Post by drew alistair covington on Aug 13, 2010 6:13:39 GMT -5
D R E W A L I S T A I R C O V I N G T O N
` [/COLOR]With the lights out it's a little less dangerous
Even with a stranger never gets painless
Don't be afraid (afraid, afraid)
Every time I think I'm gonna change it (think I'm gonna change it, think I'm gonna change it)
It's driving me (driving me) insane (insane)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Do you live, do you die, do you bleed
For the fantasy
In your mind, through your eyes, do you see
It's the fantasy
HEYA, MY NAME IS EMJ AND I'VE BEEN PARTYING
IT UP FOR TWENTY THREE YEARS. DON'T MESS WITH ME I'LL SCREW YOU UP,
BUT IF YOU WANT TO CHAT HIT ME UP AT PM ME.
I FOUND THIS AMAZING SITE FROM RANDOM CLICKING CAUSE IM AWESOME LIKE THAT?,
I PLAY A TOTAL OF ONE CHARACTER; DREW ALISTAIR COVINGTON.
[/center]* NAME, Drew Alistair Covington
* NICKNAMES, Drew, drae, dc
* GENDER, Male
* SEXUALITY, Straight
* AGE & BIRTHDAY, 20 ; June 28
* GRADE/OCCUPATION, Sophomore, Actor
* MEMBER GROUP, University Student
* FACE CLAIM, zac efron.
* PARENTS,
- Tyler Arthur Covington - Father
- Jennifer Baines - Mother
* SIBLINGS,
- Ezekial Aaron Covington - Older Brother
- Abigail Georgia Covington - Younger Sister
* OTHER, . Isabella Dewyn - Step Mother
* HOMETOWN, Los Angeles, California
* OVERALL HISTORY,
• Born Drew Alistair [ yes every male in the Covington family has an A middle name ] Covington. Was born in a private room in Los Angeles, California on the 28th of June to Hollywood Actors Tyler Covington and Jennifer Baines. Both of whom where a rather unlikely match but seemed happy, if not a marriage of convienience. Had one older brother who did not take to well to having a new baby brought into the house let alone another boy. Was followed shortly after by his Sister who was in the fateful words of his father ' a mistake '
• Growing up he never had to worry financially about anything was what you would call on the wealthier side of things was put into Private schools and while never had it laboured over him that he had to achieve certain grades it was a standard set by his father and older brother and was meant to be maintained something that Drew struggled but managed to do throughout his earlier schooling. Mother and Father both worked long hours on various film productions, his mother in Film and his father both acting and later in production. Despite his fathers occupation was not encouraged to entertain thoughts of being in the film industry or have anything to do with a career in media.
• Was sent for his high school years to a local Private school before being expelled for ' undisclosed reasons ' Thanks to his fathers humiliation at his sons failure, he was then sent to board at The Hotchkiss School just outside of New York to keep him far enough away from his father so he didnt have to see his face. This was much to the delight of his brother who got to have the house to himself as well as their fathers favour. Finished school just scraping in by the teeth due to adapting to a new way of life, partying and the lack of parental supervision making that all the easier.
• Recieved a distraught call from his sister the day after graduation as he was packing to come back home. His father had been cheating on his mother for the past four years and when his mother confronted him about it he made a large display of things took his things and left her for his mistress, a much younger woman who had at one stage been his mothers assistant lets face it in LA she was a struggling actress that saw his father as a way out and took it. Their mother had locked herself in her room for a week with a case of wine and then emerged as this bitch on heels that seemed completely unfeeling and uncaring a one track mind career focused, a different woman to the public and a very different one behind closed doors. A woman to recon with but hardly the mother they knew, something that Drew blames his father for completely.
• Was accepted to the University of California to studying Media and communications and drama, his life goals previously firmly set out by his father and himself in a mental state that he felt no option but to defy whatever his father had wanted of him and alter the plans going after the one thing he had been told not to, at that time he just didnt need the stability of being told what to do, when and where and how, never the why. So without telling his father a new occurance in his life that he relished he moved back from boarding school spending only a few months at his mothers home before moving on campus and begining his studies Majoring in Drama with a minor in Media and Communications despite not really knowing why he was studying it.
