eyeliner and silver eye shadow. This appearance usually gives off the impression that she is fun, done a lot, and confident. Even her dressing style helps nudge you towards such a conclusion, her black skinny jeans and converses looking old and worn. Maybe at a glance you would think she would be another girl who will most likely screw her life, or one that will tear you down to get what she wants. Either way, you can’t judge a book by its cover.
Personality: Jo is probably she strangest person you can find. For starters, she hates French Fries, Ketchup, and most fried food. Secondly she likes things strange. Normally she would be the one to laugh during awkward moments and try to converse. But it’s not like she is any good at it, she is naturally very social, but also hard to understand. She for some strange reason doesn’t like it when she gets her way, and in fact will fight you to get her way, then scold you for giving in. She is courageous and honestly couldn’t give shit if you hated her. She might even like you for hating her, another one of her strange traits. Jo is not shy, but she won’t go bouncing over to you like a high five year old. She expects to be approached, but will approach none the less. Loneliness never being her ally. Jo changes her mind about everything in an impossibly quick rate, one second you might be her best friend, the next she would decide that you were too nice or too plain and would avoid you. She is also one to keep calm while everybody else is stressed. Honestly, Jo is rarely stressed, but very often annoyed. Jo doesn’t like hating things, which may be the reason she doesn’t get mad at people very easily and rarely reacts to things violently, but she also enjoys scolding people. Jo is one to hold long term grudges, but if she does hold a grudge against you, I can insure you it’s for a good reason. The problem with Jo though, this problem not including the countless other problems, is that her emotions and personality traits tend to cancel each other out, leaving behind a mess of a girl. She may be compassionate, but she is also merciless. She may be clever, but she is also lazy. She may be ambitious, but she isn’t creative, nor very organized. Jo is athletic, and doesn’t seem to have the ability to keep track of time. Yet she manages with a great sense of direction, logic, and understanding. Never the less she is also closed minded and would most likely not listen to you if she isn’t in the mood for it. Yes mood, Jo reacts to everything based on her mood. If she was feeling calm that day you may be spared from her never ending jabber of nonsense, but if she was feeling a bit nervous you may not be so fortunate.
Likes: Being with people, volunteering, partying, strange things, the color red, converses, exotic things, any fruit except grapefruit and oranges, movies, hot tea, stories, fantasies, etc…
Dislikes: French fries, ketchup, most ‘American’ foods (including hamburgers, hotdogs, pizza, corndogs, etc…), huge jackets, bipolar people, stuck-up people, rich snobs, triangles, turned on ceiling fans, barking dogs, annoyingly loud noises, Country music, Rap music, windy days, etc…
Mother: Michelle Erikson, 36, Financial Lawyer/Part time Author of a small book series.
Father: Kyle Erikson, 38, Surgeon
Siblings: …not known of…
Pets: Ridley,female labradoodle, owned for 3 years.
History: Jo never had it rough. At least she never remembered having it rough. See Jo was dumped in a orphanage in Germany when she was a baby, and within months adopted by the Eriksons. Jo, being a small child of at most 1 had no memory of her mother, who as far as she was concerned dropped off the face of the Earth. Despite the dream that most orphans have of meeting their biological parents, Jo wants to avoid them. What reason does she have to go meet the people who abandoned her? She was perfectly happy with her current mother and father. Who spoiled her with stuff. The couple never had kids of their own since Michelle doesn’t want to go through all the stress of labor. So the couple adopted a baby girl that looked somewhat like them, with blonde hair and blueish gray eyes. Surely they could raise a beautiful girl without having to actually go through the motions. This process worked out perfectly fine, Jo was told she was adopted and handled in fairly well. The memory of the day is still fresh in Dr.Erikson’s mind as he recalled his amusing child eaiting Oreos one day as she asked how the stork knew where to take babies. The question was a bit strange for the doctor who didn’t recall telling the small child of a stork. Michelle knowing it would be best to tell the girl she was adopted while she was perfectly calm decided to speak then. Jo just making a small ‘uhm’ sound as she bit into another milk soaked Oreo. Her gray eyes narrowing slightly. Sniffling a bit she wondered why people would give up their child, but the thought didn’t linger. If these people didn’t want her, why should she want them? At least here she was peacefully snacking on Oreos. Dr.Erikson was prepared for a negative reaction and seeing the small five-year-olds serious face made him laugh. The girl had always been a loveable strange, and this was just another proof of it.
