Hudson Oliveira
full name Daniel Hudson Oliveira
birthday August 5th
age Twenty-six
born in Illinois
current location the Bronx, New York
sexuality Bisexual
height 6'0"
weight around 150 pounds, slim build, but not unhealthy
hair dark brown, short, usually messy
eyes dark brown, “brooding”
piercings none
tattoos none
family
father Richard Oliveira
siblings Claire Oliveira, 19
other ex-wife: Noe Afton, 25
daughter: Linden Oliveira, 4
interests
cigarettes
cheap wine
his daughter
old horror movies
fishing at night
mythology
writing/reading
[in his own words]
Hey there. I’m Daniel. Well, actually I prefer Hudson, but it doesn’t matter either way what you call me, so long as you don’t refer to me as “that guy.” I’ve worked as an editor for a writer’s-union type of magazine called Techniques for the past three or so years. The magazine isn’t particularly well known, but I rather enjoy my job. At least it pays the bills, you know? I also write my own stuff from time to time. I’m not professional and I don’t have any books out, but some of my writing has been put into the magazine in the past and I’ve gotten quite a few compliments on it. Maybe one of these days I’ll work on getting published.
Anyway.
I’m twenty-six years old, born on August 5th to Richard Oliveira and Susan Daye. Both of my parents are great, hilarious, fun-loving people. My mother is a small-town restaurant owner and my father is a freelance photographer. I have a younger sister. She’s nineteen and her name is Claire. Admittedly, she’s a bit of a drama-queen, but I love her to bits.
As a child, I’ve been told that I was very intelligent from a rather young age. I learned how to read at age four. I was reading Stephen King novels in the fourth grade. I loved his work, even though the stories gave me nightmares that had me wetting the bed for weeks. For Christmas when I was five, my father—or should I say “Santa”?—got me a stack of notebooks, a sketchpad, a pack of gel pens, and a small typewriter. He began to teach me how to write. I was excited for this, surprisingly enough, because even at such a young age, I knew I wanted to be a writer. I blame Stephen King for that—my all-time favorite author and my main inspiration in life.
Kids in school used to call me a nerd or a freak for being this way. While all the other boys in my fifth grade class were aspiring to be fire-fighters or world-champion boxers or whatever, I wanted to be a writer. They thought this abnormal and stupid of me—“where was the fun in writing anyway?” they’d ask. But when I tried to explain to them how exciting it was for me, they’d cut me off and tell me to get my head out of my ass, to stop being such a sourpuss. None of the other kids really liked me, but my teachers thought I was great. They were always trying to convince my parents to let me skip a few grades. Apparently I was pretty advanced for someone my age… I never let them, though. I told them it’d only make the teasing worse, and I was a shy kid back then, so I didn’t handle other people’s crap very well.
But even without skipping grades, I never really settled in. The harassment got worse the more I tried to avoid other people, no matter whether I tried to hide it how much it bothered me or not. So eventually I just had my parents take me out of school. I started getting home-schooled. I lost contact with the few friends that I had made, and I was pretty much sheltered. It was pathetic. All because of some kids at school that thought they were better than me. I spent a lot of time reading and inside my own head though, so I guess some good came out of it. I always had an overactive imagination. That certainly helps with my writing and all.
You know how people say that you shouldn’t let other people push you around or let what they say get to you because when you all get older, they won’t amount to anything anyway? Sometimes that’s true, but not always. I never gave up on my dreams to become a writer. Some of my tormentors became complete nobodies later on in life, whereas others went on to become very important people, no matter whether they grew out of their immaturity or not. Just because someone’s an asshole doesn’t mean that they won’t still find a way to get ahead in life. You gotta be realistic, you know? There’s no use denying that life isn’t always fair.
It’s actually kind of scary how messed up society really is these days. Maybe I’m just being a bit depressing, but there a lot more assholes in this world today than there are genuinely decent people. To raise a kid under these conditions, you have to be very hopeful for the best. I try to raise my daughter to be the very best person that she could possibly be, even with so much bad going on around us, but honestly I’m not afraid of how she will turn out. No matter what type of person my daughter goes on to be, I will always love and support and stand by her in all of her decisions. I’m mostly just worried about how society will impact her, or treat her, and of the possibility of her getting seriously hurt, and how I might react the first time I find out that another person has hurt her in some way or another. I suppose you could say that I’m an incredibly protective person when it comes to my loved ones…