Post by tessa awentia george on Sept 20, 2013 22:30:04 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-image:URL(http://i800.photobucket.com/albums/yy284/brooklynlolli/x0r3w0.png); border-left: 10px solid #1e1e1e; border-right: 10px solid #1e1e1e;] THERESA A. GEORGE  TESSA | 41 | HOME MAKER AND SELF PROCLAIMED FASHION EXPERT | ------------------------------------------------- WELCOME, TAKE A SEAT. START OFF WITH YOUR NAME, HOW OLD ARE YOU? Do we really have time for this? I know your life revolves around getting that interview from miss Theresa George, but really now. You don't need to follow me around like a lovesick puppy. I don't work for that magazine anymore. What?! I was not fired, I quit! I'm not telling you why. What do you want Mike? What do you mean, good for the press? Alright, alright, fine. Anyways, you were saying? Right. Well, my name is Theresa Awentia George -- my middle name is just fine, thank you -- born Maisonet, and though a lady never reveals her age and you are very rude for asking, I have no shame in admitting I'm fourty one years young. I look good for fourty, don't I? I used to be the editor for a big fashion magazine but left my job so that I could be closer to my children and to start my own fashion line. Sadly, the dream of being a fashion designer has fallen on the back burner, but it's still waiting for me. ------------------------------------------------- AWESOME. ARE YOU A LOCAL? Local? Me? No, not at all. I grew up in North Carolina -- not that you'd believe that, would you? But it's true nonetheless. I lived in a small town in North Carolina with my parents and brothers. I fell in love and married young, a choice I don't regret despite what I've been through, and so we moved back to his home in England. ------------------------------------------------- NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED. GOT A BIG FAMILY? I'M AN ONLY CHILD. Pushy, pushy. Don't you think you're getting kind of personal? And frankly, dear, I don't give a damn about your woes of being an only child. Yes, I have a fair sized family. I grew up in a small town in North Carolina, as I mentioned. My mother was Cherokee, if you were wondering, but she didn't have a stupid name like little foot or those other racist so called "Indian" names. Her name was Virginia. She was married to my father Grant Maisonet, and had three sons before me - Thomas, Jeremy and Lucas. Tommy, Jem, Luke and I were close, as most southern families are. Luke was the eldest and, besides me, had the strongest head on his shoulder. Jem was the middle and Tom was a year older than me but, bless their heart they were dumber than soup. I was barely out of high school when I met my husband Frederick. Couldn't even drink, had no experience with men and yet, I was in love. Her was so charming, was financially secure and god you should have seen him in his prime. He was one hell of a looker. Freddie junior, or Mason as he goes by, would hate to hear me say something like that but I can't deny it. Even now, he's still got his looks. Fred promised to take me away from the folksy country life to the excitement of England and I jumped at the chance to not only be with this man who had blessed me with his attention but also who blessed me with the chance to escape country life. Two years later, my boy Frederick Mason George was born. Don't listen to him when he says it's the reverse, I named him after his father. Even if the man isn't the nicest, he has some great qualities and Mason should be proud to have part of his genes. To distinguish between the two, however, I will call him Mason. Just know I don't like it. Mason and I were close all through his childhood. He would prefer to stick around me, avoiding my husband's explosive temper to the best of his ability. Don't pity me -- though at times I may seem weak, I'm strong enough to take you on. I did whatever I had to, to keep my children safe and financially secure. Although Mason certainly has his temper, and does act out as teens and young men are wont to do, he and I are still as close as ever, and I only have the best in mind for him when I set him and the beautiful Clarissa Stewart up. But that doesn't mean I'm any less close to my beautiful daughter Samantha. She, too, bears part of her father's name. While Mason received the Frederick, I gave Sam the feminine form of her father's middle name, Samuel. Sam and I didn't always see eye to eye, and I still do not understand why she won't take interest in the fashion world, but she's my daughter no matter and I love her. She was the more innocent of my two, and I tried to protect her from the harshness of this world. Somehow I think she knows anyways -- you can see it in her eyes. She's had no experience with men, as far as I'm aware and that concerns me. I don't regret my choices, but I wouldn't wish her to follow my path when it comes to marriage and children. ------------------------------------------------- GO FIGURE. DO YOU THINK YOUR FAMILY SHAPE WHO YOU ARE AS A PERSON? Honestly, ma'am. You're getting out of hand. Haven't I told you enough? Yes, they shaped me. That good? No, of course it isn't. Alright, well, my family didn't have a lot of money growing up. It was difficult -- my brothers had to deal with hand-me-downs and though I didn't, my clothing was never top of the line. I developed an almost desperate craving for financial security as a result, and that may have been part of the reason I jumped at the chance to be a George. Of course, growing up in the Southern USA, family plays a very important part in your life. Though my accent is nearly nonexistent by now, as well it should be, and my mannerisms too are almost gone, there are some things that just haven't changed. Family is very important to me. I still talk to my brothers and my parents, when I can get away with it, and having my family stay in tact is part of why I refuse to leave my husband, despite my brothers begging me so. One thing that stayed through out my life is my mother's worry tree. When I was a child, my mother had a tree outside that she used to blow a kiss to the tree and leave her worries. Whenever my brothers or I would come in the house with a bad mood, she'd tell us to go kiss the tree and leave our worries at the door, because they didn't belong in the house. I thought it was a wonder philosophy to live by, so when I moved to England with my husband, I painted a tree on the entry-way wall and told my children