Post by ZACK BAKER on Mar 16, 2009 21:00:55 GMT -5
ZACHARY A BAKER
HELLO THERE ANDY, IT IS A PLEASURE MEETING YOU! IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, HOW OLD ARE YOU? SEVENTEEN OLD? YOU SURE ARE A YOUNG THING AREN'T YOU? BY THE WAY, I HEARD YOU'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR ETERNITY. VERY IMPRESSIVE. ALSO, HOW DID YOU SAY YOU FOUND US? ADMIN, YO. LOVELY! PLUS, YOU ARE A/AN LITERATE/ADVANCED ROLEPLAYER? FANTASTIC! YOU WILL DEFINETLY BE HEARING FROM US VERY SOON! IS THERE ANYWAY WE CAN CONTACT YOU? PM OR AIM? ALRIGHT! MAKE SURE TO CHECK YOUR MESSAGES!
FROM A BALANCE BEAM!
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Like any fun loving tattoo artist our Zachary Baker has quite the interesting look about him. If I might say so myself. He’s big, not in the ‘you are what you eat’ sense, but definitely the dang you’re tall sense. Yes, this means a nice five foot eleven. All right, all right, I understand he’s no six foot two. But he can, from time to time, tower over multiple men, giving him every bit of confidence. And…he finds himself grateful for his height. No guy wants to end up shorter than a girl. And…so far he hasn’t met any single female to bring him that shame. So he has nothing to complain about. Aside from height, Zach is a fairly hefty guy. Yeah, he’s got a little chub, which, he really has no problem with. But he does hit the gym every once in a while to make sure all that muscle doesn’t go to fat. As if he would need to…the man’s out enough to not need the extra exercise.
As far as appearances go Zach maintains a pretty clean cut. With typically black colored hair, trimmed fairly short—though he often adds a little color—and a normally clean shaven face. Aside from the alterable features, his eyes are an intriguingly bright green on the outside which fade into an almost golden brown on the inside. Pretty cool right? Well…an artist needs artists eyes. At least…that was his explanation for the whole deal. Zach stands with a sort of hunch—again, an artists hunch, as he would call it—and that may be able to be scientifically proven actually…
The only explanation for the slight curvature of his upper back has to be the countless years he spent over desks, pencil in hand. But it isn’t too bad. He works out, makes sure he sits up straight any other time. He’s very conscious of this aspect of him…
As far as extra little things go…
His apparel is , yes, influenced by where he comes from: Tennessee. He wears a lot of flannel t-shirts. But apart from those he owns several band tees. It’s true, he actually has a collection. Collecting tee shirts. The obsession went from buying random artistic ones offline, to guying a plethora of band tee-shirts to simply…making his own. He’s…kinda weird like that. As far as jeans go any old jeans that fit will do. Though lately he’s been going with the kids and purchasing the straight-leg type. Finally, his shoes typically come from the vans collection, and he leans more towards slip-ons. Obviously, his skin is covered in various tattoos: sleeves on both arms a few on his upper back and a bunch on his chest. His favorites are kind of weird ones…behind each ear, fairly tiny and terribly difficult to see are little angels wings. Long story short, he feels a need to help people. Weird, huh?
And finally, the man adorns snakebites, a nose ring and ear piercings—though he doesn’t wear them much, they were the mark of a crazy childhood.
LOVER I DON'T HAVE TO LOVE!
[/FONT][/CENTER]Everyone knows the phrase, ‘no one’s perfect’. And just from knowing said phrase everyone seems to take it so seriously, pointing out any flaw they can find in just about anyone else. Creating an entire society of personality-police. We see it on TV, in magazines, in our own homes for goodness sake.
Well, people, I’ve got some terrible news for you. It would seem as though our Zachary Baker has the ideal personality.
He’s relaxed. Not spastic. He’s polite. Not rude. He’s mindful. Not nosey. He’s patient. Not irritable. But most of all he’s caring. Almost…too caring?
