birds

Anybody who knows me will say that I might be a little obsessed with birds. Actually, I might be a lot obsessed with birds. When I was fifteen years old, I started volunteering at the local aviary. I learned how to work with a variety of birds such as hawks, eagles, parrots, emus, pelicans, and toucans. We trained them, fed them, played with them, and cleaned up a lot of bird shit. I fell in love with the class known as Aves. I volunteered and eventually worked at the aviary for three years before I said my goodbyes and went to college, where I started working in an avian lab that specializes in Columbiformes.

I have a little flock of my own at home composed of six birds between myself and my roommate. She has an African Grey, an Eclectus parrot, and a Lovebird while I myself am owned by a Cockatiel and a Turquoise Green-Cheeked Conure. Now I'm going to bore you all with how much I adore my birds.



This is Manny Calavera. He's named after this game. I got him the summer before senior year of high school as a hand-fed baby. I was originally going to get another baby I'd seen from his same clutch, but when I saw his adorable cinnamon color and his friendly demeanor, I fell in love. The breeder told me that he was the only baby that waited for her at the very front of the cage, peeping to be let out every morning before being fed. I took him home to his cage and let him settle in for the night. The next day we were the best of friends.

Manny is SO CUTE. I love cockatiels. I LOVE COCKATIELS. At first I thought I wanted a Lovebird for many years, but then changed my mind at the last minute. He knows how to say, "step up", "good boy", "hey baby boy", "gimme a kiss", and something else garbled that I can't make out (but I'd like to think that it's "I love you"). He's an amazing flier, despite never having learned, due to his amazing cockatiel primaries. His favorite game is "the sound game", which is a game where I start out with a sound (or he starts out with it) and then he copies it (or I copy it). We do this for awhile until one of us changes the sound. I tried to get it on video, but Manny's too camera shy (he can ALWAYS tell when there's a camera out. Always). Basically, he's the perfect bird. Except for the fact that's he a scaredy cat and can fly all too well, so there's always the fear that he'll fly away (which happened once and it was terrifying).



His favorite place is sitting on top of my laptop.





Nicknames include Manny, Mr. Man, Man, and Manners



This is Maeby Baby (or just Maeby). At first, I was convinced that she was a he, so I named her Vlad. She remained Vlad for a few months until the breeder called me with her sexing results to let me know that she was female. She is exhausting but entertaining. As much as Manny was a perfect first bird, she is a handful of a second. Conures are known for being little clowns, but I never realized how incredibly full of...personality Maeby would be. Especially Maeby since she's a Green-Cheeked and they are known for being pushy. Pushy, bossy, and bitchy. But I love Maeby Baby A LOT. Her favorite game to play is one where I put one of her jingly balls (yeah, laugh it up) on top of her cage and she throws it off. Or pushes it around for a bit playing "beak ball" and then chucks it off. I pick it up and it restarts the cycle. She also enjoys plunging headfirst into my macaroni, climbing up my pant-leg like an arctic explorer, and ripping up my physics homework . She often gets tangled in my hair, from which I have to excavate her while she bites me.





She also really loves head rubs.



So there are my birds! I have been neglecting them as of late by leaving them in their cages all the time while I frantically rush around going to school, work, doing homework at my favorite coffee shop since I can't focus at home, and (rarely) exercising. But my new goal is to have them out every day for at least an hour. Never past eight though, since that's "technically" their bedtime. I'll just have to start doing some homework at home and force myself to focus so they can be out and playing while I get things done. I also want to do enrichment twice a week for both of them. Probably Tuesdays and Thursdays. This includes foraging for Manny, foot toys for Maeby, games I play with them, etc. Also training on these days, Manny trick-training and Maeby basic manners (she still struggles with those).

I'm excited to get this rolling.

the smell

Yesterday, when working in the bird rooms (which are located in the basement), I smelled something awful. It smelled like cream of broccoli soup. But it also smelled like death.

TODAY when I entered the biology building, the smell was back. But TEN TIMES WORSE. I wanted to die, it smelled overwhelmingly of steamed broccoli. I later learned that this smell was being caused by two dead wolves. A PI who studies dogs left them in a giant chest freezer being kept in the basement that went down two weeks ago. I don't know why no one realized this, since there were TWO WHOLE WOLVES beginning to rot. I'm surprised that those freezers had no alarm systems on them or anybody checking them daily because, once again, THERE WERE TWO WHOLE WOLVES in there. Nobody wants to smell their rotting carcasses. The animal care team investigated the smell earlier today and, apparently, the wolves were completely green when found. GROSS.

