Thursday, November 26, 2009

Soul Control


Soul Control

That's what what I call being vegan. Especially on thanksgiving. 

While the other eight seats at the table are content eating turkey with all the fixin's, AKA murder induced plates, I had the opportunity to enlighten all of my guests of what it means/what it's like to be vegan. While they understood why I chose and follow the decisions I did, they listened contently to the catastrophic events that took place to get the turkey on their plates, the gravy on their mashed potatoes, and the dairy in their desserts. All without the flinch of an eye. Some people see the foods we eat today as "the way it is these days: you have to eat, and this is how it's done." I see the choice of going vegan as finding alternatives to eating, rather that murdering living souls to consume food for our own benefit.

I ate my hummus and edamame more than contently, while they stuffed their faces with the traditional thanksgiving foods, all contributing to murdering a soul in some way shape or form, and told them true facts about how each main course and sides got onto their plate. "But not all farms work that way....", they insisted. But they do. Farms that mass produce meat, dairy and eggs function the same way: they use the most cost effective/cheapest ways to kill/sell/deliver their profits to your plates. Especially during thanksgiving. In fact, most farms won't even shoot their livestock with guns to kill them after they have been used for all they're good for, as guns and bullets are cost effective. Slitting a throat while alive, however, is not.

This means that they "starve" the animals by not feeding them, but injecting them with only the hormones or chemicals need to make that specific animal produce more of their specific need (aka: they give cows tons of hormones to produce milk, without feeding them, all while making sure they give birth to at least one calf per year. The calf will be used for veal, and the adult cow specifically as a dairy cow, not a beef-giving cow.) Once the cow has been exhausted of food and it's body has been tormented so horrifically that it can no longer hold or bear a baby, it is killed in the most catastrophic, disgusting way possible.

For example, a dairy cow (females only, males are usually used as beef-raised cattle, or killed) is fed nothing but milk-inducing hormones/chemicals into order to produce milk at an extreme rapid rate. It is also forced pregnancy so that it can give birth to calves that will be raised/sold for veal, a horrific upbringing in its self. Once the dairy cow has been starved to death, it's milk-producing organs have been exhausted, and it can no longer function as an animal (most go insane or their bodies shut down from being abused), they are hung by one back leg from a rope which dangles from the ceiling, while still alive and conscious, their throats are slit, and they are left hanging while their bodies drain of blood. More than one hundred thousand cows are unable to walk off of the transport trucks every year, but are slughtered for human food anyway.  Some farms even go as far as skin the animals while they are sill conscious. The squirming and noises which come from their mouths are heart-wrenching. In one video I witnessed, which can be watched here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIjanhKqVC4 , 
two pigs were side by side, their throats being slit, one pig is squirming and screaming so badly, that it slips out of the rope, only to drop into the blood bath below him, sloshing around the blood of him and his hanging partner, left to die. This is all because the constant electric prodding and forced onto the killing floor, had not killed them first.

Please think about this when you sit down at your next meal. Do it for the animals, the environment, and for your health. Realize that what you're eating, is not just beef or chicken, but a true murdering and torturing of a living soul.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Bits Of Beauty


Silly things inspire me. 

The way a tarp was slung over a motorcycle in drizzling rain. It was sort of damp, but still hung just perfectly. The front tire was slightly visible, but the important parts were safe and dry. You can see the outline of the handle bars of the motorcycle, but that was the only thing that gave it shape.  I envisioned a tee shirt in my head, one that hung loose, with not one part of it being form fitting. The hem was cut a little bit sloppy, but sewn together to look finished. The back was long, and the front was cropped just enough to show the slightest bit of skin, if you moved just the right way. It was loose and free. The neckline was stretched out, and if you wore it during a long day of keeping busy, the tip of one of your shoulders just might make an appearance. 

Sitting on a bench at the park next to the lake on a perfectly crisp but warm first-week-of-November Sunday, the air seemed like it was standing still. Had I had a paintbrush, a set of paints, and a canvas, I could take six hours to paint any given object that I was looking at, and it would have stayed completely still the entire time. That's when I got an instant, huge rush to paint. I slowly walked to my car, enjoying the calm of nature which I knew I wouldn't see again for a long long time, and drove to the art store to get those exact things, a set of brushes, a fresh set of paints, and two canvas'. For the next four hours, I did nothing but mix colors, challenge my creative side. It might not mean as much for someone else looking at it, but I can't stop looking at what I've created. I think it's beautiful, even with all of the little imperfections.