• Love of acting began when he was required to take an elective class to fullfill his course diversity and thanks to a rather attractive girl in the drama department took that direction. The love for her did not last, sadly, however what remained was a rather haunting need to get back to the stage, and back to acting something he had if he was being honest never really thought about before in his life. While his parents had been apart of that world he himself had never had much to do with it, he for all intensive purposes had always had a rather normal childhood and upbringing.
• Stuggled with his Media Degree for the following 5 to six months before deciding that he would change and switch his major to Drama. Instead of telling everyone that it was a chosen move, something his father and family would not have agreed on he let everyone believe that he had failed out of Media and that the only way to remain at University was to switch to a lesser highly ranked and scored structure system of Drama and to switch his Media course to a minor. Why? Because it was just easier than having to explain to people like his mother, and his father .... his brother, that whole side of the family that was easier to not talk to at all than to try and explain anything important to. He isnt looking for validation, to be honest he isnt sure what he is looking for.
• Father took the news not so favourably and attempted no less than four times to get him to transfer out to another school to take the year over and change to buisness or defer to a teaching position something that he had done and was more than happy at. But unfortunately Drews mind was set and after getting a taste for a dream and a direction that could be his own and no his fathers was unmovable on the subject. His father refused to talk to him for four months, only giving in at Christmas when the family was forced to meet again. Christmas dinner his angry brother, little sister, drunken mother, sarcastic father, floozy step mother and various hangers on. Kodak moments.
• Was in a minor car accident involving his sister himself and two of their mutual friends while home on break after a party. It was one of their friends driving and while not completely drunk he had been drinking, possibly one of Drews stupidest choices ever. Neither himself or his sister where majorly injured both taken to the hospital for minor scrapes and bruises, the other female passenger suffering a broken arm and needing 12 stitches in her head. But most of the damage was done when his father turned up and attempted to beat the shit out him when he was at the hospital giving him two broken ribs and a black eye. Drew hasnt spoken to his father since, refuses to take his calls as few as they are.
• Already knew LA rather well thanks to having to travel out for various auditions but living there is completely different, a new ball game where you feel like your in competition with everyone even when your just getting coffee. A place where everyone is smiling like they think Starbucks PR department are scouting for their new ad its insane. Has done the bartender, waiter by day actor on the side thing but found his home doing part time admin and assistant work for radio stations and pr companies for cash thanks to his mothers connections and his previously failed but still accredited degree in Media and commiunications.
• Is going through the motions now of audition after audition and while it is never the ultimate goal or easy he wouldnt really be anywhere else doing anything else. Is looking for not so much his next big break but something that is right for him, is looking for something that gets him remembered not famous. Oh and having fun on that search doesnt hurt.
* EYE COLOR, Blue
* HAIR COLOR, Sandy Brown
* WEIGHT, 156 pounds
* HEIGHT, 5' 10½" (1.79 m)
* TATTOOS & PIERCINGS, None
* DISTINGUISHING FEATURES, Piercing eyes and winning smile arent enough for you? A small scar below his waist from an accident, none others.
* SECRETS, Besides his highley disfunctional family that from the outside looks like a hallmark christmas card from stepford hell? Well lets see, you can take your pick, from telling people that he failed out of his University courses where he was majoring in Media when in truth he quit. Then there is the dependancy for sleeping pills that didnt seem to be as bad before he started acting, and yet is still deeply in denial about. There is also his general fear of small spaces and a history of high anxiety that has been treated ... for now he believes. Oh and before his step mother was his step mother, he slept with her ... i think thats all for now.
* DREAMS, Short term would be to get a steady job or money in the bank. For his father to take him seriously as an actor and for the film industry to follow. Large Goals for Drew would be to be financially set in a place where he doesnt have to worry, to get to work doing what he loves and pick and choose the films and shows he wants to do because of his passion for them, not his need to have a roof over his head. Settling down .... all of that domestic bliss life, just doesnt rate highley for him. That isnt to say it wouldnt change but at the moment its all about the dream.