to kiss the tree as well. The one thing I didn't get from my family, though, was my fashion sense. That was purely me. My husband, too, has affected me greatly in my life. I am a strong woman, don't misunderstand me, but it's hard to be around him sometimes. It makes me nervous and paranoid, twitchy even as some have describe it. I do tend to react quickly to volatile situations, but I believe that this makes my life better. Better to be prepared than dead, right? ------------------------------------------------- THATS DEEP, MAN. YOU SEEM PRETTY INTERESTING, YOU MUST HAVE AN INTERESTING BACK STORY, HM? I'm so sick of your useless questions. How many more will you ask? Are you going to ask my weight next? Huff. I've stated this three times now, but I was born into a small town in North Carolina. Technically, I could have had native status and lived on the reservation, but something told my mom that would be a bad idea. We didn't have a lot of money -- my mother was a home maker and my father was a convenience store clerk. Though I didn't have hand-me-downs like my brothers, many of my things were either handmade or from thrift stores. Rarely did I get something brand new. The cause of this was that my parents had only been teens when they were married. I was a good kid, growing up. sure, I rebelled now and then but especially as a child I was a tattle tale. This resulted in the childhood nickname Saint Theresa. I was closest to my brother Tommy. My brother weren't necessarily the smartest, and for the most part they didn't want to leave NC, but I loved them all the same. They just didn't understand me and why I insisted on accessorizing my clothes. I wanted to make the best of what I had. When I was in the tenth grade I met a boy named Kent Stewart. Kent and I were close friends -- one of the only real friends I had - and, at a time, I once considered making something between us. When he moved away in the eleventh grade, I tried to write him letters. It was his advice to make a career of my passion for fashion that truly made me follow my dreams. That was how I met Frederick. He was a little more than ten years my senior. I had taken the bus out of my impoverished little town into one of the bigger cities, to do some studying of the styles there. Our eyes met in that coffee shop and we connected instantly. He was charming, suave... swanky. Don't ask. It's an English thing. Like posh, I guess. He promised me financial security, promised to take me away, promised to give me everything. I was eighteen, a virgin, and naive. Desperate to escape my poverty-stricken life, after four months dating, I said yes. Our ceremony was a small one, just family and a few friends, and before I knew it I was off to England. Two years later, I gave birth to Frederick Mason George. He was a beautiful boy, but after his birth things started to change. I suppose that now Fred knew I wasn't going to go anywhere, he started to get more explosive and angry -- volatile, even. It wasn't until Mason was five and Samatha three that he struck me for the first time. By this time, I was building up my career in fashion editorial and had came home late from the office. He was convinced I was cheating on him, causing an argument that lead to a slap. I was so stunned and so, so hurt. I didn't know where my loving husband had gone, but I couldn't leave him. I had children to care for, and I could not support them on my income alone. Plus, I knew my husband was there somewhere. I still loved him. When Mason was ten, we moved to California to oversee the expansion of Fred's hotel company into the US markets.Only a few years later, I ran into Kent Stewart and his family. He turned out well, I must admit, and I offered to let him stay with us. It had seemed like a bad idea when I spoke to Frederick, but during the time the Stewarts stayed with us, he turned back into the man I loved and had married. When I saw that Kent' eldest daughter Clarissa (what a beautiful name, I'm not too fond on her nickname Rissa, Claire would be much prettier, but a beautiful name nonetheless) had taken interest in my Freddie, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to live a splendid life with beautiful children. However, before long our time back in America was cut short as Fred's work in the USA had finished, so we moved back to England. A year later the Stewarts followed us, and the courtship of Rissa and Freddie continued. Until he was fourteen. Apparently Clarissa wasn't perfect after all and damaged poor Freddie emotionally. My poor boy started acting out -- drinking, partying and what have you. Fred was furious that the heir to his company was responding in such a "disgusting' manner, ruining his well estabilished and much fought for reputation. I have to admit, I was disappointed and mad as well. I was doing well as an Editor for a big fashion magazine, and I didn't enjoy the sullying of my own reputation, but it couldn't be helped. Frederick decided to send him away to California, to a boarding school. I didn't agree with it, but I wouldn't speak out against my husband, especially as he was getting violent once more. I kept an eye on my daughter and son the best I could while they were in North America. Alone with my husband once more, I guess he was afraid I would gather the courage to leave him. So, he began pressuring me to stop working and stay home. I agreed eventually, wanting to focus on m children and start my own fashion line anyways. So far this dream has been put on the back burner, but I want it still. We decided to move back to California, to San Francisco. I wasn't sure what his reasoning before it, but I was happy as it meant that I could be with my son and daughter. Maybe I could help get Rissa and my Freddie back together. Oh, sorry. I said I would call him Mason. Too bad now. ------------------------------------------------- MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED. ANYWAY, THATS IT. THANKS FOR YOUR TIME. Well isn't that rather rude? What gives you the right to speak to me like that? Honestly, you were the one pushing me for details. Whatever. I have things to be doing. Can you leave now? ------------------------------------------------- THE PERSON BEHIND THIS WONDERFUL CHARACTER IS GENERALLY CALLED LUNA AND SITS AT SEVENTEEN. SHE LIVES IN THE PST TIMEZONE. ALSO, THIS CHARACTER LOOKS PRETTY SIMILAR TO CATHERINE ZETA-JONES, DON'T YOU THINK? |
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