Yes it would seem if there had to be just one flaw in Zack’s personality it would be his insatiable need to care. In fact, the man takes it to another level. He needs to care. He needs to help people. It’s a built-in part of his personality that he can’t seem to change. Like someone might be addicting to drugs or…facebook. Zack is addicted to people. To…aiding them. And it’s less creepy and annoying than it is adorable and sweet. He’s just like one big teddy bear. Sweet and soft, and oh so huggable. And he’s mindful of how people feel and how they react to things, almost too careful. He doesn’t like to hurt people, he likes to fix people.
But aside from how he reacts to people, there’s his fun-loving side. He likes thrills and spills. Fun, basically. Outside of his job as a tattoo artist in downtown Venice Beach, he could be considered a certified dare-devil. He likes to try weird things. Such as bungee-jumping off of buildings…who does that? Zach. He’s just weird. Another one of his addictions I suppose, the man’s an adrenaline addict. If it gives him a thrill he wants to do it. And that might just be one of the only ways he meets people, outside of being their tattoo artist. Most of the people he’s ever met have been from experiences such as those. Another part of his personality: he keeps to himself. Unless he thinks you need saving then he’ll leave you alone. He doesn’t like that awkward feeling you get when someone randomly says hi so he tries not to make anyone else feel it.
If I had to sum all that up I suppose I’d say he’s all about feelings. Which…is where we meet his downfall. If he takes fun to the next level, caring to the next level, solitary to the next level. Then, yep you guessed it, he also takes sadness, depression and anger to the next level. Though he’s on pills for it—it’s that bad—if provoked, Zack has an outrageous temper. All in all he has something of an extreme personality, if you aren’t really feeling it, you’re not really living. Point blank. Case and point. Q&A. There you go.
Zachary Allen Baker is an expert in the art of emotion.
Which probably explains why he has so many addictions…
DON'T KNOW WHEN
BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
[/FONT][/CENTER]BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
“If I’m going to be honest, my childhood was terrible. All thanks to my dad. Again with the honesty, he was abusive. He hit me, he hit my mom. Without a second thought. Without any remorse. And the next day he acted as if nothing happened, as if we should be okay with it. While we cowered in fear of his presence. At first…it wasn’t angled towards me. At first he only hit my momma. He had one of those typical nine to five jobs. Hell we even looked like a typical family, nice house, dad had a nice job, kid was doing good in school, and mom stayed at home and cleaned all day. But what they didn’t know was when dad came home…with his suit on and briefcase in hand…well, what they didn’t know was his main hobby wasn’t fishing or playing ball with his boy, it was beating the shit out of his wife.
He always had the stupidest reasons: she didn’t have dinner ready, the TV was on, his boss made him stay an extra hour…anything. Mom always took it like…well like a man. She silently took each hit as he assailed her. She never got mad. She never cried. Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. And I think…that was why I snapped like I did. One day out of nowhere…I was sitting in my room on my bed, listening to him yell at her, listening to things break and glass shatter and….well I don’t really know. I guess all that pent up emotion, along with all of my mom’s emotions she never expressed…just finally became too much for me to handle. I was eleven. But I was angry. I was mad. Blind with rage. I whipped open my door, causing a hole in the wall that I would get an extra beating for later on, ran down the hall and stood there staring at them. He stopped long enough to look up at me and laugh. “Go to your room boy.” That was al he said. And all I said was, no. And then…he snapped. He chased me back to my room and proceeded to do exactly to me what he’d been doing to my mother. While she tried to pull him off of me.
That was the most pain I’d ever felt in my entire life.
More of the same continued for the few years following. When I turned thirteen I discovered my little talent. I was in my mom’s room looking for something…I really don’t remember what, and when I went through her closet my hand brushed past one of my dads jackets and…well I thought it felt soft. I weird… I was young, and within the last few years I’d blown everything out of proportion, such as the feeling of his jacket. I stopped and came back to smell it—weird and random I know—well, when I did I saw something. My mind shifted and with what felt like a train hitting me full on a scene played on reverse in my mind. It took me through the night and the day previous…showing my dad, with another woman. When I snapped out of it I didn’t understand what had just happened...I assumed some higher power loved me…a lot. Took pity on me, or something. When my dad came home I asked him about it. Yeah, stupid right? Well, he was pretending like everything was ok…so I assumed he might be ok about it.
