I've always considered myself a circle girl, at least growing up.  The most desirable pegs had snuggling, circular holes to inhabit, the most intriguing sports utilized rubber balls, and my favorite flavor (blue raspberry) was a delectibly mythical fruit comprised of rounded juice capsules.  Circular reasoning put a bead of distaste in my mouth for the shape, and in college I happened [by force, mind you] on the straightforward square.  After embracing my inner creative, I opted for the rounded square, a modern and progressive variant on the black-and-white rectilinear tendency. 

Despite my preferences, it seems life has afforded one consistent shape: the triangle, mascot of variation.  Damn that change.

And so it goes [he said some time ago], I bowed out almost two months ago as a food service survivor.  Thank God, my foxhole was almost swallowed by ineptitude and bad business.  With several scratches and lessons learned, I've taken to the streets. 

I want to be an art director.