Despite the fact that I injured my back the day I first carried it, I have been attached at the hip to my new Canon. I am loving learning all about photography and can’t wait until I buy a bigger card and until my back feels better so I can go roaming the neighborhoods of San Diego.

So far, I’ve put up two collections first week with the camera and flowers & mushrooms for your enjoyment. I’ve also added commenting in case you have something encouraging or educational to tell me.

Thanks to catching up with a good, old friend, I didn’t manage to go to sleep until 4am last night so today’s update will have to wait until tomorrow. I hope you enjoy the photographs in the meantime.

Crystal put up her Cayman pictures on Shutterfly so I stole some that I liked. Thank you, Crystal!

We’re now at the south of Turkey in a town called Fethiye at a resort. There will be pictures and posts coming since I was able to connect to the Ethernet connection of a broken computer using my laptop. Yey.

I manage to kill plants without much effort.

It’s not because I lack the amount of love required. First of all, I never know what sort of needs each plant has. Does it require a lot of water or just a bit? Can it survive in the darker parts of the apartment or is too much light a good idea? How often do I water it? Questions that seem simple to others are not so for me.

To make matters more painful, I love flowers. I love to see them bloom. My favorite are the tulips that come small and closed up and open almost all the way. They appear to be such giving flowers. I love that they come in tons of different colors.

In New York, delis sell flowers that range from 3-10dollars. They live about a week and still give me the pleasure of seeing flowers in my house but since they don’t last long or cost much, they come free of the guilt of killing the plant.

Or at least I can fool myself so.

Previously? Just the Facts.

I spend some of my free time volunteering at the Housingworks Used Book Cafe.

Some of the best people I’ve met in ages.

Previously? Mentally Horny.

I’m not a bird person.

When I first moved to New York City, I knew I was going to live by myself in a city where I knew practically no one. Ideally, I wanted to get a dog. But with the obscene investment banking hours, I knew that the shelters wouldn’t let me have a puppy.

So I figured a cat might be a better alternative. Cats are more self-entertained, I assumed. Well, I found out I am dreadfully allergic. So much so that the white of my eyeballs swells when in the same room with a cat. That ruled out the cat option.

My mom kept saying that I should get a bird. Wouldn’t I want a cute, little bird?

A bird? Who wants a bird? You can’t hug a bird. You can’t give him kisses and have him curl up on your lap. No, I told my mom, I wouldn’t want a bird.

A few weeks later, on my way home, I saw a bird store with tons of colorful lovebirds in the window, chirping loudly. I don’t know what made me walk in, but next thing I knew a parrot the size of my face was sitting on my arm, looking into my eyes. When the storeowner quoted me several thousand dollars for the fascinating creature, I balked. Maybe I could see a cheaper, more affordable size?

Which is how I ended up with cupcik.

In the five years that cupcik and I have shared the same apartment, he’s never ceased to amaze me. This tiny, blue creature is curious, intelligent, and playful. He imitates the phone ring, he figures out how to maximize his level of fun and he makes our life much more entertaining.

His little feet make small clicking sounds when on the parquet floor. He walks over to the mirrored legs of our chairs and pecks at the bird he sees. He is so excited by the clicking of the computer that he flies on to the keyboard to have a piece of his own. He loves chewing on paper and landing on your head. He’s sweet, kind, and comes to everyone.

He’s made me into a bird person.

Previously? 121,110.

I remember the day I went to pick out my budgie. The man at the bird store told me that only the males had the potential to speak. When I asked him which one was a male, he said that these were all babies and that I wouldn’t be able to tell for many months. He also said that by then I’d be so in love with the bird that it wouldn’t matter. So I picked the little parakeet according to his color. As opposed to the common yellow/green ones, mine was originally white and lilac. In the four years I’ve owed what I later found out to be a male bird, his colors went from pale purple to a soft blue with darker patches around his cheeks. He’s also developed a small yellow section on his head. My favorite part is his eyelids. They match the baby blue color of his back and they make me smile each time I catch a glimpse.

Even though he’s a male, my birdie can’t speak any words but I sure do love him like crazy.

As a little kid, I had huge ears that stuck out through my thin, straight hair. (We call them ladle ears in Turkish, but Jake says there is no English saying for someone with big ears that stick out.) Each time we were in the bathroom together, getting ready for school, my sister would tease me and say that I shouldn’t put my hair up cause it made my ears stick out even more. Over the years, my ears stayed the same size while the rest of my body grew. My hair also got thicker and wavier. I’m quite sure, my ears don’t stick out as much anymore, but I still don’t wear my hair in a ponytail.

Since I need help relaxing and since I thought it would be tons of fun, I decided to take pottery classes. Saturday morning was my first session. I put so much effort into holding the clay properly that my fingers made strong imprints on the clay, prolonging the process called ‘centering’ which is when you need to smoothen out the clay’s outer surface. My teacher kept teasing me and asking me where all my frustration came from and whether we could do something to get rid of it. I figured telling him that that’s why I took pottery to begin with would be futile.

Previously? Friendship.