Things are imperfect. And I've come to realize that it's the things that own permanent imperfections, are the things that inspire me most. My sister was telling me a story about how a mother gave birth at her hospital ten years ago. The baby was born with a disability that wouldn't allow her to communicate. In fact, the only way she could communicate, was my blinking her eyes. It took years of knowledge from the nurses and doctors taking care of her to figure out how many blinks meant what. This baby was also born looking somewhat "tangled". She was always curled up in a ball, with her fingers, hands, and arms having no real pattern. They were twisted, leaving her looking presumably uncomfortable. Because of the baby's condition, the mother was unable to take care of her. Instead of being wrapped up and taken home to her very own pink bedroom with night lights and mobiles that sang lullabies, she was transported to her new "bedroom", one with white walls and monitors that beeped. The very same mother gave birth to another baby a few years after. This one was born with a clean bill of health. Being able to take came of a functioning life, she eventually forgot about her firstborn. Visits to the hospital to see her little girl dwindled down to one day a week visits. Imagine having a child, and not caring that it knows nothing of you, while you dedicate your life to the second born. What do you say when someone asks you how many children you have? Two, kind of?

This story, after breaking my heart, reminded me of when I was in El Salvador. I went to a children's hospital, one of the only ones in El Salvador, because of the poverty, to visit the children and talk to them, play with them, paint their faces, bring them toys, make balloon animals, anything we could think of to bring a smile to their face. We were were asked to follow specific rules before we went, being told that we were not allowed to ask about brothers, sisters, or any family members. We couldn't tell them not to worry, that one day they will soon get better and go home to their family. Many of these children didn't have family, as far as they knew. Their families didn't come to visit, didn't call, didn't care. Heartbreaking.  

This inspired me to do something for kids in hospitals. Something. I have been racking my brain, trying to think of the right idea that's simple enough to do on my own, but big enough to make a huge impact on lives. I'm confident that one day, I will succeed, hopefully soon enough so that I can understand what this side of life is like, before I have my own children.

If you're inspired, take it in, and run with it. Don't think. Don't negotiate. Just do.

Current Listen: Waking Up - Amsterdam

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Attn Alts

Hot Mess

My Alt Bros (minus a few)

In The Woods photo shoot
Oh haaaay.

If you have not given your little ears the pleasure, and your little eyes the immense excitement that is abound by Grizzly Bear's video for 'Ready, Able.', I suggest you do so immediately. WARNING: You'll probably only enjoy it if you're an alt bro or girl. AKA: This is not the mainstream Lady Gaga dancing around in a leather leotard six sizes too small, with a real live peacock sitting on her head, posing as a hat. Ready, Able is the future of music videos (I hope). Alt bros all over Williamsburg will be making music videos for non-mainstream bands (their friends' band) in their artist loft that their trust fund money bought them, ironically, for free. I can only hope.

I want to own a venue. Realizing that 95% of my friends are in bands (good ones), and are always looking for places to play on tour, I can put my friends to good use and please everyone, all in one shot. My friends would have a place to play, I would be providing good (not mainstream) music for kids near and far to chill out/rage out and listen to, and I'd be making bank/hanging out with my friends all the time. Dream job? Yes. Tangible? Yes. Now who wants to be my investor...

I've been having super crazy dreams lately. Like, so vivid and real, that I wake up and literally have to think super hard if I actually just lived it or not. Even weirder ... so many of these dreams have been coming true, to a certain degree. I've been sleeping like a champion lately. I never ever get more than five hours of sleep a night, and I definitely never fall into a deep sleep during those five hours. But lately, I've been in REM mode hardcore, and I feel like a million bucks the next day. I love it. (Who wouldn't?) The one downfall? Last night, I woke up at 4am drenched in sweat (literally), and with my nose ring in my hand (I ripped it out in my sleep and was clutching it). Totally weird. I'm still bugging out from it seventeen hours later. Let's hope I don't sleep walk and try to scrub off my tattoo because I "thought it was a temporary one". 

Tomorrow is bromance night with my fave dudes. My boys DSI are playing a show tomorrow night, and things tend to get radical come a good friday night. Love their bones. 

Current Listen: Take Cover - Acceptance

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Feathers!

The much awaited,
much talked about,
feather tattoo!

Yyyyello, kidz!

Yup! Today was the day. Happy Tattoo Day!!! I was super excited all day, and surprisingly not the least bit nervous to get my tattoo today. Everyone I spoke about it to tried to psych me out, telling me that "the ribs are the worst place to get a tattoo. It hurts SO bad." Guuuurl, please. It hurt, yes, but it wasn't an unbearable, "OH EM GEE ... I can't breathe it hurts so bad. Wait one more second I seriously can't take it. It hurrrrts!!" No way. Anything poking at your little riblets at warped light speeds will make any living, breathing thing uncomfortable. However, it was definitely bearable. Maybe I just have a super high tolerance for pain, but I laid sideways though that forty five minutes of inking like a champ. GO TEAM!

I've been getting two of the same particular questions from a lot of people ...

1. Where did you get your ink done/who did it?

2. Does your tattoo mean anything?

Let me lay down the specifics, as I always do...