I will forever think of this.

80s Night

There is a night here in Salt Lake. It is called Thursday night by most. But by me, it is called...



80s night comes only once a week, so it must be celebrated. It's held at a sketchy club that looks like someone took a couple of corrugated cardboard refrigerator boxes and stuck them together with packing tape and it's located in between a homeless shelter and a Java Joe's coffee shack. 80s night itself is held on the upper floor of this club, where there is a large dance floor, multiple stages, and cages to dance in. Smoke machines, rainbow light fixtures, and strobes create an atmosphere of multi-colored mist so thick it's hard to tell where you are in relation with the floor sometimes.

It's the real deal.

I went with my friend Raphael (female, real name Claire, to clear up any confusion) just last week after a couple of months of not attending. I'd forgotten how fun it is. The excitement of dressing up, the excuse to slather on ridiculous amounts of eyeliner and sparkly eyeshadow, and then the actual act of sprinting from your car (which you had to park a mile away in order to avoid the ridiculous costs of parking anywhere near the club) through the frigid night air and then standing in line to pay your cover fee and get your ID scanned as you hear the bass pulse upstairs.

Usually when I dress up for 80s night, I just put on whatever I find first in my closet. This involves combinations of bright colors that should never appear on a human body normally (unless they are trying to attract a mate of an opposite species, such as a tropical fish) and usually spandex of some kind. This particular 80s night I was caught wearing neon purple tights, black hot pants (as Ke$ha and my mother call them), a turquoise tank top, and a hot pink sports bra. Not to brag, but I can rock a side ponytail, so that's the go-to for 80s night action, as well as an incredible amount of gold and purple eyeshadow and seven coats of mascara. Raphael went for the futuristic 80s look with silver leggings, a black off-the-shoulder shirt, and Catwoman-esque eyeliner. While we were watching Aliens (to prepare for our night of 80s), Raphael began to dig some heels out of her closet. This is (more or less) the conversation that took place:

Otter: ...What are you doing?
Raphael: I'm choosing a pair of heels to wear to 80s night.
Otter: Believe me, you do NOT want to wear heels while dancing. You will die.
Raphael: But I live in heels.
Otter: Not at 80s night you don't.

I eventually convinced her to wear some black, converse-like shoes that looked quite 80s anyway. I told her that she would be ecstatic that she had not worn heels when we were an hour into dancing, which she agreed with. 80s night itself is amazing. The only songs played are 80s pop, such as Depeche Mode, Erasure, and Madonna. Favorite songs played last Thursday were "Two of Hearts" by Stacey Q, "Stop" by Erasure, and then "Dance Magic" by David Bowie. I love dancing. The best place to dance at 80s night is on the upper stage, because vents from the ceiling pour in cool air from outside and I feel like there are less creepers on the upper stage.

This brings me to my character study of 80s night. First we have the classic douche and/or popular male.



This composes about 80 percent of the male population that goes to 80s night. These are the guys that wear bright colored muscle shirts, or in the unlucky case of summer, no shirts at all. They usually wear sunglasses inside of the club (which makes no sense, but I have also been known to do the same thing...like last thursday). They come in packs that either have come with their own girls, or they hunt girls collectively. Like wolves. They are all entirely full of themselves and do things like pin girls violently against the wall to make out with them (though usually the girls are willing) and breakdance to Thriller. No real threat unless you're alone and are approached by a group of them. Or if they're shirtless and you accidentally back into one. It's like touching a portable swamp.

Next we have the awkward sidestanders.



They would be harmless if they weren't so damn creepy. They do not wear 80s costumes, which immediately pinpoints them for suspicion. ESPECIALLY among the female population. This does not bode well for them, because they usually only come to 80s night with the thought in their mind that THEY ARE GOING TO GET A GIRLFRIEND. Or maybe hookup, but I feel like mostly they have this idea that they will most definitely find the love of their life. Good for them for going out to a themed night at the club, not in appropriate costume, and then standing awkwardly in the background as everyone else dances around them. ALONE. They never come with friends. They always come alone. Sometimes they make attempts to dance with small groups of girls, and this dancing entails the rumba. And maybe sometimes Cossack dancing.

