It all started with me wanting to buy a vintage veil hat and not being able to find what I was looking for. So I decided to make my own.


No, I'm not a Neo-Nazi, I'm just someone who likes doing provocative art, and not afraid to in that sense, and who happens to be into Militaria.







This will remain unexplained by me, not feeling the need to fear if people may get offended, whereas it will be unappreciated by some of you. I never bothered to explain my art, and I never will. I have no excuses to give to anybody, not do I have any desire to make excuses.




Do you think this is ''okay''? Shouldn't art never be censored?

I've been having a crappy summer due to my lack of discipline and extreme poor ability to do things on time and I take the full blame for everything. Yes, mom, I do.

ALSO, I've been painting a lot lately. That's my secret true identity, ''a painter''. I bet you didn't see that coming lol. Anyway, I love taking my sweet-ass time doing pretty much everything (see the beginning sentence of this journal) so I'm slowly trying to put together a portfolio of paintings. I'm going to upload some pictures of the finished art as soon as I renew my subscription thingy on here. All the subscription thingies here and there add up, you know? A little understanding, please.


I got a few photography ideas I put together too, and I will get to them soon.



Here are some links for you; dear people


Facebook: [link]
Myspace: [link]
Twitter: [link]




STOP! i'm not done yet. I've come to realize that...



I don't like ice cream.



Okay, bye.

I happened to get myself involved with a moron who isn't handling rejection very well. He somehow found this page, which I carefully do not give to anyone who does not appreciate any form of art if you poked them in the eye with. These people mostly consist of the Turkish community, as much as that may sound bad, it is unfortunately true. I am not wrapping an American flag on my shoulders and running around screaming ''God bless America'' but sadly I am in fact isolating myself from where I was born. According to this moron, I am a dirty whore for taking photos of myself, which are done in a tastefully manner and they certainly contain no boobies [that is also 100% cool in my point of view]. Oh by the way,he had found my photo page and downloaded all my photos :GASP: Aren't I just a shame to my family? Oh and apparently my signature [''Don't just stare at it, eat it!'' which is a contribute to my favorite movie and the book, American Psycho] is indicating that I'm asking guys to eat me. Um, so, yeah. Eat me.


Anyway, moving on.



I'm oh so excited for the Lamb of God show on May 8th, in New York. Any body going? I will be wearing my very first wrist band and buying my own drinks. I'm working on my evil plot to catch attention of Randy and get married to him.





I think I'm going through mid-life crisis.

I often worry when I realize I never do worry just about anything. For the past 2 years my only concern has been what color my hair is going to be next, which is unexpected considering I'm not one of those yellow-tanned Long Islander's. I think about fitting in. Different groups of kids in high school, all bunched up in between periods; even losers had their own group that they ''fit in''. Was it because that people pretend to be certain way to fit in? Put on a Slipknot shirt and a black lipstick, so they can stay after school and not have to go back to their horrible families right away. I know this because the very first friend I had ever made after years was a kid who continuously asked me to sit at their table at lunch period every day because I dressed like them. I think about what shapes people's personalities and what can be forced onto children so they can be good people but then I remember making my dad buy me a ring with skulls on it when I was 11 years old and come to realize society really has no permanent effect on kids. I give thinking to serial-killers and wonder if anybody is really born a serial-killer, wake up one day and realize they want to kill people for a living? Humanity fancy blaming others for their own mistakes and I relentlessly try to come up with ''someone'' who could've been responsible for my flaws but there really isn't anyone. My family is lovely, I never had financial problems bad enough nor was I ever ugly or fat. It really comes down to the feeling of eternal hunger and always needing more. I sometimes think about my old best friend who practically stopped talking to me over nothing and how I really wish she'd never be happy again and everything else I can't really tell people about. I think about my best and only friend and wonder if she would ever fuck any of my boyfriends in the future.

I sometimes think about that kid who was in love with me in 8th grade, what his name was, his blonde hair and hazel eyes. That piece of wood he shaped nicely and carved my name on in one of his classes that I proudly laughed at with my girlfriends, broke in half and tossed out the window where he was playing soccer with other kids. I wonder if we'd be married now and live happily ever after if I hadn't make him cry and run home on the last day of Junior High because I refused to have my picture taken by his friend on his request since he was too shy to come and ask me himself. I think about that picture of me that was never taken and what it would look like, if he'd still have it to this day.

Everyday I think about how I got over my ex-boyfriend, then wonder if I think about that everyday, would it mean I actually didn't get over him? I think about the necklace I don't wear anymore which he put around my neck that his nurse gave him when he almost died at the hospital and consider throwing it out. I think about the night he rode his bicycle to see me for 4 hours and wonder if he actually ever cared about me.

I often think about how my personality can disgust me most of the time, all the things I can do, the fact that I have absolutely no self-guilt, then I realize how honest I am with myself and once again, I love myself.

Watchmen=The worst movie ever


How could a movie that looked so cool be so bad?



We sat in the movie theatre for over 3 hours; movie being ridiculously long as if it was actually not bad enough to make you feel suicidal, and we also arrived mad early to get seats because all the show-times were sold out.




There's no plot to the movie. Even if there was, I must've missed it because I was busy staring at the Blue Guy's bare dick the entire movie.