Ⓥ Riley and Petunia

I've mentioned Riley and Tuni here on several occasions, but I don't think I have ever told their whole back-story. To be honest, I don't even know their whole back-story, but I can tell you what I do know and the story of how they came to live with me. You probably already know that they were both rescued by Farm Sanctuary, and that I met them there during my first internship. I don't think I've really told you much more than that though.

They were both rescued by the Watkins Glen shelter when they were very young, Petunia was still drinking from a bottle when I first met her, and they had both been very small and very sickly. I think most people don't realize how large pigs actually get, if allowed to live long enough, but despite the fact that I would guess Riley to be at least 400 pounds and Tuni is only slightly smaller, they aren't nearly as large as most of the pigs I met at Farm Sanctuary, due to their poor health when they little.

Riley developed a severe infection shortly after he was born. He was nonetheless taken to a stock sale, where he was simply ignored because no one wanted to buy a sick piglet. Farm Sanctuary found him and took him to an animal hospital, but the infection had already spread to his ear and eye. He eventually recovered, but he lost the eye, and still has trouble hearing. When I met him, he was living with two other pigs and seemed to be doing very well physically, but was having trouble socially because of his size and disability. They decided that the best thing would be for him to be adopted out so that he wouldn't be picked on by other pigs.

Petunia was born with a hernia, and was also significantly smaller than her brothers and sisters. The farmer decided to "donate" her to Cornell's veterinary program so that they could use her to teach the students about hernia surgery. Luckily, Farm Sanctuary has a good relationship with Cornell because they take so many animals there. So Cornell told Farm Sanctuary about Petunia, and said that they would save her life, as opposed to just using her for practice, as long as Farm Sanctuary took her in and paid for the surgery. When I started my internship, she was living in the office because she was much too small to be out with the other pigs. Everyone at the sanctuary was completely in love with her because she was just so full of energy. She loved people and was constantly jumping around and squeaking, trying to get everyone's attention. Since it was pretty obvious that her growth would be stunted, they though that she too would be better off someplace where she wouldn't have to worry about fighting off larger pigs.

It was shortly before my internship ended that I heard that Riley and Tuni were going to be adopted out, and I had gotten so attached to both of them that I instantly called my dad to talk to him about whether or not we could get a place ready for them in time. He agreed to help me, and I went to talk to the director about it. She told me that I was the first intern who had ever adopted one of the animals, other than a few cats over the years. I went back home for a couple of months so that my dad and I could build a barn and fence off an acre of land for them. Then Farm Sanctuary sent two guys with a huge trailer to bring them to West Virginia.

So that's the story of Riley and Tuni, and how they came to live with me. They are both in very good health these days and, aside from fighting over food, they seem to be pretty happy together most of the time.

That's Riley in the front, and Tuni's ear sticking up behind him.

I'm Living in a Horror Movie

I haven't used my punching bag for a long time, because I fucked up my hand a while back, and using the punching bag was stopping it from healing properly. Meanwhile, I have recently noticed these weird little weevil-like bugs in my workout room. I hadn't been all that bothered by them, because there were only a few of them, here and there, plus they're tiny. I had noticed though that they like to hang out on my punching bag, but I didn't really think much of it.

Well, today I decided that my hand was finally healed enough that I could use the bag again. So I spent a few minutes with it, at the end of my workout. As I'm leaving the room, I look up at the top of the bag and there are literally hundreds of the little weevil bugs crawling out of the zipper! I just sort of stood there in shock for a minute and then I noticed this strange, very quiet, rustling noise. I leaned my ear a little closer to the bag and realized it was coming from inside. I'm fairly certain the whole thing is completely full of bugs! There must be thousands of them in there, and I clearly pissed them all off by punching them.

Here's the best part, I couldn't really do anything about it. I would have liked to take the thing outside and dump it out, but it weighs 100 pounds and is hanging from the ceiling; I could move it by myself, but I'm afraid that if I jostle it too much trying to get it down from the ceiling, or down the stairs the bugs will get even angrier and swarm me. I mean, they're not very threatening as individuals, but when you get that many of them together.......no thanks. So I guess I'll have to get my dad to help me carry the thing outside, and just hope that we can be gentle enough that they won't know what's going on. Also, I really hope that the ones who came out today go back inside instead of spreading out all over my room.

Seriously, how did my life turn into everyone's least favorite episode of Supernatural? 

So Close....

I actually attempted to make a video for you guys today but, alas, I've failed yet again. Well, I did actually make a video, at least in theory, but I still can't post it.

You see, I have encountered a few issues which I was not aware of when I had this whole video blog idea. 1- I'm thinking that, despite it's durability (which is why I bought it), a GoPro was probably not my best option. It turns out it has neither a playback option, nor a viewfinder of any kind. In order to know what you have been filming, you have to upload the video and watch it on your computer. Which means that the video I filmed today my have been of my own knees, for all I know. 2- I wasn't thinking about the fact that I would need video editing software. I'm still not certain, but I don't think I can actually get it on this computer, since it's not a real computer (It's a Chromebook). So it looks like I may have to download the software on my mom's computer and edit them from there. Why exactly is it that everything I try to do turns out to be a giant pain in the ass?

