avian aversion

i've always thought birds were a little bit creepy. i mean, they just look mad all the time.
in elementary school, my friend molly had a pet parakeet that she'd, more often than not, try to get me to hold. she'd open the cage and he'd step delicately onto her finger until she brought him out. then, freed, he'd fly up to the corner of her bedroom, fix me with a beady stare and dive straight for my head. i think she thought it was fun. but i always ended up a nervous wreck, worried that he'd peck my eyes out.

during our lunch break from TA orientation at tech, a group of other arties and i sat under some lovely trees to munch. something dropped onto my head and reached up to brush whatever it was out of my hair. but instead of a twig or acorn or piece of bark or dried leaf or beetle, my fingers smeared in warm, moist goo. in my hair. a bird pooped in my hair. it's supposed to be good luck in some cultures. i just thought it was gross.

one time, at art camp,* a sparrow took up residence in the eaves of my cabin and whenever i walked by, he dive-bombed me. i had to run with my arms flailing above my head to get to my car.

so when i started playing with the metaphor "killing two birds with one stone," to represent how much i had to do (the birds) and how little time i had in which to do it (the stone), it seemed to fit.* like a glove. a white sequined one. particularly when all of my metaphorical birds turned and dive-bombed me, pecking out my eyes and pooping in my hair. i think one of them actually built a nest somewhere in there cause i can hear it chirping still.***

*technically it's a graduate summer program, but we all call it art camp.

**i know i know, usually this is a metaphor for getting stuff accomplished faster because you're doing 2 things at one time.

***the partner i was pulling all this overtime for suggested several times that i take today off or at least leave early. then he gave me more work to do.