Jo’s adoptive family where wealthy. Both her mother and father worked full time jobs making a great sum of money a week. And the couples ability to multi-task also gave the family a lot of free time, which was at first spent traveling or writing a small series. But as Dr.Erikson’s fame grew so did Mrs. Erikson’s the two soon started buying lavish clothing, and spoiling their daughter with a unnecessary amount of things, attending cocktail parties, and getting invites to nearly every large get together. Not that Jo minded, she enjoyed having her hair professionally designed to fit her face and having stylist fix her every other week so that she always looked somewhat stunning. But that didn’t mean Jo was going to strut around in high heels and expensive clothing, she preferred worn out converses and skinny jeans, which strangely gave a more ‘down to Earth’ look as her favorite stylist Hayden described it.
Jo always grew up in Private schools, which was great, except Jo was always a bit on the daring side. Usually the girl who climbs the roof during a school field trip and runs to a different location, or maybe the girl who goes and glues a kid to his/her seat just to see their reaction. Such conclusions could be drawn by her ever present mischievous glow and angelic smile. Jo, of course never did anything wildly bad, the worse thing probably sipping her mother’s whiskey and making a face, but she never did anything else. She was always the angel in disguise. The one that once you meet doesn’t seem as angelic as she did when you first started talking. Strangely Jo was innocent, but hard core. Unafraid to do things, or at least she didn’t demonstrate it when she took a nice road trip in the middle of a field trip in Manhattan to Times Square, the girl overly curious.
Code Word: -edited out by mod-
Roleplay Post
Practice makes perfect. Is that not what they all say? You practice and work your butt off to get someone else’s perfect, but do you ever get your own? these words were elegantly placed on Lyssia’s violet journal. The gold ink blending smoothly with the cream pages, the book was worth more than necessary, but it was a gift from her parents. Smiling she placed the gold pen in the book, the crystal’s shimmering in the sunlight of the bright morning. Sunday, was in fact, a lazy day for her. She had nothing to do, and if she had things to do, she didn’t have the willingness to do them. Smiling she let the expensive journal sit on the bare grass, her green eyes clear and relaxed as she picked up the nearby soccer ball.
Walking onto the field her blonde ponytail swung from side to side the a clock’s bell. Her mind whirling with the imagination within, There she is Berlitz guarding the goal. Up comes Bauer, she shoots, and Berlitz blocks! the German girl laughed lightly at that. Her sounds barely audible in the soft carefree air, the day was a bit silent. Not many people were out, a jogger, a rushed adult, maybe even a couple. But it was too early to see the normal field traffic. Which was a relief since Lyssia didn’t enjoy being watched when she fell on her butt, that was if she fell at all. But there was always a chance at falling and embarrassing yourself in front of these strangers, and Lyssia wasn’t one to take chances.
Letting the ball slip out of her hands she watched it hit the cool, cut, green grass. A smile slightly faded on her face she she kicked it down field. Lyssia loved soccer, like just about every European, and she played the sport. Well for a girl, but she was goalie, therefore not really considered the best player. But she didn’t mind, you can’t be good at everything, not like she was, a fail at music, too shy to be class president, bashful to dance at discos, what did she have other than poetry and literature? In her green eyes nothing, she didn’t have the hardship everyone else had to push them forward, she didn’t have the power that the others had to make themselves known. Lyssia was simply a ordinary girl with a extraordinary skill with poetry, not that anyone cared much for it. When was the last time you saw the face of a famous poet on a newspaper or magazine? Do you see the paparazzi chasing them around? No. You don’t here small girl screaming the names of famous poets nor wearing their faces to school. Poets were simply never noticed, not that Lyssia minded. What would life be like always noticed? Would she actually enjoy having her face plastered on some kid’s Monday outfit of schoolbag, surely not, the thought at a normal time sent a shiver down her spine. She preferred not being everywhere at once, but since she was on the soccer field her mind was at peace. Every thought was on the ball ahead of her as she continued her paced run. Never missing a step as she ran down the field towards the large white net, Lyssia, in her own mind was nothing to notice.