Now we come to the girls.



First we have about 70 percent of the female population of 80s night (and the only reason that 100% of the male population comes). These girls sometimes dress 80s, and sometimes just try to wear as little clothing as possible. It's hard to tell either way (and either way, it doesn't bother me). They dance in close knit groups, looking around the room distractedly as a song they probably don't know blares in the background. When they make eye contact with a male they fancy, they immediately display interest by doing the awkward "breaking away from their girl group and then slightly dancing toward the male in question, who also breaks away from his group and prances toward her slowly until they are right up on each other" dance. Later on, the two can be found inside of a cage with the aforementioned male grinding on her ass in a syncopated motion. While these girls always at least have SOME sense of rhythm, usually the guy they're dancing with does not, which yields hilariously offbeat grinding.

Next, we have the normals.



These are girls who found out about 80s night on the way home from work or decided that it would be a really fun night to go to. They usually come in groups of five or so girls, none of whom have ever actually been to 80s night. When they arrive in their work clothes or jeans and J-crew V-neck T-shirts, they are a little bit stunned by the amount of color and leg warmers presented to them. They feel a little bit foolish at not dressing up (one of the only environments in which this thought goes through someone's mind first as opposed to the thought that dressing up was a stupid thing to do). These girls often get pretty into it though, and enjoy themselves thoroughly. Sometimes, they leave after an hour, thinking that the night had been pretty fun, but maybe too wild for them. Other times, they stay until 2 A.M., having found their new passion in life.

God I love 80s night.

midnight snow

After the thunder/snow storm on Wednesday night, I went for a midnight walk.



The air after a snowstorm is amazing. It's clear and cold and feels so amazingly clean. Here in Salt Lake, we have terrible cases of inversion where we essentially sit in a large bowl of our own pollution soup for days at a time until the next storm rolls in. Sometimes in the summer we go through weeks of breathing cancerous air.

Another thing I like about nighttime snowstorms is the light. The cloud cover reflects the city lights, creating a blanket of dusky glow that creates an interesting light-tinting effect. The night is no longer as dark. The snow coated the branches of the trees, making it look as if they were blossoming with tiny, white flowers. Bluffs of snow towered atop mailboxes, parked cars, and the Dollar Tree across the street.





Sometimes when I'm walking, I like to describe the things that I see as poetically or aesthetically pleasing as possible. That night, the entire world was shadows with tinges of white and yellow from the street lamps filtering through the snow-covered branches. The moon was consumed by a milky glow as it peeped out from underneath its storm-cloud quilt.



All in all, it was an amazing walk. I felt completely at peace strolling the streets in the middle of the night (which is saying something, because I live my life like it's a horror movie). That's what snowstorms do, they create a quiet calm that makes it feel like all possibility of danger is eliminated. The only person I met in my travels was this guy, who I creepily took a picture of as he walked away from me.



I finally arrived home around one and mentally kicked myself because I had to get up for class in a few short hours (and for me, a few short hours means seven). It was worth it though. There is a magic in midnight walks.

(this is incredibly hipster)

pachycephalosaurus

I'm reading poetry for my children's literature class, and I wanted to share my favorite one.

Among the later dinosaurs
Though not the largest, strongest,
PACHYCEPHALOSAURUS had
The name that was the longest.

Yet he had more than syllables,
As you may well suppose.
He had great knobs upon his cheeks
And spikes upon his nose.

Ten inches thick, atop his head,
A bump of bone projected.
By this his brain, though hardly worth
Protecting, was protected.

No claw or tooth, not tree that fell
Upon his head kerwhacky,
Could crack or crease or jar or scar
That stony part of Paky.

And so he nibbled plants in peace
And lived untroubled days.
Sometimes, in fact, as Paky proved,
To be bonehead pays.

Richard Armour

instax

I just received this in the mail!



I finally caved and ordered it after lusting over it since December. Even though the 25 just came out, it's out of stock everywhere and I turned into this impatient mess so I decided to be impulsive and get this.

