About
Well, it's time to update this thing once
again Again. . .
I've been a part of Gaia for a long time. 2003, though this account was made in January 2004. I was born in 1988. I don't update this often, so you can just math.
I like to draw, but I wouldn't want to call myself an artist. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my work thoroughly, but I'm not quite meeting my own standards yet. And I don't do anything professionally, I only draw when I get into certain creative moods. So my uploads aren't frequent at all, and sometimes it seems as if I've dropped out of the hobby altogether. But, if you want to see any of my work you totally can anyway, it's
-this is my old stuff!- right there. The newer stuff is
more relevant.
How about my job?
I'm currently living it up as a manager at a pizza place. Nah, I'm not going to tell you which one, but you get the idea. I tell pizza what to do, and it trembles as I shove it into the oven for disobeying! No wait, I don't think that's how it goes. . .
I left the pizza place, joined a bakery. I apprenticed under a baker for a time, and am currently a baker now, out of the apprenticeship. I honestly think that I didn't learn enough really, but the world is in such a hurry to push people along. Oh, well.
UPDATE: I'm now an Assistant Manager in a new bakery, and I work 45 hours a week. So, I live there, basically. It's okay though.
As for what I do on Gaia? Well, it's likely to be roleplaying. I LOVE to rp. So much! Yay. Rps fill me up with sticky joy. So you'll usually find me somewhere in Barton Town if I'm on Gaia.
I've become rather accustomed to rps in GoogleDocs instead of here on Gaia. It's just a preference.
So. . . I guess this is that awkward part where I have to say goodbye to you, and thanks for reading, and that I'll miss you and I hope you always think kindly of me, right? Oh please don't go! How will I live? Think about what you're doing to me right now! Oh God. No. Don't do it! I need you!
Just kidding.
. . . Or am I? -wink-
Signature
Don't listen too close, their words are like guns.
With bullets that fly and kill what you've won.
Some love to hate, and some tell you lies.
So lets make a toast, and kiss them goodbye.
Let's take what hurts, and write it all down.
On these paper walls,
and this empty house.
And when our ink runs out, we'll burn it to the ground.
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