* FEARS, Failing, Commitment and his father
* PERSONALITY,
` ROLE-PLAY EXAMPLE,
The scene, rushing past outside the window a million miles an hour, Darian breathed it in. It didn’t matter how many times he was here it would never grow old. That smell, the distinct aroma of birch trees, snapped twigs , broken leaves and afternoon sunlight through a canopied expanse. Slow breaths in, deep and, reluctant to let them out. That feeling that you could not describe to someone. A feeling perhaps unique to himself alone. The breeze snaked its way through the open window of his beat up Chevy truck, pushing aside his locks and brushing his face. This was how you unwound. This was Providence. This was home. The hand that had been resting on the window sill raised effortlessly and wound its way lightly, fingertips circling through the air. Deep almond eyes on the road he stifled a yawn and attempted to focus on the road before him. A low rumble of the truck as it passed one winding corner after another and back again made him appreciate his job. Fights and flaws of the previous day, the hours that had come before now even, all seemed to fade away so quickly when you where no longer in the moment. There was a history here for him that he couldn’t avoid, nor did he want to or attempt to. A creek passed his window on the right and he help the smirk that lifted in the lower corner of his lips. First kiss. Past another bend and a paddock to the left. Frst drunken party landing the driver in question, face first in that intoxicating grass. The memories of its scent a little different then. Lying on the outskirts of the town it was easy to forget. Forget what the town held.
Easy to be naive to the dividing lines that ran through it. Invisible lines of social acceptance and defiance. Perfect timing he thought numbly to himself. Pulling the car to a momentary halt just outside the iron gates of Pembrooke University. Just people right? All the same huh? Maybe when he was younger it was, too young to know any different. Now, however... it was different. Everything was different. His thoughts, once so lucid, calm and complacent where suddenly filled with a mild distain. It was wrong of him to judge them, as they did him. Wrong to lump them all into one cohesive "we verse them " as if they where all the same. Stupid because he knew more than a handful of them and knew they were not like that. Selfish because if he had been given the chance to go ... maybe he would have been weak to take it himself. But there was part of him that couldn’t help but see them as the enemy. Perhaps it was the inner townie within him. Or just purely him? Easing his foot of the break he rolled forward. Leaving his bad thoughts and the school behind him.
As the truck slipped through the neat and quaint streets , the faint sounds of death cab for cutie no sunlight playing mildly, his mood was changed yet again. Oh the joys of being a changeable soul. Perhaps it meant he was un-educated or poorly so. Maybe it was an indication of just how simple he was. More likely however of these outcomes, it would be one above the rest. The one that read on the back of his truck, just below the Chevy sticker behind his head. " Oh that’s right i don’t give a fuck "A need for entertainment for substance blazed through him. A feeling that hit him square in the eyes leaving a wake of frustration in its ambiguous path. It had no definite origin but then his feelings very rarely ever did. Spontaneous, that was what made them fun. At least that would be what he would tell himself because he was unable to control them like others. Unconsciously pulling his fingertips into his palm he cracked at his knuckles. Yet another bad habit that he was unsure of when it started but what did it really matter anyway. Either way, he was yet to be rid of it at 26 and doubted he would be by 30. Thankfully the afternoon traffic was almost extinct now, and whatever cars still roamed around the streets where easily moved around. Market square towered over him in no time as he pulled into one of the many vacant car spaces. Pausing to take in the last of he the song as its vivid beat slowly left the cab he let his hand fall landing atop his notebook.
