Post by François Bonnefoy on Oct 29, 2011 2:06:12 GMT -5
You want to tell me what this is all about?
Name: François “Francis” Bonnefoy
Street Name: N/A
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Age: Forty-three-years-old
Bitch or Homie: Male
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone[/font][/size][/b]
Where you from?: Marseille, France
Whatchoo do?: Middle school English teacher at one of the local public schools
Who you be reppin?: N/A
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
How you do:
- Aesthetically Driven :: Fickle :: Indecisive :: Picky :: Shallow.
- Argumentative :: Biased :: Opinionated :: Outspoken :: Self-Assertive.
- Arrogant :: Conceited :: Egocentric :: Self-Absorbed :: Vain.
- Astute :: Intelligent :: Logical :: Rational :: Sharp-Witted.
- Believes Words Are a Form of Art :: Eloquent :: Long-Winded :: Talkative :: Verbose.
- Brotherly :: Doting :: Family-Oriented :: Loving :: Paternal.
- Charismatic :: Cunning :: Manipulative :: Persuasive :: Sly.
- Charming :: Gentleman :: Polite :: Well-Mannered :: Socially Adept.
- Chic :: Elegant :: Fashionable :: Stylish :: Trendy.
- Clear-Sighted :: Insightful :: Perceptive :: Shrewd :: Wise.
- Condescending :: Narcissistic :: Prideful :: Snob :: Superiority Complex.
- Confident :: Individualistic :: Independent :: Maverick :: Self-Reliant.
- Coward :: Driven by Self-Preservation :: Fearful of Harm :: Physically Weak :: Quick to Retreat at Physical Danger ::
- Crusading Spirit :: Driven by a Higher Purpose :: Feels Compelled to ‘Enlighten’ Others :: Messianic ::Savior Complex.
- Cynical :: Fears Commitment :: Guarded :: Mistrustful :: Suspicious of Others
- Dramatic :: Histrionic :: Melodramatic :: Over-the-Top :: Theatrical.
- Dreams Big :: Follows Through on His Promises :: Goal Oriented :: Hardworking :: Reliable.
- Flirtatious :: Loving :: Openly Affectionate :: Romantic :: Tactile.
- France and French-Centric Mentality :: Ill-Informed About the World :: Prejudiced Against Non-French :: Strong National Identity :: Xenophobic.
- Intransigent :: Obstinate :: Persistent :: Relentless :: Stubborn.
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Your thing:
- Art :: Art Museums :: Pottery :: Sketching.
- Being a Parent :: Children :: Fussing After Little Ones.
- Cellular Phones :: Texting.
- Challenging Other Viewpoints :: Debates :: Intelligent Discussion.
- Clothes :: Fashion :: Fashion Boutiques :: Fashion Design.
- Coffee :: Champagne :: Fine Wine.
- Gardening :: Floral Scents :: Flowers :: Nature.
- Music :: Piano :: Singing :: Violin.
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
Not your thing:
- Accusations of Sexual Harassment :: Being Called a Pervert :: Forceful Love :: Rape.
- All Dialects of English :: England :: English Culture.
- Being Ignored :: Being Overlooked :: Not Receiving Proper Attention.
- Commitment :: Overwhelming Responsibility :: Pressure.
- Computers :: Facebook :: Online Blogs.
- Confinement :: Inflexibility :: Too Many Rules.
- Grading Assignments :: Paperwork :: Sloppy Handwriting.
- Ignorance :: Inarticulateness :: Stupidity.
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
What you been through:
- François Bonnefoy is born to loving parents in Merseilles, France on July 12, 1968. His father works as a professor at a prestigious French university and his mother as the head chef of a modest restaurant.
- François’ childhood passes without incident. As a teen, he becomes a flirtatious young man well aware of his charms and how to wield them. He goes through several relationships over the years before experiencing a small dry spell until his second year at his university.
- Though he was loathe to due to a dislike of the culture, François opts to attend a university in the United States of America.
