With regards to the activity I am entrusted to justify my commercial worthiness in this rat race, in short occupation, referencing from the gaming senario, I am currently a level 27 mercenary, making my third stop since the days of mandatory training in a James Cameron's Avatar world, where the only blemish emanate from the fact that the Na'vis are coated in emerald shade. The organisation in which I am currently bestowing my services, specialises in undertakings along and beyond the perimeter of any coastal nation, with the majority materializing in the basement of the bulkiest continent. As for me, my jobscope is pretty much simpler. It comprises of administrating, preparing, recording, counting, checking, receiving, keeping, distributing, making, managing, maintaining, controlling, communicating, charts/reports-producing of all information and documents pertaining to... well, the "roots of all evil".
Spiritually, I am not consigned to any Divine Being. I am not an advocate of the life after death theory, yet at the same time I place my confidence in reincarnation. I do not believe in the existence of the world of magical clouds with angels strumming harp-strings and the realm of scorching volcanic flames excruciating badass souls, yet again at the same time I will throw my hat in to justify the presence of additional dimensions (the third, fourth and others to power of n). And in the event of a clock striking thirteen times, I will seize the nearest Bible, Qur'an or Buddhist Mantras and frantically utter various phrases, before heading to the telephone and dial for the technician.
Diverting the subject to my present relationship status, I am considerably fortunate to evade the possibility of a bad romance, yet catastrophic enough not to plunge into a love-game. Perhaps this is the repercussion of having a poker-face; perhaps it might be the fact that I am unable to "just-dance" proficiently; or even perhaps I am not as suave-looking as Alejandro (who the hell is he?!). Nonetheless, I am born this way and hence not able to alter my DNA to go gaga in order to seek a paparrazi. No! I mean Monster. No! I mean Bloody Mary. No no no!!! I mean Heavy Metal Lover (What the hell Lady Gaga! Can't you name your song as the Sweet Alluring Lover?!!!)