He freaked out.
Everything got worse as the years dragged on. I made use of this ability…which I discovered wasn’t just an occurrence but something I could do whenever I wanted. When I turned fifteen I came home to…well, my mom sitting along there on the couch. She told me he was gone. And…I went and sat with her. We sat there, in silence for hours. And he never came home. I felt, for the first time in my life, happy. We moved, to another, smaller, house closer to town. Mom got a job, as a nurse—she had a degree and a job before she met my dad, who was awfully provincial and thought my mom shouldn’t have a job.
Finally happy, I started focusing more on my life. I figured I’d successfully helped my mother, everything was ok. So…like any teenager, I hit the rebellious phase. Except...i took it to another extreme. I got caught up with the wrong kids. I liked hardcore music, drugs, alcohol, sex—especially sex. But not only that, I discovered I could draw. Really well. My mom invested in all this stuff for me. Pencils, pens, paints, books, an easel. She loved it. Though that was the only way she showed it. My mom remained extremely emotionless. I guess I should’ve paid for attention to her…because I definitely didn’t see what came next. My mom was admitted to a mental hospital my senior year of high school. I was seventeen. I got a job…but they wouldn’t let me live alone. I was still a minor. I was put in the foster care program. Only for a few months. And I lived with this extremely religious couple for those few months before I turned eighteen. Which, only fueled my need for rebellion more. I got tattoos. And…that was when I discovered I liked tattoos. I liked them a lot. And hell, I could draw.
When I finally got out of that house I took what money I had—I had eventually got a job—and moved to Venice Beach. But not after seeing my mom. They said she’d probably never get out, she wasn’t going getting better. But…she seemed fine when I saw her. Anyway, it was seeing her like that that made me want to stop all the silly teenage fetishes. There were so many people there with her that had messed up brains due to drug abuse, or people addicted to sex…I didn’t want any of that. So I dropped all of that. Though…if you knew me now you’d see not much looks like it changed. But I’ve been sober for years, and I haven’t had a date for more than that. Though…I still get tattoos.
In Venice I quickly got a job as a tattoo artist, got my own apartment, and became one of the best tattoo artists in southern California.
It was a few years ago that I met Madeline Pascal. I haven’t read any of her stuff, but I don’t need to. She tells me all about her work. I’ve been her tattoo artist for as long as I’ve known her. She really is beautiful…but kind of quiet. And if I’m not mistaken that accent comes from France. Anyway…I feel this strange need to know what’s up with her. And it doesn’t help that I think she might be suicidal.
I think…I think I really need to help her.”
I BELIEVE IN SYMMETRY!
[/FONT][/CENTER]HEYO! THIS IS ZACHARY ALLEN BAKER BUT EVERYONE CALLS ME ZACK, BAKER OR NASHVILLE. I'M FROM NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE AND AM TWENTY-FOUR. PSSHT! I'M ALSO PART OF THE SNIFFS AND I AM DAMN PROUD OF IT, BABEH! MESS WITH THEM AND I MESS WITH CHU! BUT DON'T WORRY, I'M STILL SINGLE, SO ALL YOU LADIES CAN HAVE A PIECE OF THE MAGNIFICENT ME! PEOPLE EVEN SAY I LOOK LIKE ZACKY VENGEANCE SO OBVIOUSLY, YOU'LL BE HAVING SOME FUN! MAKE SURE YOU KEEP IN TOUCH, YO! BECAUSE NOONE CAN HANDLE THIS AWESOME MAN-DUDE!
AT THE BOTTOM OF EVERYTHING!
[/FONT][/CENTER][/SUB]THIS APPLICATION TEMPLATE WAS CREATED BY STEPH ACE OF VOGUE! STEAL WITHOUT KEEPING THE CREDITS AND SHE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN, RIP YOU OPENED, AND FEED YOU TO NASH C: SO BE KEWL AND KEEP THE CRED! CREDIT TO LYRICS GOES TO BRIGHT EYES-ONE OF THE MOST INSPIRATIONAL BANDS ON THE PLANET EARTH-SCRATCH THAT-UNIVERSE!