- In his second year at his university, where he studies education and literature, François meets an aspiring law student named Marguerite Dubois (also from France). It is not love at first sight; she finds him far too fickle and troublesome for her tastes, and he finds her too serious about life.
- After sharing a few classes together, François and Marguerite become friends. It is only in that friendship they start to find love, because she starts to look past his flirtatious and arrogant exterior and he starts to see the warmer, more loving side of her.
- François marries Marguerite Dubois in the spring of 1990, only months before their graduation. Shortly thereafter, she goes on to law school while he balances his student-teaching with graduate school.
- Marguerite gives birth to a baby girl, Sophie, on January 8, 1993. With a new daughter to spoil, and a lovely wife to fuss over, François couldn't be happier.
- François begins working at a public middle school. The neighborhood by the school is in rough condition and wrought with gang activity, but it is his hopes that he will slowly make a difference in the lives of the students he teaches.
- Marguerite gives birth to a baby boy, Adrien, on June 29, 1995. François is ecstatic to have a son and dotes on his growing family.
- François and Marguerite divorce amicably in the summer of 1999 due to wanting different things out of life. Marguerite, with Adrien and Sophie, moves to a different part of the city for a few months before expressing a desire to move to another state.
- Initially, Marguerite and François are to share custody of Adrien and Sophie. However, moving out of the state would make it impossible to maintain the arrangement. Rather than take her daughter and son away from their father and risk denying them attention due to her demanding work schedule or jostling the kids between them, Marguerite offers Francis full-custody. He accepts.
- Life proceeds as normal for François. He does not remarry, though he does engage in a few brief relationships that last for several months. Rather, he devotes much of his time to raising Adrien and Sophie, teaching at the middle school, and trying to make a difference in the community.
- As of 2011, and at forty-three-years-old, François lives in a modest house in the city. The exterior is a bit rundown and the neighborhood not as safe as he’d hope, but it is within walking distance to work. He has done his best to transform the inside into a lavish, comfortable home for himself, Adrien, and Sophie, though there are days he wish he could do better for his kids.
At the very least, though, he tries and he has done his best to ensure that they do not go without their needs and many of their wants.
On my knees in the night
Other shit:
- Given how long he has been teaching (approximately eighteen years), it is very likely that many of the current gang members in the neighborhood are students François has taught in the past.
- He is known for going off on rants in French during class against the English language and all to which it pertains.
Sayin prayers in the street light
Show us what you got:
“Woaaah!”
Alois’ ankles wobbled beneath his weight and, with arms flailing, he whirled around in search of something—anything—to steady himself. The desk was too short for him to grab onto comfortable, the walls were too far for him to lean up against, and… There! He grabbed onto a full length mirror perched only a few steps away and held on for dear life, trying not to take so much as a deep breath lest he lost his balance.
How anyone managed to wear such tall boots was beyond him. The heels had to be at least seven centimeters tall if not even larger, and while they did make him taller they also made it impossible to walk. Still, he would just have to get used to them. He needed them for the costume, because the cape didn’t look right otherwise and he wanted to look the role of a tall, imposing prince instead of the short, meek pauper he really was.
Alois waited a few short breaths to make sure the threat of toppling over had passed before he slowly and very, very gingerly straightened his spin. The one good thing about grabbing onto the mirror was that it put him in the perfect position to inspect his new costume. All he had to do was take two steps back—
As soon as he lifted his foot, Alois found himself wobbling again. With a squeak, he threw his arms out in an attempt to balance himself and spread his legs so as to better brace his weight on the floor. The wobbling stopped. Though he felt ridiculous, he dragged his other foot back slowly for that second step. He was too afraid to risk lifting it again, worried he would fall.
Alois wiggled his toes in his boots and then scooted his feet back together so he could stand up straight. Once he was certain he was stable, he lowered his arms with a small smile.
“There. That should do it. Now, how do I look?”
There was no one to answer him in the empty room, of course, but the question helped fill the stifling silence. He looked in the mirror, his eyes moving up and down what he saw there, and his smile brightened. The pants were long enough! Well-tailored, too, if he did say so himself; he’d managed to avoid any puckers at the seams or stray threads this time.