Odd really. Sitting there, so completely out of place. Not that a notebook couldn’t or wouldn’t be there just odd if you knew him. He was a builder by trade, a bar-man by night and he was very male directly to his core. He was not the type you saw sitting on bended knee writing feverishly in the pages. Yet there it was. A collection of moments that came on out of nowhere thoughts he didn’t share but couldn’t keep. He should throw it out. Get rid of the evidence of someone other than who he appeared to be. Yet he still couldn’t. Frustrated he pulled the keys with agitation from the ignition, leaving the notebook resting aimlessly on the empty bench beside him, as if it was pointless, nothing of importance at all, he was moving. Out of the car and onto the street slamming the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He never did. While Providence's jails where very rarely empty it was far from those caught stealing used trucks and more the students trying to sell drugs to the preachers daughter that you worried about. That and if anyone chose to steal anything it would not be from his beat up car. It would not be his collection of Death Cab, Muse and Angus and Julia Stone, it would not be his notebook of no importance, it would not be the pine fresh hanging from the dashboard, it would not be his radio that only just played cd's if you put them in the right way. No one would steal his car. No one but an idiot, a smack head, or someone with a death wish. Everyone knew it was his car, and he meant everyone. For some it was as simple as, notification of him. For others it was a label that read " Hi my name is ... poor "
Abandoning his car by the wall, he climbed the littered steps of the bustling centre, walking past groups of high school and university students who were talking avidly, in their cliché groups. It was hard to miss that tingle of longing that broke out through his mind as he saw them. You never did believe people when they said enjoy high school while it lasts. What he would give to be 17 again. But alas the dividing lines where here on the steps too. The artistic souls who sat with cameras at the ready and clothes that probably wouldn’t be in fashion till next year when they where over them. The skaters to the outer left trying to master the steps while buoyantly pushing at each other and laughing. And before him where he was walking ascending the stairs ? The girls who dare not sit on the ground. With skirts and dresses that cost more than his much loved beat up truck. None of which would ever date him but thought nothing of a gentle ogle. What could he say? Attention despite who it was coming from was not something he could hate. It was a nice feeling while it lasted, however long that was. One foot in front of the other over the stone stairs littered with the giggling of young girls. Smirking lowly the right corner of his lip curving into a smile he drifted around them moving freely past the girls who refused to sit on the ground and toward the stores.
It was as empty as his house on game day. A few stragglers moved from one side of the market to the other shuffling their feet reluctantly underneath them but most of them with purpose. They had a destination or a means to one. He on the other hand seemed to be aimless as always. His father would tell him this was a pattern. An unavoidable one, to which he did not care much about. Girls pushed past him smiling and trying to grasp at his attention to which he simply smiled and ran a hand through tangled locks awkwardly. Running a hand over his stomach he selfishly admired the muscles he felt. Well if he wasn’t getting paid well for his work then he should at least get something out of it. As he took a second glance toward the girls passing him, a newly acquired coffee resting in his hands he guessed at their age. 19, if not maybe younger. He was always bad at this game. Flirting he could do. It was the rest that he was uncomfortably comfortable with. Sitting on the bench he wondered, back resting into the lacquered wood, thinking, when did he get so old? When did 26 become old. why despite his rather young age and appearance did he somehow feel slightly perverted looking at younger girls even if they where nineteen. Great. Now he was burning to prove his agility and ability despite age. Team that with the urge of entertainment and this day, this night was bound to get weird. Well fuck ..... how did he get here again? Where was fun when you needed it?
Easy to be naive to the dividing lines that ran through it. Invisible lines of social acceptance and defiance. Perfect timing he thought numbly to himself. Pulling the car to a momentary halt just outside the iron gates of Pembrooke University. Just people right? All the same huh? Maybe when he was younger it was, too young to know any different. Now, however... it was different. Everything was different. His thoughts, once so lucid, calm and complacent where suddenly filled with a mild distain. It was wrong of him to judge them, as they did him. Wrong to lump them all into one cohesive "we verse them " as if they where all the same. Stupid because he knew more than a handful of them and knew they were not like that. Selfish because if he had been given the chance to go ... maybe he would have been weak to take it himself. But there was part of him that couldn’t help but see them as the enemy. Perhaps it was the inner townie within him. Or just purely him? Easing his foot of the break he rolled forward. Leaving his bad thoughts and the school behind him.
