|Deвяα Gяαу (donotconspire) wrote,|
@ 2012-12-30 20:05:00
contact info: firstname.lastname@example.org or squidded @ aim
did you read the rules? yazzflute
character name: Debra Diane Gray
hometown: Fairfield, Connecticut
major: Major; Political Science, minor; Film&Television
pb: Carly Pope
age/dob: 18 \ July 12th
character history: Debra is the first born to Joe and Rebecca, a joy to their life following Rebecca's illness from breast cancer and her subsequent recovery. Joe works in an accounting firm and Rebecca gave up her hospital orderly job before she started the treatment for her cancer and then, after she got pregnant, just never went back. Debra was a quiet child but a fairly active one. She loved going to the park to play, loved being outside, loved doing just about everything.
Deb even reacted well when her Mom got pregnant again and baby Carrie was brought home. Deb liked being a big sister, it was pretty easy too since Carrie barely did anything but eat and sleep and poop. Joe and Rebecca had their ten year anniversary when Deb was five and announced that they were welcoming baby number three at some point that year. Deb was more excited because Carrie was growing up and getting boring.
When she started school, Deb discovered that she was a little bit strange -because the other kids all made friends with each other and she just, sort of, didn't. It wasn't that she didn't talk, it was just that she didn't really talk. Deb made up stories to keep people from getting too interested -she didn't really want to share her little sister or brother with that weird person who mentioned loving kids. She was the sort of girl that was there, but no one really knew. She liked it this way.
Days were filled with imagination, reading and writing and daydreaming about things that would be exciting and unusual and something fun. Deb found that she liked that more than talking and playing and hanging out. She became somewhat reclusive; she didn't go to parties or hang outs, never went to the dances (it wasn't like anyone asked her anyway, she was just that average girl from school that everyone looked past). Her passion for writing grew and Deb decided the journalism was where her future was.
Problem was that she had a little bit of a ... well, an unconventional style of 'reporting'. That nuclear factory in Tokyo? Totally a front for the robot army they're building. The moon landing? Totally just chilling out in the Arctic. Don't get her started on Lee Harvey Oswald, or AIDS, or Elvis, or UFOs, or a whole lot of other stuff that she could go on about for hours.
It's partially why she doesn't exactly have 'friends'. She was 'weird' and 'off the wall' and 'wrote those really stupid things that made Scientology look like it made sense'. It never really bothered Debra all that much. She went to school, did her thing, came home and worked her way through conspiracy theories online. It was there that she made friends, people who understood like her, people who were searching all the same.
Debra taught herself how to program, she taught herself computer coding and hacking and eventually used it to formulate her own reports. She runs a blog that keeps getting hits throughout the conspiracy theory community, even if it's a joke to most other people.
Finishing up high school however, meant that she needed to find something to do, something serious. She refused to go to Fairfield University -far too close to home, far too embroiled in all her high school friends. She was almost set to go to Benjamin Franklin Education Center, just south of Bridgeport, when her Nana Midi, her mom's mom, called and stated that, if Debra could get in, she'd pay for tuition at NYA.
Nana Midi was a small time stage actress turned director turned screen writer who, after graduating from NYADA, turned into some kind of eccentric older Jewish woman. Debra really didn't care, Nana Midi was always pretty cool.
So, apply to NYA, Debra decided to specialise in Political Science and work on her journalism later, figuring out the politics of the nation were much more important, and to keep her Nana happy, she opted for a minor in Film and Television studies in her sophomore year of studying.
Not that she thinks that it'll be any different than high school, what with people just not getting it.
Recently, the boards have been lighting up with numerous takes on several anti-Semitic conspiracy theories that have recently been making the rounds all over again. Now, I completely get how everyone worries about repeating the mistakes or even just offending people, but honestly, hearing the same old, same old discussions on these topics and getting nowhere is more insulting than two people arguing about Holocaust denial.
First and foremost, animal and human blood isn't kosher, okay. So if Middle-Age times want to argue that the Jew's poisoned Jesus and consumed blood, they have to at least take a little bit of a look into the Judaic practices. Secondly, it's spelled Z-I-O-N, not X-I-O-N. If you want to argue the point in specific Freemason plotting, figure out how to spell your references, would you!? The Protocols of the Elders of Zion is not only one of the most famous pieces of work detailing this, but it's also available on Amazon!
For some things, wikipedia is your friend.
Seriously, things like this drag me away from actual study of the political joke that is our country. You might want to rethink that for when I break through on the best kept secrets this country has to offer and you're all still talking about the Federal Reserve System and the Rothschild's again.
In certain ways, Debra considered herself 'old school'. She adored her computer system. She'd rewrote her own OS just so that her entire computer ran to her specific preferences and was completely inoperable unless it was her using it. But for some things, she felt that a little of the 'old ways' was needed. She knew that she was making more work for herself, a saved copy on a computer would mean just a few edits in a few minor places, but instead, if there was something wrong with her work, she'd be rewriting it from scratch.
But that was just it. All her essays, all her reports, each and every piece of work for her Political Science course was handed in on lined paper, in a binder, written in ball point black ink. It meant she had ink stains on her fingers and her knuckles tended to cramp, but it felt so much more like an accomplishment when she'd written it all out for presenting.
She could type a report in under fifty minutes, she had the fastest typing speed in her class and she knew she could probably make a program that would write her report for her. Instead, she went with the more archaic of ways.
Carrie always called her 'twisted' because she did things like that, made things harder than they needed to be, more complicated. Dad said it was because she was dedicated and worked for herself. Nana Midi just smiled and winked at her, something about kindred spirits and then asking if she wanted her tarot read for her.
So there she was, at five in the morning, putting the finishing touches to her essay and making a point of making sure each and every word was spelled correctly. She'd had to rewrite three pages of one essay in her freshman year because she'd gotten lazy and not checked, and Debra was damned if she'd be handing in anything that was incorrect. She was learning how to live without sleep anyway. There was no way she was letting the Government get any little bugs into her brain while she slept in a public building, no matter how secure the dorms were.
Sleep was for the weak anyway.