I don't care if it's impractical and ridiculously expensive, it's fun. And I could use some fun. It was a good impulsive decision I think. Unfortunately, it's thunder-snowing right now (thunder and lightening but with...snow) and my only subjects would be the dogs (which are cute, but uninterested right now), so I'll take/scan some pictures later.

future

Edit: the future is not so scary, friends. Listen to advice, listen to your parents, and ultimately do what you want to do.

Whenever I think of the future, I think about the Spongebob episode SB-129. Squidward's reaction to the future (where EVERYTHING is chrome!) is to lay down on the floor and begin repeating "future" in a strained voice while doing what appear to be sit-ups.







I would call it a mental breakdown.

I handle thoughts of the future much like Squidward.

Today I had a productive chat with the graduate student I work with about the future. We discussed the possibilities of what I could do with myself once school was over; basically work or more school. It's just so surreal to think that all of my life has been leading to this moment: college. Honestly, I hadn't really thought about looking much farther in the forward direction because college was so far away. Not anymore. I am now a junior in college and on track to graduate in three more semesters. I am very much a live in the now person, which makes it easy to think that I have plenty of time to decide. However, as my parents keep reminding me, I can't always do this and have to start planning for the future.

My family sort of has this habit of living vicariously through me (my dad especially), and they also have a habit of being a little...pretentious. They scoffed at the idea of me being an animal trainer when I thought that I would want to do that with my life. To be fair, it really wasn't a great idea for me to go into animal training anyways due to a number of reasons, the number one reason being that I was fifteen at the time that I thought this. Anyways, when I mentioned that I might not want to go to graduate school, my dad told me that then I could never be a true scientist and my grandfather asked me what else I would do with my time. Like a typical wayward college student, I answered, "I don't know. Work. Live." He asked me what that meant. I just don't want to do anything that makes me unhappy, and spending a majority of my twenties in a stressful program that might not lead me to my ultimate happiness just seems extremely daunting.

I asked my graduate student what she thought. She told me to do what I wanted and to be happy. It's so simple. I don't find pleasure in the thought of running my own lab or being a professor at a university. I still don't quite know what I do want, but I know that I like to teach in informal settings, like the outdoors. I like to study things and work on research projects if I am being supervised so that I know that I won't royally screw up. I like to do a lot of things that don't have to do with biology as well. So really, there are tons of opportunities for me. I just have to remember this.

Basically my grad student told me to take a break from college after it's over and live. Work and experience the real world. Make decisions based on that rather than what I hear from others. She told me that I should email people in positions similar to what I want to do and ask them how they got there, credentials, etc. She settled my fears about a lot of things, like letters of recommendation and pleasing everyone. So far I know one thing for sure: I am taking a break after college. It might be a year, it might be a year and a half. Maybe I'll go wild and take TWO years off. Maybe I'll never go to graduate school, like everyone wants me to. All I need to think about is making myself happy.

I really like the idea of working here or here :) Either one would be amazing and AN ADVENTURRRREEEE!!!

I might still need someone to do this to me though

more to come

I'm one of those people who finds great inspiration online.  I think it's funny when people (people who are a great deal like me because I am on the fringe of hipster society) complain about the internet and social networking.  I love it.  I don't agree with only turning to the internet as your sole source of inspiration, but I love to read blogs of people who are out in the world accomplishing their dreams.  It feels like I'm with them every step of the way during their struggles and joys.  It's a little creepy because it's sort of stalkerish.

I wanted my own blog so I could share my own struggles and joys with the online world.  Even if no one reads or follows this blog, that's fine.  It's for me to look back on years from now, to remember stories that I want to tell here.  I want to post a lot of pictures because I'm going to try and use my cameras more.  It sounds cliche, but I love photography.  That's all there is to it.  I want to strike the balance between living life and capturing the best moments of it on film (or more appropriately, digitally).  I also want to share my arts and crafts, because I'm an artistic person who sometimes forgets to just sit down and engage myself in that world.

I also want to copy some of my favorite bloggers (because, of course, imitation is the greatest form of flattery) and tell hilarious stories from my youth and from my most recent adventures in the form of pictures and small comics or drawn pictures.  Allie from hyperbole and a half is especially good at this and I would recommend EVERYONE read her blog (:

I'm excited about this.  I hope that other people could gain inspiration from my blog someday.

Adventure is out there!