As the truck slipped through the neat and quaint streets , the faint sounds of death cab for cutie no sunlight playing mildly, his mood was changed yet again. Oh the joys of being a changeable soul. Perhaps it meant he was un-educated or poorly so. Maybe it was an indication of just how simple he was. More likely however of these outcomes, it would be one above the rest. The one that read on the back of his truck, just below the Chevy sticker behind his head. " Oh that’s right i don’t give a fuck "A need for entertainment for substance blazed through him. A feeling that hit him square in the eyes leaving a wake of frustration in its ambiguous path. It had no definite origin but then his feelings very rarely ever did. Spontaneous, that was what made them fun. At least that would be what he would tell himself because he was unable to control them like others. Unconsciously pulling his fingertips into his palm he cracked at his knuckles. Yet another bad habit that he was unsure of when it started but what did it really matter anyway. Either way, he was yet to be rid of it at 26 and doubted he would be by 30. Thankfully the afternoon traffic was almost extinct now, and whatever cars still roamed around the streets where easily moved around. Market square towered over him in no time as he pulled into one of the many vacant car spaces. Pausing to take in the last of he the song as its vivid beat slowly left the cab he let his hand fall landing atop his notebook.
Odd really. Sitting there, so completely out of place. Not that a notebook couldn’t or wouldn’t be there just odd if you knew him. He was a builder by trade, a bar-man by night and he was very male directly to his core. He was not the type you saw sitting on bended knee writing feverishly in the pages. Yet there it was. A collection of moments that came on out of nowhere thoughts he didn’t share but couldn’t keep. He should throw it out. Get rid of the evidence of someone other than who he appeared to be. Yet he still couldn’t. Frustrated he pulled the keys with agitation from the ignition, leaving the notebook resting aimlessly on the empty bench beside him, as if it was pointless, nothing of importance at all, he was moving. Out of the car and onto the street slamming the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He never did. While Providence's jails where very rarely empty it was far from those caught stealing used trucks and more the students trying to sell drugs to the preachers daughter that you worried about. That and if anyone chose to steal anything it would not be from his beat up car. It would not be his collection of Death Cab, Muse and Angus and Julia Stone, it would not be his notebook of no importance, it would not be the pine fresh hanging from the dashboard, it would not be his radio that only just played cd's if you put them in the right way. No one would steal his car. No one but an idiot, a smack head, or someone with a death wish. Everyone knew it was his car, and he meant everyone. For some it was as simple as, notification of him. For others it was a label that read " Hi my name is ... poor "
Abandoning his car by the wall, he climbed the littered steps of the bustling centre, walking past groups of high school and university students who were talking avidly, in their cliché groups. It was hard to miss that tingle of longing that broke out through his mind as he saw them. You never did believe people when they said enjoy high school while it lasts. What he would give to be 17 again. But alas the dividing lines where here on the steps too. The artistic souls who sat with cameras at the ready and clothes that probably wouldn’t be in fashion till next year when they where over them. The skaters to the outer left trying to master the steps while buoyantly pushing at each other and laughing. And before him where he was walking ascending the stairs ? The girls who dare not sit on the ground. With skirts and dresses that cost more than his much loved beat up truck. None of which would ever date him but thought nothing of a gentle ogle. What could he say? Attention despite who it was coming from was not something he could hate. It was a nice feeling while it lasted, however long that was. One foot in front of the other over the stone stairs littered with the giggling of young girls. Smirking lowly the right corner of his lip curving into a smile he drifted around them moving freely past the girls who refused to sit on the ground and toward the stores.
It was as empty as his house on game day. A few stragglers moved from one side of the market to the other shuffling their feet reluctantly underneath them but most of them with purpose. They had a destination or a means to one. He on the other hand seemed to be aimless as always. His father would tell him this was a pattern. An unavoidable one, to which he did not care much about. Girls pushed past him smiling and trying to grasp at his attention to which he simply smiled and ran a hand through tangled locks awkwardly. Running a hand over his stomach he selfishly admired the muscles he felt. Well if he wasn’t getting paid well for his work then he should at least get something out of it. As he took a second glance toward the girls passing him, a newly acquired coffee resting in his hands he guessed at their age. 19, if not maybe younger. He was always bad at this game. Flirting he could do. It was the rest that he was uncomfortably comfortable with. Sitting on the bench he wondered, back resting into the lacquered wood, thinking, when did he get so old? When did 26 become old. why despite his rather young age and appearance did he somehow feel slightly perverted looking at younger girls even if they where nineteen. Great. Now he was burning to prove his agility and ability despite age. Team that with the urge of entertainment and this day, this night was bound to get weird. Well fuck ..... how did he get here again? Where was fun when you needed it?
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