The Bird Flock and I in The USA

 

If you have ever heard obnoxious birdcalls and seen a girl zip by dressed head to toe in rainbow paraphernalia—well, that was probably me.  Art college.  It happens.  We called ourselves the Bird Flock, a band of oddball college girls who blasted glitter pop on the way to Publix, contemplated life goals on moonlit beaches, and shared sob stories in the all night labs. 

I always had trouble making good friends.  My personal favorite labels were “weird” and “annoying”.  So I finally hid that part of me, the fun crazy part that was into anime, photography, art, and dark punk bands.  I tried to fit in.  I even attempted to wear collared striped shirts like everyone else.  They itched like hell.

But then I went to study computer animation at an art college.  I got on a plane leaving my small suburban town behind for Florida and with four suitcases, eight boxes, and a hunger for new experiences.  Little did I know, my destination was not all beaches and sunshine.  I would soon come to realize the harrowing truth: Florida is the living, breathing, armpit of the earth.  Cicadas are your friends, fire ants are not.  A man will fight a sea gull for his lunch and win.  There is a monsoon season, it is every day.  Disney World and 24 hour Starbucks are the only two things keeping you from going permanently insane. And driving on the highway amidst senior citizens and snowbirds? Well, you might as well put the cruise control at 25mph because you ain’t going anywhere fast.  But even Florida couldn’t stop me because I had nothing to lose.  I wanted to start over.  I wanted to be myself again.  It wasn’t that I thought I’d find people like myself.  I hoped I would, but I was tired of pretending, so I let the mask fall.  And I found them.  Or rather, they found me.  And they didn’t care what I liked or who I loved.  They didn’t scoff or laugh at me.  They showed me the finer points of life.  True happiness is sleeping till 11am.  When life gives you saran wrap, Saran wrap the hallway.  They taught me to be brave.  Grin in the face of adversity.  We are all weird.  Accept it graciously with bows and muffled laughter, watch them stare slack jawed and confused.  We weren’t friends.  These were people we shared our hopes and dreams, our best-kept secrets, and worst memories—we were family. 

For my senior year I made an animated short film for the senior show.  I worked like a madman surviving off of Cheerios, sweat, and midnight Starbucks runs.  Upon finishing it, I thought it was the most unbelievable thing I had ever created. So I went to our senior show where they played all the short films.  There was a break halfway through it and everyone went out into the main hall.  And all my friends were there and they were so proud of me.  And I realized the film meant nothing because it could not be compared to my friends.  They are my greatest accomplishment.  I will never be more proud of anything than having them support me.              

Out of all the places I have lived, Florida was the worst.  But ironically enough, my fondest memories are there. Now we are all scattered to the wind, some to the West, East, and me to the Midwest. I am living in a new city making my own way.  I’m not hiding anymore.  Independence suits me because I like the challenge. I am pleased to report I have not set anything on fire yet, so don’t worry Mom. And although my college family is not right here beside me, I Skype, phone, text, and visit them whenever I can. And I know my friends will support me no matter what path I decide to take from here. 

So come at me world.

 

About the Author:  Carly Senora is a junior 3D artist in lovely Chicago.  When she is not exploring the Windy City, Carly can usually be found planning her next trip or attempting to not face plant on her roller skates. 

 

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