I never liked Lent when I was a kid. It was because my family decided to eat fried perch with lard every day for the whole duration of Lent. I hate everything about this. I hate lard. I hate perch. The smell of fried perch with salt, pepper, vinegar and lard is enough to make me vomit. I actually did. The smell would hit my nose and I would immediately barf. I’d hide in the basement to escape the smell. I remember I was down there watching Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors. I didn’t even like that show very much. He-Man was better, but I’ll take Jayce over stinky fish.

If the smell doesn’t get you, then the nasty, bony texture of the fish will. My Mom’s answer to this was to force me to eat it anyway. Apparently fish and Jesus are like good friends or something. WHY, JESUS WHY!?!??!? WHY NOT A HAMBURGER OR PERHAPS A SOUP??? I puked a lot. Lent was the worst thing ever. Piles of stinky, greasy, fried fish on paper towels and no other food in the house. It’s like the lard vinegar monster started shitting out fish carcasses. To this day this smell provokes a vomit reflex.

It wasn’t all bad, though. We followed the Polish tradition of having Paczki on Mardi Gras. It’s pronounced “punch-key”. They are basically donuts with different fillings. That was awesome. I bought one at the bakery for Harknell yesterday. I might go back today to see if they have the other flavors in stock. They are so popular that most of them sell out quickly. They are only available for a few days. When I was a kid Paczki was the herald of the awful fish. Now I just buy a ton of them to give to friends and NO FISH.

What do you do to celebrate Mardi Gras?

Clothing has always been a big thing for me. This is not because I was one of those stylish, popular girls. It’s because I was the most unstylish, not-popular girl in my school. My family was poor. I was raised by my biological grandparents who had to take me in when my birth mother dumped me. They didn’t plan to have a new child, so I had to wear crap because that’s all we had.

Kids are assholes. I was pushed down the stairs, spit on, punched, dumped into garbage cans, called names, had my lunch stolen, had my money stolen. It was hilarious to them. My teachers were assholes too. They let it happen and did their best to humiliate me in other ways. Poverty begets anger. What else is left after you have experienced all of this? All I had was anger, and later anger plus the ability to fight really well. I learned to fight because I was nearly literally thrown into a pit of abuse every single day.

When I was in High School, I went goth. I’m sure this is not a surprise given my happy background. Black is easy to match. It’s easy to have outfits that go together with very little money. I took my situation and spun it into the best positive I could given the situation.

Like it or not, people judge you based on how you look. This will never change. Moving to New Jersey was a bit of a culture shock to me. Looking alternative wasn’t seen as cool here. In Pittsburgh I was able to nestle comfortably into the art scene. In New Jersey everyone hated me. People were afraid to talk to me. I no longer was just angry, I was wearing my anger on the outside. I didn’t really make any friends in college even though I was nice to everyone I met. Why would they want to be seen with the weird girl? New Jersey is about hair extensions and $200 jeans. I haven’t seen that much creativity here. I’m sure it exists, but it’s disseminated across such a large span of area that it’s nearly undetectable by myself.

To be truthful, I come from an alternative subculture and even I wonder if I’ll be treated badly when I approach gothed-out people. The reason is because I have been treated this way. Just last week I went to the Lush counter. A goth girl was working there. She was the most insulting, socially retarded person I have come across in a long time. I know she is not an absolute representation of my scene…because my friends and I are the scene too. I can see how these types of people can make “normal” people think we all are douches with a chip on our shoulder.

Sometime after 2004 I got really tired of being shouted at when I went to the mall and laughed at by passers-by. I decided to stop wearing black all the time. Frankly, I was also bored with it. How many fucking times can you put together the same black outfit and not feel like it’s a re-tread? I realized that if I were to be successful as an entrepreneur, it would be a lot easier to manipulate popular culture to my advantage. You can whine and cry as much as you want that the book shouldn’t be judged by it’s cover. You can never change the fact that you will be judged based on how you look. You can also claim that you wouldn’t want to hang out with people who would be that shallow. Everyone is that shallow, so get used to making minimum wage in that case.

It’s like I created my own method of subversive performance art. How I dress is a tool for me to get where I want to go. When I enter a room now I’m not seen as a stupid cheap slut or a juvenile delinquent sex freak. I’m seen as someone who you do not want to fuck with because she is the best there is as what she does. I can go to the mall without getting mocked. If I get bad service I can call the manager out and have polite words without trouble.

I can get through my day with less bullshit. Since making his change my salary at my dayjob has doubled. I’m the girl at the office who gets things done well. I’m the person who is called in to fix impossible situations. The room is biased in my favor, not against it. I’m rarely blamed for things I didn’t do and the things I do are often held up as examples of great work. My agoraphobia that was fueled by people mocking me all the time went away. I became stronger because I made a change that minimized bullshit. Every outfit is a costume. I just decided to calculate what the best ones were for each social situation that will get me through with maximum effectiveness.

The key to my success was letting go of the anger and being able to communicate with the natives in a physical and verbal way they are accustomed to. It’s like learning a foreign language.

I’m essentially an alternative sleeper agent. I do what I want when I want because I plan how I do it. Of course, I still have a thing for boots and hair dye, but I plan it a bit differently now. I plan it for the specific logistics of my life and my success.

I’m working on this acrylic painting. It’s almost finished. I have to go in with some inks and make the skull tree more detailed:

It’s tough to get a good shot with this computer thingy. I’ll scan it in later. It’s still wet now.

Thanks to Brian for sending over this Acapella cover of Manowar – Kings of Metal.

LOOOOOOOL!

Here is the original if you want to compare:

This is what it looks like outside my window right now. The snow has just started and we have almost 1 ft. @_@ Excuse the screen in the photo. I am NOT opening my window to get a better photo. Heh.

This is butt.