What to do when a bird gets stuck in your house

31 July 2008, 1:23 pm
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and if

bird = brother


house = military?

anyone in the ether have any ideas about that one?


guilty pleasures, of
22 July 2008, 7:13 pm
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I love Wheel of Fortune. I do not love Pat or Vanna. But to be on the show = one of my life’s goals

This is self-disclosure of the worst kind.

greener, meet other side
22 July 2008, 2:10 pm
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Hey ladies,

I cut the boy off of this message. Sorry boy. But you ain’t a lady.

Lola, thank you thank you for the update. I know how difficult it must be to take the jumble and shape it into words, but even though we don’t say it enough, we appreciate the updates and a part of every waking minute is with an eye and a heartbeat towards you. I’m glad you’ve got the fam around, that your mom knows what an embrace she’s in, that you have two beautiful children around to remind everyone what it’s all about.

And hey, I don’t think one can ever classify “my mom has a brain tumor” as blah. Just sayin.

Update from here: not a helluva a lot these days, just summer in the city. It’s been beautiful, lovely, full of exploring the town and looking at snow-capped mountains. Some hiking, some evenings with friends (some 4th-of-Julyness with the aforementioned Mr. O…). I’m in a quiet-style job right now, in an org that is in a serious phase of transition and I don’t feel like I’ve put in the time to make these growing pains worth it. I feel a bit demoted, after the glamor of W Africa (W Africa? Glamorous? Well, you know what I mean. Authority. Capability. Praise. It’s hard to become a worker bee after all that. After the adventure of that place. It’s hard not to have the itch to travel, be dirty and exhausted and challenged and fully fully present. It’s hard to contemplate starting a blog, to work on it during worktime.) Hence the job application yesterday (greener, meet other side), hence the daydreaming out the window.

But these are the angsts of an extremely privileged woman. Remember this above all else.

Also, the pull to move. Yeah, the whole fam wants to go and the thought of actually buying a house and having chickens and being near family (not in that order) is real. I think it’s the ovaries calling. Such a fucking cliche, about to turn 29 and becoming obsessed with studies about older pregnancies = autism. Seriously? Do you even WANT kids? R’s been nesting more these days too, looking at the university as a future career. I (gently) remind of the (half? third?) not-quite finished phd. Somehow my professional prospects are added on as an afterthought. Oh well. I could always write letters to the editor. Or follow the dream of young adult lit, right? Everett, you wanna be my co-author in crime?

Ok. Is it time? It may be time. With great freedom comes great responsibility. Time to figure out the “great” part.

I love you all. Like nothing else. Lola, hug your mom extra from me.


when the bird’s name begins with imf
22 July 2008, 1:36 pm
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hmmm. I am just unable to tear my eyes away from this bird.

Source: http://medicine.plosjournals.org/perlserv/?request=get-document&doi=10.1371/journal.pmed.0050143

18 July 2008, 3:11 pm
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So, yes, what then to do? You’ve got this bird stuck in your house, you are questioning the one decision that you’ve actually made in the last three years (you secretly let the bird in, you secretly love it even as it caws and beats its wings on the walls, even as it races to wake up the sun. But you love it, fiercely, decided to – but are also, flagrantly, loathe to speak its name), and all the windows are made out of stones.

You are, of course, fucked.

Welcome to the world, dear, and thanks for seeing your life like it was a piece of paper, folded up in fourths.

17 July 2008, 9:30 pm
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Scope of project: 16 pages? That would be 8 pieces of paper, folded in half. Maybe just half that – four pages, folded in half. Or two pages, folded two times. Something small, shall we say?, birdlike.

Origin story.

Opening scene: close up of an eye from the side. The house in this episode is the house of the mind (muhaha) and the bird getting stuck is of the malevolent variety. Cheesey Rush song. What malevolent bird? Crow is the classic choice. Fuckers. Swooping at your head.

Next: What to do to get it out. This presents a challenge because what to do if a bird gets stuck in your head? You can’t exactly pound it out, open up your skull to let it fly out. How did it get there in the first place? Is this a topic to explore? The origins story. A la creation myth. Why we are.

La Familia: The beginning of it focuses on the creation of the bird, how it flew in in the first place, where it came from, all the rest. If it has brothers and sisters, kid birds. What it was like in birdland, if it was better (and the flying into the head was just a mistake, regretted) or worse (the bird is a refugee, a squatter, and you feel like an asshole for kicking it out).

Now we’re getting somewhere: How the person created the idea of the bird. What space the bird fills in the person’s life, if it’s helpful or harmful. How much attention, diverted, paid to it.  What will happen when the mortgage payment is due?

The kicker of it is that the bird has actually created the house. Need to come up with a way of deconstructing the image to go from a polished people-looking person to one made out of sticks, Styrofoam, bits of shoelace.

End: In progress.