Maybe she was more self-conscious and saw the mistakes in herself that others didn’t, or maybe she couldn’t see herself at all. Either way Lyssie was never proud of herself, but she was proud of others. She was proud of her genius father and sister, both in the field of Microbiology, she was proud of her brilliant mother, and her smart brother. Lyssie was proud of the kid next door who could run a mile without feeling breathless and she was proud of the baby down the block who never cried, but Lyssie was never, and this is a emphasis on never, proud of herself. The reasoning behind this was never certain, her mother believes it’s because her nature is kind, her father believes Lyssie just doesn’t feel ready to live up to expectations, but nobody is ever certain why this brilliant girl never sees herself brilliant. Not that many people know she doesn’t see herself in such a way, she tends to act so normal it’s hard to believe she could ever find more than a million things wrong with herself, but she does, and she always will. Dribbling down the field the girl got so wrapped up in her own thoughts she began tumbling. Her hand breaking her fall with a painful halt, and the ball continued to roll away. Blushing with embarrassment she hoped no one saw that. See this is the reason I don’t practice with others… she thought half angry half amused.
Walking onto the field her blonde ponytail swung from side to side the a clock’s bell. Her mind whirling with the imagination within, There she is Berlitz guarding the goal. Up comes Bauer, she shoots, and Berlitz blocks! the German girl laughed lightly at that. Her sounds barely audible in the soft carefree air, the day was a bit silent. Not many people were out, a jogger, a rushed adult, maybe even a couple. But it was too early to see the normal field traffic. Which was a relief since Lyssia didn’t enjoy being watched when she fell on her butt, that was if she fell at all. But there was always a chance at falling and embarrassing yourself in front of these strangers, and Lyssia wasn’t one to take chances.
Letting the ball slip out of her hands she watched it hit the cool, cut, green grass. A smile slightly faded on her face she she kicked it down field. Lyssia loved soccer, like just about every European, and she played the sport. Well for a girl, but she was goalie, therefore not really considered the best player. But she didn’t mind, you can’t be good at everything, not like she was, a fail at music, too shy to be class president, bashful to dance at discos, what did she have other than poetry and literature? In her green eyes nothing, she didn’t have the hardship everyone else had to push them forward, she didn’t have the power that the others had to make themselves known. Lyssia was simply a ordinary girl with a extraordinary skill with poetry, not that anyone cared much for it. When was the last time you saw the face of a famous poet on a newspaper or magazine? Do you see the paparazzi chasing them around? No. You don’t here small girl screaming the names of famous poets nor wearing their faces to school. Poets were simply never noticed, not that Lyssia minded. What would life be like always noticed? Would she actually enjoy having her face plastered on some kid’s Monday outfit of schoolbag, surely not, the thought at a normal time sent a shiver down her spine. She preferred not being everywhere at once, but since she was on the soccer field her mind was at peace. Every thought was on the ball ahead of her as she continued her paced run. Never missing a step as she ran down the field towards the large white net, Lyssia, in her own mind was nothing to notice.
Maybe she was more self-conscious and saw the mistakes in herself that others didn’t, or maybe she couldn’t see herself at all. Either way Lyssie was never proud of herself, but she was proud of others. She was proud of her genius father and sister, both in the field of Microbiology, she was proud of her brilliant mother, and her smart brother. Lyssie was proud of the kid next door who could run a mile without feeling breathless and she was proud of the baby down the block who never cried, but Lyssie was never, and this is a emphasis on never, proud of herself. The reasoning behind this was never certain, her mother believes it’s because her nature is kind, her father believes Lyssie just doesn’t feel ready to live up to expectations, but nobody is ever certain why this brilliant girl never sees herself brilliant. Not that many people know she doesn’t see herself in such a way, she tends to act so normal it’s hard to believe she could ever find more than a million things wrong with herself, but she does, and she always will. Dribbling down the field the girl got so wrapped up in her own thoughts she began tumbling. Her hand breaking her fall with a painful halt, and the ball continued to roll away. Blushing with embarrassment she hoped no one saw that. See this is the reason I don’t practice with others… she thought half angry half amused.
