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Post by Jay Trent Jessica & Zak [`A]! on Aug 21, 2007 22:13:35 GMT -5
Zak's the name, beatboxing is my game.
Full name's Zackary Andrew Livingston, but I really prefer Zak.
Brown hair, blonde tips/streaks, lightbrown/hazel eyes, 5'6" and damn proud of it.
I guess you could call me a 'social outcast.' I hate socializing with people - you know, engaging in full conversations, rambling on and on about this, that, and the other thing and all that lovely junk. The only time I really 'socialize' with a person, is if it's a girl and I'm totally into her. So if I'm talking to you in complete sentences and not just one-worded phrases, that usually means you know I'm into you. Hm, what else to say; just to let you guys know I'm not that interesting of a person..so this might get boring after awhile. Let's see, I'm a foster child. I was abandoned when I was five and have been jumping from family to family for thirteen years. So, put that together and you get eight-teen. Yup, just turned 18 on July 14th. Anyways...Somehow, somewhere, in that heap of moving and that whole mess, I discovered that I have a passion for beatboxing and breakdancing. I drink and smoke quite frequently; mostly because my mom did it when she was pregnant with me. So it made me way more susceptible to getting addicted to it. I'm just lucky I didn't come out with any birth defects. I can't really be labeled as 'prep, skater, goth' or anything like that based upon my style. I'm an individual - something this society needs to learn how to be. I have six tattoo's, all except one I received illegally. Anyways, I drive a navyblue 2005 Ford F-150 and it's my baby. Since I moved so much from the time I was five until now, I have no friends & no real family. So, I guess I'll take you through a crash course of my childhood and what I remember of it.
Well, on my fifth birthday, my cheap-ass druggie that I had for a mom decided to drop me off at the nearest orphanage/foster home building-type thing. (Which was the best decision of her life, I think) And she gave me these instructions: (These words are EXACTLY what she said) "Honey, you're going to walk up to that door with me. I'm going to knock and leave you. Once I do, someone should answer the door. When they do and ask what you're doing there or who you are say, 'My name's Zackary Livingston and my mom sent me here because she's a drug-addict that can't support me any longer.'" And that's exactly what I said. They took me in immediately and by the next day, I was being taken in by a family of three: a mom, dad & a 5-year-old girl. Boy, that was a mistake. The second I got to their house I destroyed Katheryn's (the mom) great-grandma's vase that was worth two million dollars. Yeah, those concequences were definitely not fun to deal with. Anyways, three months passed and I was right back at the foster home.. 'agency-thing.' About a week later I was with another family; they were really nice and caring. However, I wasn't very disciplined since I was raised for five years by my careless mother. Well, they put up with me for about....a year and three months? So when I was six and a half, they sent me back. And then the next family, oh man, the next family. They picked me up a month later from the foster home place. And from the moment I stepped into their house I was abused. And when I say abused, I mean, physically abused. Because I was not disciplined; I fought back. That relationship didn't last too long.. two days to be exact. I came back to the foster home center with scratches, bruises, and what-not. After that I was moved again, and from there I was moved thirteen more times. Over that period I've learned more respect and definitely discipline and I thank the families that wouldn't give up and actually cared for me. But now that I'm eightteen I'm officially an 'adult' and left to fend for myself. That's when I decided to take all the money I've collected over the years, from random jobs and some of the nice families paying me to watch their younger kids, and enroll myself in a really nice school. I figured I needed an education to get a job, might as well get a high-paying one by finishing off my senior year with a 'bang.'
[/color][/center]Full name's Zackary Andrew Livingston, but I really prefer Zak.
Brown hair, blonde tips/streaks, lightbrown/hazel eyes, 5'6" and damn proud of it.
I guess you could call me a 'social outcast.' I hate socializing with people - you know, engaging in full conversations, rambling on and on about this, that, and the other thing and all that lovely junk. The only time I really 'socialize' with a person, is if it's a girl and I'm totally into her. So if I'm talking to you in complete sentences and not just one-worded phrases, that usually means you know I'm into you. Hm, what else to say; just to let you guys know I'm not that interesting of a person..so this might get boring after awhile. Let's see, I'm a foster child. I was abandoned when I was five and have been jumping from family to family for thirteen years. So, put that together and you get eight-teen. Yup, just turned 18 on July 14th. Anyways...Somehow, somewhere, in that heap of moving and that whole mess, I discovered that I have a passion for beatboxing and breakdancing. I drink and smoke quite frequently; mostly because my mom did it when she was pregnant with me. So it made me way more susceptible to getting addicted to it. I'm just lucky I didn't come out with any birth defects. I can't really be labeled as 'prep, skater, goth' or anything like that based upon my style. I'm an individual - something this society needs to learn how to be. I have six tattoo's, all except one I received illegally. Anyways, I drive a navyblue 2005 Ford F-150 and it's my baby. Since I moved so much from the time I was five until now, I have no friends & no real family. So, I guess I'll take you through a crash course of my childhood and what I remember of it.
Well, on my fifth birthday, my cheap-ass druggie that I had for a mom decided to drop me off at the nearest orphanage/foster home building-type thing. (Which was the best decision of her life, I think) And she gave me these instructions: (These words are EXACTLY what she said) "Honey, you're going to walk up to that door with me. I'm going to knock and leave you. Once I do, someone should answer the door. When they do and ask what you're doing there or who you are say, 'My name's Zackary Livingston and my mom sent me here because she's a drug-addict that can't support me any longer.'" And that's exactly what I said. They took me in immediately and by the next day, I was being taken in by a family of three: a mom, dad & a 5-year-old girl. Boy, that was a mistake. The second I got to their house I destroyed Katheryn's (the mom) great-grandma's vase that was worth two million dollars. Yeah, those concequences were definitely not fun to deal with. Anyways, three months passed and I was right back at the foster home.. 'agency-thing.' About a week later I was with another family; they were really nice and caring. However, I wasn't very disciplined since I was raised for five years by my careless mother. Well, they put up with me for about....a year and three months? So when I was six and a half, they sent me back. And then the next family, oh man, the next family. They picked me up a month later from the foster home place. And from the moment I stepped into their house I was abused. And when I say abused, I mean, physically abused. Because I was not disciplined; I fought back. That relationship didn't last too long.. two days to be exact. I came back to the foster home center with scratches, bruises, and what-not. After that I was moved again, and from there I was moved thirteen more times. Over that period I've learned more respect and definitely discipline and I thank the families that wouldn't give up and actually cared for me. But now that I'm eightteen I'm officially an 'adult' and left to fend for myself. That's when I decided to take all the money I've collected over the years, from random jobs and some of the nice families paying me to watch their younger kids, and enroll myself in a really nice school. I figured I needed an education to get a job, might as well get a high-paying one by finishing off my senior year with a 'bang.'