Perhaps I should have just gone all-out with my equipment like the Ghostfacers. 

Necessities

Do you have certain things that you absolutely need in order to feel good about yourself? Like random, stupid little things that (for some reason) have an inordinate amount of influence on your self-esteem? Because I definitely do. I mean, I knew this about myself. I've always spent a great deal of time and energy doing things simply because they make me feel better about myself. I did not realize until this weekend though, how crucial mascara is to my self-image. I know it's stupid, but apparently eyelashes are very important to me.

I normally buy all of my makeup online, mostly from e.l.f. because they are cheap, non-animal tested, and vegan (which, in case you didn't know, is almost unheard-of), plus I just really like their stuff. This last time, I accidentally ordered the wrong kind of mascara, and then spent the entire weekend feeling ridiculously self-conscious. It just wasn't the same as the one I normally use, and made my lashes show up about half as much as they normally do. Of all the things that I could base my feelings about my appearance on, I really don't know why I would choose the one thing that people are probably the least likely to notice, but that's apparently what I did. Anyway, I finally went to Target and just hoped that they had the kind I wanted; luckily they did or I would be really freaking out right now. 

This ^ is the good one.

 

Two in a Row

Amazingly enough, Saturday actually ended up being a pretty good day too. My mom, my sister, and I went to Seneca Rocks. I had never been there before, and it was a really pretty place. We walked through the woods, and I climbed some grape vines while they mostly pretended not to know me. It was nice to actually do something outside. Plus, my sister got some great pictures. Also, we saw a mink, which was pretty cool. Well, they saw a mink, I saw a dark brown smudge, because I wasn't wearing my glasses but still pretty cool. On the way back, we stopped to eat at the Purple Fiddle. Again, they ate, I didn't. It has a pleasant atmosphere though, so I still enjoyed it. Anyway, we ended up staying out until like 11:00, and we barely bitched at each other at all. So yeah, pretty good day.

And, to be honest, yesterday really wasn't too bad either. I went with my sister to buy some clothes for her new job, and we actually found everything we were looking for. Now today.....Oh well, I guess a whole weekend without feeling like my life is a pile of shit was about as much as I should have hoped for anyway.

Still Flying

Sorry there was no post yesterday, my mom, my sister, and I were gone all day and didn't get back until it was way too late for me to care enough to write anything. Anyway, I'm going to go ahead and write what I was going to write yesterday.

Friday was a pretty good day, overall.
1- My friend Rachel helped my get some stuff figured out about my blog so that I can make it seem more like a real website. I now know how to add new pages, so that it can be more than just a blog. And I may even be able to sell stuff from here, so I won't have to go through Etsy anymore. So if anyone has any suggestion about things they would like to see here, let me know.

2- Rachel, my sister, and I then went to see Age of Ultron which was fantastic! I would just like to thank Marvel for this exchange as the opening lines of the movie..
Tony- Shit.
Steve- Language!

3- My sister went to class with me, which was pretty fun. Even though I think she kind of hated it. We worked more on footwork, so nothing terribly exciting, but it went well.

4- My SD card finally came so, if I can figure out how to do it, I am actually capable of making videos now.

Mal and I have similar ideas about what constitutes a good day. 

Ⓥ "Art"

Last weekend, my sister and I went to an art/craft sale in Morgantown. I took my jewelry and she took some of her photographs. The idea of the sale was to get some exposure for local artists. I have always thought of myself as a creative person, but not necessarily an artist. I have never been entirely certain about what actually classifies something as"art". It has always been my opinion that art should have a message, a goal, something to say, as well as an appeal.

Of course, whether or not there is a message present in a certain piece is pretty subjective. I know there are people who see deep meaning in things that I don't. I also know that there are plenty of people who don't like the kind of things that I make; my jewelry, poetry, etc. So I try to refrain from criticizing other people's art. However, there are some times when I think criticism is forgivable.

There was one person at the sale who brought a puzzle (not a hand-made puzzle, but one that they bought and put together) of a baby pig, with letters cut out of a magazine and glued to it. The letters read "When I grow up I want to taste great." I'm sorry, but that is not art. If it had been intended to, in some way, shed light on the absurdity of that statement, then sure. But I don't believe it was, and anything that does nothing but shamelessly defend the status quo, with absolutely no justification or alternate perspective, earns no artistic merit. As far as I'm concerned, this is the artistic equivalent of replying "Mmmmmm bacon" to a logical debate.

I have also recently seen many stories online about various "artists" torturing and killing animals to use in their art. Anything that requires the suffering of another being is also devoid of artistic value. I have seen artists who use their own bodies for their art, sometimes inflicting great pain on themselves in the process, and this I feel can truly be called art. To sacrifice your own body, or comfort, for the sake of expressing your message to the world shows true commitment to that message. To use the body of another in that way, only conveys your own sadism.

In my opinion, true art should have a soul, a conscience. It should have empathy and compassion, that is what gives it its power. Art without those things is empty, meaningless. Art should open our eyes; make us see things differently. It should make us want to be better people.

My favorite piece, by one of my favorite artists, Amanda Moeckel.