1. I got my tattoo done at Fun City in The Village in New York. Fun City and Daredevil Tattoo (located on the Lower East Side in New York, who I was originally going to work with, until I picked a different artist), are owned by the same owner. Both Fun City and Daredevil are famously well known for their incredible artists. I am not exaggerating by any means when I say that their artists are truly the best around. (Check out www.daredeviltattoo.com and click on "Artists" to view their work.) Claire was my artist. She's super super detailed, focused, and totally understood exactly what I wanted. And considering we were emailing each other pictures and ideas via our blackberries constantly (literally), she came up with the perfect tattoo. What's even cooler, is that she drew up the base of what my feather would be, and freehanded the rest. I love wingin' it.

2. I'm not the type of person to get something because I think it's "pretty". I always loved the whole idea of a feather tattoo - it's delicate, it's dainty, it's feminine without being annoyingly girly (aka Rose on ankle tattoo. BAH! Cliche!), and it's simple. Being a Christian, my nose is in my bible a lot. I kept coming across this one verse, and every time I read it, it struck a cord with me. Psalm 91:4 "He shall cover you with his feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge." I put two and two together, and voila, my tattoo was born. I love the simplicity of it, and I love that it has a statement to make. Everything about it wows me. As for the tattoo itself...

I could not be happier. For months, I had this vision of this feather on my ribs, picturing it in my head exactly what it was going to look like. But what I walked out with, was a tattoo that was a hundred times more beautiful that I ever could have dreamed up in my head. I love every last thing about it. She nailed it down to the littlest detail. Her shading is impeccable, the placement and size are perfect, and the outcome was beyond what I ever dreamed it could possibly look like. It's kind of hard to tell in the photo, but if you look at the middle right side of the feather, pieces of the feather are overlapping. It's not a perfectly smooth feather, it's pieced in some areas, and smooth in others. It was specially requested by me that she make the feather not a perfect feather, but one that looks like it's been through something. Those little imperfections are a reminder that even though we go through some points in our lives where its not all perfect and smooth, things get broke up and shaken up, but no matter what, it's still a beautiful outcome. 

Today was a big day for me. I realized that if you set small goals along the way, and set big goals in between the small ones, it motivates you and builds you up to be a bigger, better, faster, stronger person. It might sound silly to say, but I feel like I just took a step up on my ladder of life. I accomplished a goal that people tried to pull me away from accomplishing, simply because they judged the fact that it was a tattoo, it meant nothing more to them. My heart and my faith are in this. It means the world to me. And now I can carry it with me everywhere I go, for the rest of my life.

Current Listen: Peacebone - Animal Collective

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Get Nerdy On Set


Scarf by: Nicole Pinho, yo.

Well kids, we're down to one official day before it's tattoo day! It's been a painful, wrenching, torturous wait, and I'm down to one more day. I can't wait. Every time I think about it, I don't know if I want to throw up, or scream in excitement. Let's hope I don't do either when I sit down in that chair.

The last two weeks have been a big sloshy mess. The day after my twenty fifth birthday, I hurt my back really badly at work, lifting a mannequin. I went back to work the next day (bad idea), and ended up being out for the rest of that week. Yep. It was that bad. In fact, it's been over a week now, and it's still pretty painful. I've been doing nothing more than resting up, laying in bed for hours upon hours, and renting almost a dozen movies off Cablevision, all of which I wasn't capable of completing. Yup, just me and my muscle relaxers. Their good for nothing other than keeping you from accomplishing what you've started. Literally. I woke up with half eaten things in my lap, half drunk glasses of juice, and half typed sentences on Twitter. Out cold. Just like that.

As if that wasn't unpleasant enough, I decide to go out saturday night for halloween, you know, to be somewhat civil, and to live up my newly twenty five year old status. (I had to test it out.) Fate would have it, that ninety percent of the people at this party were either full blown sick, getting sick, or were just germy. Within the next two days, almost every single person at this rager was sick with either the Swine Flu, the Flu, or just plain old sick. As luck would have it, I, of course, having the immune system of a poodle, got some weird viral infection. Which, of course, kept me out of work for another two days. So for the past two weeks, I've been in my bed, more than I've been at work. I can't even bear the thought of what these next two paychecks might look like.

Being that I finally, in fourteen days, felt better, decided to do something fun. My friend Nick and his friend Pat needed to do a photo shoot. So, I agreed. I had so much fun jumping off sand hills, playing with sticks in the sand, and staring down squirrels. I also felt super nerdy listening to them talk about "Canons", "Nikons" and "lenses", but in a cute nerdy kind of way. Photo shoots in parks/woods are my favorite. I'll share the awesome photos once I can get my little hands on them. Promise.

Oh! I have something fun to show you! My sister, who I'm so very proud of for learning how to knit, after I failed miserably at trying to relearn how, made me this awesome, super cozy and warm eternity scarf. It's a long tube when you lay it out, but you can wear it two different ways! Check out the photos at the top of this post to check out it's awesomeness!

Current Listen: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You - Black Kids