Featherbrained

I've never been an avid lover of birds. This particular fact strikes me as odd considering how immersed I've been in the winged world since starting Birdcage Girl over nine months ago.

When I was little, my parents brought us a pet parakeet. We named her Ariel (after my favorite Disney princess) and she had a lovely combination of yellow and green feathers. Unfortunately, she decided she didn't feel at home with us. Ariel cried whenever we turned on the television and, when we let her out of her cage for some exercise, she'd perch on top of the refrigerator and bite our fingers. When my mother got sick from Ariel's presence in the house, we had to return her to the pet shop.

From them on, I admired birds from afar. When I still lived in New York, I watched blue jays and cardinals flutter from tree to tree in the backyard, looking very much like flying paint. My favorite birds were, and still are, sparrows. I liked sneaking snacks and tossing them for the tiny army of sparrows to gobble up. I daydreamed about owning one and teaching it to do tricks.

There are many different kinds of birds in Florida, some of them as tall as your torso. Every lake is covered in white birds airing their wings; some saunter across roads, expecting cars to stop for them. I still see sparrows here, even though they don't appear as often as I like. It seems as if they are children of the fall season - a season that Florida doesn't acknowledge anywhere but on a calendar. Theme parks are full of birds - whether they are the exotic ones kept in towering aviaries or friendly ducks; if I could be born as something else, I'd probably want to live out my whole life as a Disney duck. Seriously. They have it made.

In my senior year of college, I went impromptu bird-watching with my friend and the guy she liked (the guy who would soon be her husband). For two days straight, we met him in the park and followed him around while he showed us the local birds. We sat on sidewalks and passed around his heavy binoculars. Found baby birds in their nests. I watched in awe as he and my friend examined the bird guide together, their heads together, laughing softly.

But even so, I couldn't call myself a lover of birds. Not any more than the average person.

There's something magnetic about the idea of birds, isn't there? That's why you'll find birds painted on walls, printed on shirts, the icon of many different design schemes. We all want to fly - watching birds do it continues to be inspirational.

For a long time, I kept my head down and just typed out the story of Birdcage Girl without giving much thought to the birds right outside my window. However, in recent weeks, I've paid more attention. And it's been interesting. My friend over at HelloEnaam surprised me with a birdcage; she gave it to me over the summer and I proudly walked to the parking lot with it swinging in my grip. It has a little door that actually opens and closes. Whenever I feel stuck, I like to look at it for inspiration. Remember your roots, right? My main character, Ashlyn, has come so far that sometimes it feels like her days in the birdcage have been but a dream. I'm sure she feels that way too. Being close to finishing puts me in a nostalgic mood, haha.

I've also been on the lookout for birdcages too - and I found a shirt with the print. It's been a pretty exciting hunt. However, there are always some bird-inspired items that make me laugh. One of them I saw today - it's called Snap-On Feathers. It's apparently the "latest fashion craze" to stick feathers in your hair - the commercial for it is... uh... pretty interesting. I'll have to look around and see if people are really doing this. Still, the idea makes me smile.

Image from We Heart It

Escape Route

After two weeks of being back at school, I was chomping at the bit to go to Disney. I was doing well for a while, seeing my grad buddies again and plotting with them to sneak off during the day to a certain delicious French cafe. I greedily ate up the first two books of The Mysterious Benedict Society and found a new character to gush annoyingly about (Milligan, you're the man!).

Milligan, the man. You have no idea.

But even in spite of this, a familiar weariness set into my bones as I stayed awake for the fourth night in a row working on PowerPoints and lesson plans for my pupils. It's a tired ache that's stronger than any you'd feel on the fifth week of slaving over a research paper - trust me. It makes you long for some kind of escape; usually a quick trip into my head rectifies the situation, but when you're going to school to put your creative thoughts on paper, the imagination does not have the same magic it always used to. So real life has to come to the rescue.

Real life is Disney (Oh, haha. That's good).

Disney's Boardwalk was the exact place I had in mind ease my agitated spirits. A wild wind travels off the water that whips your hair until you run inside the stores, only to find yourself looking like a Wishnik troll. An abandoned night club that advertises dueling pianos looks rather lonely, but there's always a family kicking along by in a four-passenger Surrey bike. There's a tiny pearl shack, a lighthouse, and oh! Did I mention the shops? Only briefly. While you're furiously combing your hair back down, you might find some treasures not yet sent to the Disney Parks. This happened to me once in a glorious way. I found a t-shirt with Prince Phillip on it, and he had his arms crossed and looking proud. The shirt said, "Sorry ladies, I'm taken." How cool is that? I would have bought it immediately, except that I'm a girl (haha). The decorations in the shops are intricate and lovely. The last time I went, I noticed a painting or a carousel (and a literal carousel horse in one of the front windows) and a vintage illustration of hot air balloons. Wow.

The family and I spent most of the day exploring the hotels littered around the Boardwalk. One of my favorite things to do is wander around Disney hotels and just hang out there, sitting on the comfy couches or exploring the little shops and eateries inside. And if there's a theme to the hotel - ohmygosh. Then that's even better. I won't go into the specifics in this post, but the range of decorations spanned from vintage nautical to high-end Las Vegas style. We explored four of the hotels and waddled back on sore feet to the bakery for a bite and a good sit-down. I carried a giant (really) strawberry cupcake out to red high top table overlooking the water.

As we ate our respected desserts, I looked around me and enjoyed being still. The wind played with my bangs and threatened to make me swallow my own hair as the strands got caught in fluffy icing and red sprinkles. We were right by the ESPN Zone, complete with an ever-present line of men waiting to go inside; they clapped and cheered and stood on their toes as if celebrities were only just waiting for them inside the door. A woman sat at a table nearby (probably the wife of one of these men) with a stack of magazines and a novel. She glared at the seagull that continued to insist on occupying the table space. I grinned at the bird but forgot to offer him something.

The birds started to gather. Sparrows danced below our feet like tiny dancers on stage. Seagulls clung to the railing and surveyed the scene with proud eyes. One seagull had a feather stuck to his beak. He lowly approached our table and just stared up at me. Not begging, really, but trying to threaten me. But by then the cupcake was gone. Normally considerate of such things, I didn't drop any crumbs for the sparrows or seagulls. My parents were thankful about this, but they still teased me later on. "Yeah, why didn't you?" My mom said. "Didn't we teach you any manners?" I merely grumbled and tickled her sides. Revenge. Haha.

I breathed deeply, closed my eyes. I couldn't feel that ache anymore. It was as if someone stripped that heaviness off my bones so that I could float freely into the sky. I felt so happy. I wanted to sit at that table for another few hours. Maybe buy another cupcake but share all of it. I wanted to stay as far away from the computer and PowerPoint as I could.

But we all must return eventually. And I had to admit, as we got in the car to drive home, that I did feel refreshed enough to try again.