Alois rotated his shoulders to get a feel for his new shirt and twisted his torso to the left. Not bad, not bad. He would have to bring in the fabric around his shoulders and upper arms just a bit, it was too loose and puffy, but the rest of it looked nice. Not to mention the stark white color only dragged attention to the bright red cape thrown haphazardly across his shoulders.
He reached up to adjust the positioning of the cape, trying to achieve that casual, elegant, have-no-care look all the princes in faerie tales had. Once he was satisfied, he paused to run his fingers over the white fur trip. Rabbit fur. It, like the rest of the materials he’d bought for this costume, had cost him quite the penny and that was with him buying some of the more low-quality products.
“Just one more thing…”
Hobbling over to his work desk, Alois plucked the tiny crown he’d painstakingly crafted after studying pictures in books. He lowered it on his head, careful to fix his hair so it looked smooth and perfect, before he slowly made his way back to the mirror. What he saw made his face light up.
“It actually looks good!” He gushed as he did a slow turn, glancing over his shoulder to see how the back looked. “I’m like a tiny Prince Charming!”
Alois’ ankles wobbled beneath his weight and, with arms flailing, he whirled around in search of something—anything—to steady himself. The desk was too short for him to grab onto comfortable, the walls were too far for him to lean up against, and… There! He grabbed onto a full length mirror perched only a few steps away and held on for dear life, trying not to take so much as a deep breath lest he lost his balance.
How anyone managed to wear such tall boots was beyond him. The heels had to be at least seven centimeters tall if not even larger, and while they did make him taller they also made it impossible to walk. Still, he would just have to get used to them. He needed them for the costume, because the cape didn’t look right otherwise and he wanted to look the role of a tall, imposing prince instead of the short, meek pauper he really was.
Alois waited a few short breaths to make sure the threat of toppling over had passed before he slowly and very, very gingerly straightened his spin. The one good thing about grabbing onto the mirror was that it put him in the perfect position to inspect his new costume. All he had to do was take two steps back—
As soon as he lifted his foot, Alois found himself wobbling again. With a squeak, he threw his arms out in an attempt to balance himself and spread his legs so as to better brace his weight on the floor. The wobbling stopped. Though he felt ridiculous, he dragged his other foot back slowly for that second step. He was too afraid to risk lifting it again, worried he would fall.
Alois wiggled his toes in his boots and then scooted his feet back together so he could stand up straight. Once he was certain he was stable, he lowered his arms with a small smile.
“There. That should do it. Now, how do I look?”
There was no one to answer him in the empty room, of course, but the question helped fill the stifling silence. He looked in the mirror, his eyes moving up and down what he saw there, and his smile brightened. The pants were long enough! Well-tailored, too, if he did say so himself; he’d managed to avoid any puckers at the seams or stray threads this time.
Alois rotated his shoulders to get a feel for his new shirt and twisted his torso to the left. Not bad, not bad. He would have to bring in the fabric around his shoulders and upper arms just a bit, it was too loose and puffy, but the rest of it looked nice. Not to mention the stark white color only dragged attention to the bright red cape thrown haphazardly across his shoulders.
He reached up to adjust the positioning of the cape, trying to achieve that casual, elegant, have-no-care look all the princes in faerie tales had. Once he was satisfied, he paused to run his fingers over the white fur trip. Rabbit fur. It, like the rest of the materials he’d bought for this costume, had cost him quite the penny and that was with him buying some of the more low-quality products.
“Just one more thing…”
Hobbling over to his work desk, Alois plucked the tiny crown he’d painstakingly crafted after studying pictures in books. He lowered it on his head, careful to fix his hair so it looked smooth and perfect, before he slowly made his way back to the mirror. What he saw made his face light up.
“It actually looks good!” He gushed as he did a slow turn, glancing over his shoulder to see how the back looked. “I’m like a tiny Prince Charming!”
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise