Ode to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park

Some very wonderful things have happened in my life and there's one place I have to thank for the best of them: the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. It's where I had my most favorite job, where I learned that there are other people who are passionate about conservation, where my friendship with my best friend grew, where I met my partner, and where I got my master's degree. It's astonishing to think how different my life might be if not for this incredible place.

If I remember correctly, this was my favorite giraffe, Chinde. (2009)

In 2009 I got laid off from my first post-college job. The financial recession was in full swing, and I applied for a temporary position at the zoo (the actual zoo, I thought) figuring why not? I was unemployed and loved wildlife, so working at a zoo seemed like it might be fun. But I had hoped I'd have a better, real job before my interview.

I didn't, and went to the interview. I learned what the job actually was, since it wasn't clear in the job description, and was so excited. I got the job and spent the next 5 months driving a truck full of people into the 100-acre open space exhibits, where giraffe, rhino, gazelle, and birds freely roamed together. Occasionally a rhino or giraffe would approach my window and take pets. My days were spent in "Africa", looking at the incredible landscapes and stunning wildlife. As a perk, I could bring friends and family when there was open space, and took my best friend a few times. Years later we still spend our Sundays at the zoo, walking around and chatting about life among the animals.

My Safari Park coworkers taught me that it's not just OK to be passionate about conservation, but that you can have a career in conservation. For the first time in my life I felt at home with the people I worked with, like I wasn't so different and so weird. I learned that I needed to seek out people like them, and I'm happy now that I have a strong network of passionate conservationists.

When conservationists find a tarantula in the desert. (2017)

It was that spark that made me apply for the Advanced Inquiry Program, provided jointly through San Diego Zoo Global. There I met a couple dozen new people who were equally passionate about wildlife, conservation, and inspiring the next generation. I learned from people who are working in their fields, researched issues that are important to me, spoke with people around the world about conservation, and even went to Africa. In the end, it led to a job with a major non-profit conservation organization, and I couldn't be happier.

Ready to run! In my awful high school gym shorts! (2011)

The Safari Park was the location and the reason for running my first half marathon. I had never run so much as a 5K but had been getting into the idea of running for exercise. This half marathon was cheap compared to the others I had heard of and the proceeds were to build a new tiger exhibit. It was a bit of a cluster, but I ran faster than I had trained and felt so proud that I could finish. I've since done several others, including a couple others at the Safari Park, but that was the best (even though it's no longer my fastest). I still carry a souvenir keychain that is one of my most prized possessions. I'm more into running these days and credit that race.

On Skyfari during one of our zoo visits in 2013.

It was also where I met a friend, who became The Boyfriend, who became The Fiancé. He and my best friend came to my graduation reception, held of course at the Safari Park, overlooking the same exhibit I drove the truck 10 years ago in my most favorite job. I often think about how different my life might be if it wasn't for that temporary job at the Safari Park.

Thank you, San Diego Zoo Safari Park (or Wild Animal Park, which I still can't stop saying).

Working Woman

Oh god yes.

Aaaaaaand I got a job. Quickest bout of unemployment ever! Haven't even gotten an unemployment check yet, even, so that'll make taxes next year less confusing. 

I went through this blog from the last year or so and found six separate posts that are almost entirely about my job, why it sucked and how working full time and still not having money to do little things was wearing me out. I so wanted to find some awesome job, walk in to work and quit in a fantastic style, but being laid off because the owners couldn't work together anymore robbed me of that story. But on the other hand, I wouldn't have found the job I'm starting tomorrow had I not been looking in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. And for the first time in years, I'm taking a job not because it's there, not because I was offered the position, not because it's at least slightly better than the one before, and not because I have to have a job, any job, but because I wanted it when I saw it, because I think I fit in to the culture, because I have the same beliefs as the company and I believe we will support each other. For the first time since 2009 I'm excited to start a job that I think I will do great in, a job that suits me.

I spent the last three years in one job or another that paid the bills (sometimes barely... I still amaze myself with how little I actually need to survive on) and had its upside, but was mostly soul sucking. Working in the one department at the Wild Animal Park that didn't care about the animals and asked its employees to do whatever it took to make money was eye opening in a very bad way (especially for me), working for an English language school for international students that couldn't give a shit about the students' actual experience in San Diego and ruined many of their ideas of this country and this city was horrifying, and working for what I thought was a remodeling and home improvement company when all the owners cared about was signing a contract and cashing a check, flat out telling their employees they don't care about the customers and that we run a sales company, not a remodeling company and one that had favorite employees and employees that were constantly taken advantage of was shocking. And the job hunting process wasn't exactly a cake walk either, considering I'd been looking for months. When I was looking while still employed I wanted to find the right fit, and when I was looking while unemployed I was worried I'd have to once again take a job just because it was a job, don't much care what it is (watched a lot of Firefly last night).

I think, finally, I've found a company that not only does what it says it does, but cares about what it does (can you imagine?). Their mission statement includes the word passion in it. And from what the extensive interview process showed me, they really care who they hire because it's going to make a difference to the team, their creative process and their clients. I don't think a company would go through such an intense interview process if they didn't care so much. And I'm really excited if that's the case. I would love to be able to stay with a company for a few years and really grow with it and learn. I think I may have my chance to stop hopping around year after year.

Also finally, the boyfriend has a job he loves. After freelancing for... 4 years?... he landed a great job doing what he's been doing, only for an established photography company that gets its own clients and doesn't require him to do the whoring-himeself-out-for-work part. Which means all that stuff he doesn't like about the job he's doing for an hourly rate, and all the stuff he loves (photographing cars and food and animals) he can still do on his own time. And everything he does for the company gives him more skill. We've got the first step of the DINK system down now and one day we'll be those annoying pet parents real parents can't stand because we have disposable income for funzies (but we'll make it up by being a great aunt/uncle pair). The future is definitely looking good!

Worst Race Ever

Not really. The pretty medal made it all worth it!

Yesterday I ran the second annual Safari Park Half Marathon (again, for the tigers) and boy was it a rough one. There were a few different points when I wanted to give up and walk the rest or just stop at the next medic station, and I started the run with a full bladder and a rumbling stomach, both of which stayed with me through the next 3 hours (I did stop to pee but was so concerned about getting back out there that I got in and out as quickly as possible, not completely emptying my bladder). 

Although, 90% of the difficulty was my own fault: I didn't train hardly at all, my only long run being the 9ish miles of the Hot Chocolate Race and nearly every other run being less than 5 miles, so I couldn't have been too surprised at my awful time. But then I didn't help my own cause by having shoe problems and changing my race shoe twice in the final week, finally settling on the same pair I ran in this race last year, which I reasoned was better than running in a week old shoe that hadn't had time to be broken in yet. 

The last 10% of the run was totally not my fault: whoever designed the race and decided that a GIANT DIRT HILL was a good idea should definitely not design the next race. This hill was not just any hill, and made the elephant hill of last year look like a driveway. It was enormous, super steep, and all dirt, and I applaud anyone who actually ran that thing. I started off at a jog and pretty quickly gave that up, and jogged over the crest, but that hill was no joke.

Speaking of jokes, the hill had a few punny jokes to try making it more bearable. Why did the tiger lose at poker? Because he was playing with a cheetah! My favorite: What does this hill and an elephant's trunk have in common? They both suck! HAHA! They did make me smile on the hill and briefly take my mind off it, which I guess was the point, but then again I really like punny jokes.

The run did feature a pair of cows, a camel, wine "glasses" of Gatorade at the winery, several animal statues, an elephant herd and a few other cool things worth taking pictures of, but without someone to take a picture for me (and a camera...) I couldn't really take any of that with me. 

All in all it would have been a decent run, all things considered, but the minute I crossed the finish line I suddenly stopped breathing. That has never happened before and it was completely terrifying. My boyfriend was at the finish waiting for me and I eeked out that I couldn't breathe- my lungs felt tight and tiny and I wanted giant gulps of air that just weren't coming. Volunteers handing out medals tried to congratulate me and I couldn't respond. We walked over to the medic station (which seemed to just be a place to get ice on the knees) where they summoned EMTs. While I was waiting I loosened my bra and could breathe better. They hooked me up to two different machines and said my readings were perfect... except for my heart rate, which was a little high, but then I'd just finished 13.1 miles. After a while, when I was breathing normally again, they were satisfied that I wasn't going to collapse and made me sign a waiver saying I refused to be escorted to the hospital, meaning I didn't want an ambulance ride. Actually, the way it was phrased was, "I'm guessing you don't want a ride in a big red box, do you?" I denied and signed.

I didn't feel well for a good portion of the day after that. I was nauseous, had a headache and obviously was sore pretty much everywhere (even my arms for some reason), so I slept for most of the day. This run really took the wind out of me and it'll make me think long and hard about doing it again. In the end, though, I'm really glad I did it and glad I finished, but next time I'll be a lot more serious about training so I'm better prepared.

One Is Not Like The Other: Part 1

This is what's wrong.

Let's get this straight right at the beginning: animal activism does not equal veganism.

Surprisingly, it is actually possible to eat meat and animal products and still support animal rights and welfare. I know, right? Now, this will involve educating yourself on your meat and animal choices and reevaluating where your food comes from and exactly how far you're willing to go to meet yourself in the middle. But it's really not hard, especially if animal activism is important to you.

Up until my preteen years I was an avid meat eater. In a way I identified with predators (my cat and dog, the hawks and owls I watched around my house, even the way my rat ate bugs), and meat was tasty. Especially sausage. Mmmmm, sausage. My tastes have changed over the years and although I eat very limited amounts of meat now I don't like the notion that you have to be vegan in order to support animal welfare.

I come across websites that imply (or outright state) that the only way to be a real animal activist is to adopt a vegan lifestyle. While I fully support those who are vegan and sometimes wish I had the courage and tastebuds there's just no way I could do that. And that's because I love cheese. Cream cheese with salsa or cottage cheese and tomatoes for breakfast, potatoes with eggs and cheddar in a burrito, mozzarella with tomatoes and basil, grilled cheese sandwiches, pepper jack or gouda with crackers and apple slices, rice and beans with cheese... I love cheese. The only meatless things I can order when eating out have cheese. And I'm OK with that.

But here's the thing: I love animals. Animals will always be around, and not having a pet in 2008 was the most depressing time in my life. Seeing wildlife every day at the Wild Animal Park made my year in 2009, I vote for animal rights when they're on the ballot. I make choices based on how it will affect animals and their environments and choose the meats I do eat carefully. But I also love food. Like, really love food. Cooking, creating new dishes, sharing food with people, grocery shopping, and eating. I love eating. I will never be one of those skinny twigs because I love food. 

Probably 90% of my grocery shopping is done at Trader Joe's and Sprouts, which is about as local as it can get without going to a farmer's market (which is great, just a bit out of my budget for most things). I support local hunting and fishing and don't believe that eating animals is inherently wrong. It's the way we get our meat that's wrong, but that's in another post. It's also the idea that we must be eating meat for our meal to be "real"or for us to be healthy that's wrong.

Eating meat does not make a person an opponent of animal welfare just like not eating meat does not make a person a supporter of animal welfare. There are plenty of people who eat meat and support animal rights, people who want to see the way our animals are raised change, people who acknowledge their place as an omnivore who also believe animals we eat deserve a better quality of life and death. Suggesting otherwise is a little closed minded.

Elephants in Raincoats

Go ahead. Just try to find a cuter picture.

I've recently been introduced to my calling.

Over two years ago I realized I'll probably never be happy unless animals are a very large part of my life, which means they'll need to be part of my work life. Whether that's working with them directly, writing about them, or working with people for their benefit, having animals only in my personal life just ain't going to cut it.

Then I saw this article. Because of human actions these baby elephants are orphans. However, because of human actions these orphan elephants are loved and cared for. They even get raincoats! That's what I want to do. I want to give orphan elephants their raincoats.

Elephants are like people, perhaps more than any other animal. We might be almost genetically identical to bonobos but when it comes to animal emotion I'm convinced elephants share a more similar mind. This means elephants, especially baby elephants, experience something very similar to PTSD. Just like a human child would be scarred for life after experiencing the death of a parent, a baby elephant would be traumatized.

If I had a lot of money I would buy a lot of land (like, tons) and use the space as a sanctuary for elephants here that are neglected, abused, unwanted or unable to be cared for. They would be able to live out the rest of their lives on that land, be fed, be able to interact with other elephants, be cared for when they needed it, and not be made to work or perform. It would be like the Black Beauty Ranch, except just for elephants (and hey, maybe Babe would want to come to have some company).

And then there's this picture:

How fucking amazing is this?!?

Clearly I am not in the right place in the world. Screw my fear of chemistry and being halfway decent at math... I could be in veterinary school right now.

When I become a world famous author and have the money or enough pull to get the fundraising necessary to pull off my dream, that's exactly what I'm going to do. In the meantime, I'll find a way to meet myself halfway.

Dumb Animals

I'm not the only one disgusted.

Spoiler alert: the dumb animals are us.

Thanks to poaching for a completely made up reason, there are now 7 Northern white rhinos left in the world. One captive Northern white rhino died recently in a zoo in the Czech Republic, leaving the captive count to 3. And two of them are what some call reproductively challenged. Also, old. So there's no captive breeding, period. Those 4 that were shipped of to Africa a 18 months ago better be making babies STAT.

Angalifu likely represents exactly 1/3 of his species.

It's long been known that rhino horn is used as a traditional Chinese medicine, supposedly curing everything from fevers to AIDS. First, we can ignore the obvious logic that if rhino horn did cure anything, we'd be raising rhinos for the exact purpose of harvesting their horns. Now that all reason is removed, let's look at China, one of the biggest players in the rhino horn black market. One man, the retired head of the National Traditional Chinese Medicine Strategy Research Project, believes it's only a matter of time until rhinos are bred for their horn, and is actively trying to re-legalize the use of rhino horn in traditional Chinese medicine. At least this guy (Jia Qian) is 70 and doesn't have his whole life left to see his goal realized, and if he does rely on rhino horn for his medicine he should be dead pretty darn soon. So that's good.

But in the meantime, Jia believes

"the reason the Chinese government hasn't used rhino horn for these diseases is because some people were Western trained and tainted by Western thought. Other people were weak and gave in to foreign pressure."

Fuck you, Jia. Western scientists have intensely scrutinized rhino horn to see if there is anything even remotely worth using for the benefit of our own species and there's absolutely nothing. It's just hair. Simple hair formed in an unusual way (no other animal has a horn made entirely of hair), but not miraculous and certainly not medicinal. But he, and others, believe strongly in its use and advocate breeding "endangered medicinal-use animals" to deal with the increase in demand.

However, and this is a big point, the only reason there's an increase in demand is because Jia and the Chinese government are encouraging its citizens to use rhino horn. There's already a rhino farm where 60 or so white rhinos are kept in concrete pens (under the guise of creating an African safari-type park for tourism, despite the fact that plans for this park halted over two years ago) and are used in horn harvesting experiments (under another guise of reintroducing the animals into the wild through breeding centers) which is 100% against CITES and definitely not why South Africa gave them to China. What does China gain by doing something the vast majority of the world disagrees with? Why does China eat dogs?

Nola, the sweetest girl to live out most of her species. She's 1/7 her population.

But here's some good news: South Africa just sentenced 2 poachers to 16 years in prison after catching them red handed - literally - with a freshly cut rhino horn that they later matched with DNA analysis to a dead rhino. And then in Kenya some poachers shot an elephant with poison arrows, killed it, roasted its meat, and then died from eating poisoned elephant. Serves you all right, you fucking assholes.

I Was In Love With The Place

I don't hate the number 4 so much now.

Before I lived in my studio in Banker's Hill, San Diego didn't feel much like my city. I moved all the time, changing zip codes as if it was nothing. I never felt at home. Community, and living alone for the first time in my life, changed that. In that quirky, old and crooked apartment I fell in love with San Diego.

Living two blocks from Balboa Park, an easy stroll from Hillcrest and an $8 cab ride from downtown connected me to the city. There was so much to do and experience, always people around, always someone doing what you're doing which makes a person living alone feel not so alone. For once, since moving out of our home the summer before my senior year of high school after my parent's divorce, I felt like I belonged. That space was mine to do with as I pleased, to cook what and when I wanted, to have whoever I desired over, to clean as often and as obsessively as I needed. My cat was no longer harassed, I no longer worried about who would be up when I came home, and sharing evenings with my neighbors made me happy to be social again.

But I also fell out of love in that apartment. With this newfound love for my city, and especially for my neighborhood and my job, my heart started leaking the love I had for my relationship. That love was suddenly no longer as important. My cat, my life, my city and my passion were all so much more deserving of love so I let the other one go. Looking back I mourn the temporary nature of my job and that I had to leave that apartment and that neighborhood, but I don't mourn the loss of my relationship.

Finally, that apartment was where the seeds of a future love were laid. Weeks, possibly days, before I packed up and left I was falling asleep when the person whose arms were comfortably wrapped around me whispered "I love you." I wasn't meant to hear those words so I pretended to be asleep. Those words weren't exactly real at the time, but they did mean there was more than just companionship. I wasn't ready to be in love with another person then, and because of that the following months were a roller coaster of disappointments. Now those seeds that were planted just before I left that place have sprouted and they feel like they're in full bloom.

Maybe it's all in my mind, just like the song:

I was in love with the place in my mind, in my mind

I made a lot of mistakes in my mind, in my mind

It's hard to think of certain things as mistakes though. I don't like that I don't live in Banker's Hill, but I can't afford it; I don't like that I'm not in love, but I wasn't ready when it was offered. In a perfect world I'll live in my old neighborhood again and the one I want will be nearby, and I'll just be the happiest girl in San Diego. Maybe it's time for me to make more of an effort at getting what I want.

Two Years Ago

Two years ago I made out with a giraffe. Kind of.

Two years ago yesterday was the first day of the rest of my life. On May 6, 2009 I signed employment papers to be a photo caravan driver at the Wild Animal Park. I met people who changed my outlook on life so much that I'll never be happy if I'm not doing something I'm passionate about.

Two years ago I had been unemployed for 3 months after being laid off from my writing job. I wasn't happy there and had been looking for a new job, but never would have looked at the zoo job board had I not gotten laid off. And because I was desperate for a job I knew I'd take anything. Luckily, being a photo caravan driver was the best thing to happen and I rocked my interview, getting the job the next day. I went into the interview thinking it was for the Journey Into Africa tram and was beyond excited to hear otherwise. I spent the next 4 months getting up close and personal with dozens of wild animals, listening to my coworkers talk about their behaviors and how they've adapted to their environments, and watching species I don't know if I'll ever see in the wild act completely natural. It was a dream come true for me, a dream I never really knew I had.

Two years ago I didn't know this animal existed.

Two years ago I was in love with someone I knew wasn't right for me, but too afraid to let go. I had been going back and forth between wanting to break up and wanting to stay for almost 5 months. I didn't have the courage to leave a 5+ year relationship and I knew it. Meeting the photo caravan people, seeing their immense passion for these animals, getting glimpses of their lives and the animals in them, made me realize how unhappy I would be if I didn't leave my relationship. I always knew I wanted horses, a cow, dogs, cats, rats, whatever came my way, but the person I was with not only didn't share that dream, he was allergic to animal hair. The only reason we lasted as long as we did was because he put up with it to be with me, and he adored my cat, but it was always a sore issue. I knew being with him would eventually mean giving up many of the animals I wanted in my life. It took me two more months to fully realize this, to fully realize how badly I would hurt in the future if I had to give up (or be restricted in) having animals in my life, but I finally did and I left. In the two years since it's been absolutely crucial to be with someone who loves animals. I may not have found the perfect man yet, but knowing that this is something I can't compromise on really narrows it down.

Two years ago I learned this face will likely determine who I love.

Two years ago I was lazy, tired and bored (and boring). Working in an office all day, staring at a computer screen, sitting on my ass drained all of my energy. I would go home, put on my pajamas and watch TV until I fell asleep. I didn't go out and do things at night and barely did anything on the weekends. I hated who I was. Working in the intense heat of the San Pasqual Valley, moving around and lifting buckets of water when I wasn't driving, and being mentally stimulated while I was driving gave me ten times the energy I had from my previous job. I left work sweaty and gross but rejuvenated, went home to shower and went out with friends and coworkers. I had energy to sit up late with my neighbors drinking wine and talking in the courtyard, energy to go to Taco Tuesday pretty much every week, energy for Stone movie nights, energy for bar hopping on nights off and running on mornings off. I loved who I was that summer. When the summer, and my job, ended I knew I would have to find a new job I could be passionate about, that I wouldn't be happy ever again doing something I didn't care for.

Two years ago I never imagined this photo would exist.

Two years ago I had no direction in my life. I gave up on being a journalist and had no where else to turn. If I wasn't going to continue making writing my career, what was left for me? Biology would be too impractical because of the debt I would have and because I still didn't know what I wanted to do. Writing didn't make sense if I wasn't going to be a teacher or a journalist, and nothing else interested me. Despite knowing I definitely wanted to continue with higher education I couldn't just do something for the sake of getting a master's. I needed to love it, needed to want it, needed to imagine myself in a specific position afterwards. And I'm excited to admit now, finally, I know what I want, know what I want to be, and know how I want to help change the world.

Two years ago I had an idea but I was on the verge of giving it up. Two years ago I found out I don't have to hide my passion and excitement for animals and conservation. Two years ago I learned what it meant to be a Cape buffalo. Two years ago I knew it couldn't be any other way.

13.1

I'm in orange.

Yesterday I ran 13.1 miles– more than I've ever run– in 2 hours and 5 minutes (and 38 seconds, but who's counting?). Today I can barely move.

The event was the San Diego Zoo's Safari Park Inaugural Half Marathon. I raced in a group of 3,500 in order to raise funds to build a new tiger habitat. Though, I wonder how much of our fees actually go to tigers: we got a technical t-shirt (which is the coolest thing ever!), a finisher's medal, fruit, and as much Powerade as we wanted, not to mention paying employees to be there early, equipment to set up water stations, mile markers, a permit to shut down a busy road, winner medals (and the awesome stuffed-animal cheetahs they won), and extra employees to attend to the crowd. We probably raised well over $200k, but I still wonder. Regardless, it was an amazing experience and one I definitely want to do next year.

The biggest pitfall with this run was that it was the same day as daylight saving time. So not only did I have to be up super early, I had to do so on a day I lost an hour of sleep. And, since I'm just this lucky, I woke up in the middle of the night (I'd had a LOT of water right before bed) just in time to see the clock change from 1:59am to 3am. Less than 2 hours later we (my mom came for moral support) were up.

There's only one road leading into the Park and it's only one lane. But there's 2 ways to get to that road, and I knew the one no one else would be taking, which got us into the parking lot in record time (I don't know how 3k+ cars made it on those roads and into the limited parking lot space...). Gear check, potty break, bib on and I was good to go. There was a morning DJ kind of guy with a mic doing his best to get people pumped. There were girls in sequined skirts, groups wearing animal-themed outfits, a guy in a condor costume, and two men in matching zebra and tiger striped leggings, as well as many wearing the orange shirts. The sun started to break, 7am came and we were off.

Somehow the weather was perfect for the run. The sun was out for a while, letting my hands thaw, but after a while the sun retreated behind cloud cover and mist. While the sun was still rising we ran down a road lined with orchards, horse corrals and cow pastures. One house had a large field behind it and a white horse, backlit by the rising sun, ran alongside the fence as cows mooed beyond. It was a beautiful sight and a few people near me took pictures with their phones. The course was a lot hillier than I expected but I told myself to not stop on hills, no matter what. I broke that resolve for a few seconds on the last hill– it looked longer than it was, and because it was steep I gave in halfway up. A man on the sidelines shouted encouragement: "This is the top, you're there." A girl next to me told him he'd better be right and we both picked up running again. He was, we were over the last hill. The medic was stationed at the peak of that hill (which was a point we passed twice), and at the bottom were residents of a neighborhood we invaded cheering us on. One man turned to wave, tripped and fell. He rolled like a hero in a video game, popped right back up, and waved again to the small crowd saying he was alright. His buddies, running alongside him, joked that he'd have to go back up the hill if he needed the medic, and that he should tell others he was saving someone from a lion.

Around mile 10-11 I had to stop for a few more seconds to give some relief to my hip and to adjust my shoe. All together, including walking through the water stations, I stopped running for less than 2 minutes. The last mile seemed much longer than a mile, but when I saw that 13 mile marker I started running fast. I powered through and the last .1 miles was almost sprinting. I saw my time on a giant clock and had a huge grin as I passed the finish line. I knew I'd finish before 2:30, and I secretly wanted to finish before 2:15, but I never guessed I'd finish at 2:05. I accepted my finisher's medal, a bottle of water and Powerade, found my mom (who promptly took my very sweaty picture) and just tried to keep from collapsing. My legs were shaking and there were so many people (over a thousand finished before me) crowding the area that there was no room to walk it off.

Once I regained my composure (and took my zebra stampede photo) I started to feel good. I headed over to see if I could find my former co-workers/fellow runners, and hopped on the one morning caravan that hadn't sold out yet. I finally introduced my mom to the best job ever (she was excited to meet my giraffe and rhino friends) and once the sun came out we started to forget our cold and enjoy the day.

When we were home I took the world's greatest shower, ate a plate-full of pasta and vegetables, and we lay down for a nap. More than 4 hours later we woke up, still exhausted, and I devoured a giant plate of nachos. A day later and I'm still exhausted, and now with very sore legs. But I feel accomplished that I ran a half marathon. This is a race I want to make a tradition, and next time I run I want to beat 2 hours.

The Month Of Love

Ah, February. Are you the reason I got that lovin' feeling when I left my apartment tonight, even though I was just going to work? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

But what caused it? Is all this running influencing my endorphins? Am I excited about making some positive changes? Or am I thinking about the prospect of going back to the job that made me the happiest I've ever been? Or could it just be all the heart decorations in windows, fresh flowers in grocery stores, and an extra lovey kitty?

Chuchumia brightens your day.

It's no wonder I'm such a happy camper the last few days– there's so much to be excited for! My family is coming to visit next weekend, I have Super Bowl Sunday off for like the second time in a decade, I get to sleep in tomorrow as late as I want, I'm happy about my living situation, and my future suddenly seems not so far away. And I'm excited about it, looking forward to it, like my life is a book that I simultaneously want to finish because I can't wait to find out how it ends but also want to go slowly and enjoy the experience because it's such a good one. Plus, I feel super accomplished every week just for running, and got a nice reward today when a shirtless guy ran past me with his two beautiful Weimaraners. Trying to keep up with them was far more motivating than any song on my iPod could be.

Then there's the job prospect. I'm not sure about returning to photo caravans. On the one hand, I loved that job so much and was retardedly happy that summer. But on the other hand, I still have nightmares about flightline and the anxiety makes me really not want to go back. But again on the one hand, maybe I need to remind myself that there are people at the Park who care about the animals and the guests. And maybe it would be good to go back to the place that makes me happy... After all, there's nothing in the world better than seeing giraffes and rhinos every day, or being around people who are as excited about it as I am.

See how happy I was? That was every day.

So we'll see. If I go to grad school and can't find a "real" job this might be a good opportunity. I'd just need to get over that pesky anxiety...

Positive Thinking

I can go here any time I want.

I've got it pretty good.

It's very difficult to live in such a beautiful part of the world and not appreciate life. Going to the beach and seeing the bright sun setting over waves and dogs in January, having Balboa Park so close to my spacious apartment, living in the center of urban San Diego, living in a city others dream of visiting one day, having such an intimate knowledge of the things to do every day makes me feel very alive.

I really don't have a whole lot to complain about. (Not that that ever stops me.) Sure, I could use a job that provides full-time work, regular working hours, and a decent wage. But I do like my job, so it's not all bad. Plus, I can feel the next opportunity almost as if it were tangible. It's right there. Any day I'm going to get a phone call and I'll rock the interview. Every day that passes just means it's getting closer to that day.

But in the mean time, there's plenty to keep my spirits up about life outside employment.

1. San Diego is awesome. I've been asked why I don't leave and move closer to my family but I couldn't imagine leaving my city for my hometown. I'll leave someday, I know that. But for something better. For San Francisco, New York, London, Seattle, Zurich, or even Granada.

2. My friends are the best. I have so much support from them and their faith in me is the best form of encouragement. It's great to know that on any (albeit rare) night I'm off and have nothing to do a quick phone call can change everything. I've also been wearing a bracelet a student gave me to remind myself that I have a positive effect on others. I feel like Jim Carrey in The Mask: "You love me, you really love me!" God, I would stop breathing from laughing so hard at that movie.

3. I got ZOONOOZ in the mail. I've been getting annoyed at the previous tenant not forwarding her mail, but getting that magazine with a giant picture of my favorite crane on the cover made me super excited. It's the little things.

I want a dress modeled after this bird.

4. My high school boyfriend joined Facebook. His profile picture is super punk/emo, with long hair in front of his face, black clothes, insecure smirk and sarcastic comments on all photos, and 2 albums of him posing with his punk girlfriend (the one who apparently cheated on her boyfriend, his best friend, with him), making hard core hand gestures. I know it's been, like 7 years, but damn. I dated that. But it does make me feel pretty good about myself.

5. There has been some good new music out lately. One of San Diego's radio stations, FM 94.9, plays a good amount of underground and new music that hasn't hit the mainstream yet, and most of it is pretty amazing and ends up hitting the mainstream. It's also a good feeling to listen to a song, think how much I like it, and then realize it's by an artist I already liked.

6. Finally, training for this half marathon feels incredible. Every week I run further than I've ever run in my life, every week I'm breaking my own record, every week I'm doing more than I thought was possible with my body. I wasn't ever really a runner, but would sort of jog around just to get some exercise on occasion. Having this goal (and for a cause I'm all for) forces me to not quit, blisters be damned. Facing every week knowing I have to run 7 or 8 or 9 miles (up to 11 next month) is daunting, and then on top of that after every peak I have to keep building up to and passing that mark in preparation for the next peak. But then I do, and I feel amazing. My legs are looking good, and if I have to have big thighs at least they'll be muscular. 13 miles still sounds really hard, but I'll be wearing this epic (orange!!!) shirt with the marathon logo, will be running alongside 3,000 others and will get a participation medal at the end, which will encourage me to just not stop. And maybe after I've done this half marathon a full marathon won't feel so impossible.

Plus, little fuzzface here has been extra loving lately.

Death Of A Friend

Rest in peace.

Death is unfair, painful and scary. It doesn't matter if it's just a little sparrow or squirrel or a friend or family member. Death sucks.

A friend of mine learned a classmate from high school died recently, and he didn't expect it to affect him as significantly as it did. Another friend accidently killed a squirrel while driving, and, again, he didn't expect it to affect him as significantly as it did. An owl ambassador died, deeply affecting many of my friends and former coworkers. That owl's death also affected me more than I thought: though I didn't know him I had met him; he was the last animal ambassador I saw before I left the Park.

Then today was my first day volunteering for Project Wildlife. While feeding my last cage of baby birds one just wasn't interested in eating. I notified a manager, handed over the tiny guy, and she said she had to euthanize him. He and his cagemates had conjunctivitis, which is pink eye in humans but in birds is a virus that might never go away. Acute cases are euthanized. A minute later another bird started sneezing so again I called over the manager. He wasn't even opening his eyes, so she took him away too. Then she saw the eyes of the other 2 birds in the cage and made the decision to euthanize them all. I'd just been feeding them for 5 minutes and was already attached enough to be sad at their deaths. I knew it was for the best- no reason to prolong suffering and waste our resources on animals that won't survive anyway, and keeping them alive was putting nearby cages at risk. But I was still sad for their tiny lives. It made me think how much we are affected by loss of life- if these little song birds made me sad, how sad are my friends who lost their owl, and how sad to know you killed another animal, and how sad to lose a person.

Maybe we're all selfish and want whoever died to remain in our lives to fulfill whatever role is now empty. Or maybe we know we await the same end and being reminded is just too scary. Or maybe we think it's unfair that the deceased didn't get to live longer. Whatever psychology you choose, death is not easy to handle.

3 Steps To Happiness

Feels like it's been a while since I was happy. I was the happiest I've ever been last summer with my job, my home, and my situation in life. I was unhappy in my relationship, but that was easy enough to end, and then I was super happy. So what's changed to make me unhappy?

(1) Had to leave my studio because I couldn't afford it, (2) had to leave my job because there wasn't enough work for them to keep me, (3) and I miss having a someone. These changes weren't all bad, though: I got to live with a friend for 6 months, and he was the best roommate I've ever had, I got to stay at the Wild Animal Park in a different department, and I got to have a... something... with... a someone for a little while.

Step 1:

Since I still can't afford another studio I have no choice but to have a roommate. Unfortunately, my friend and I couldn't live together anymore because we both really wanted to live in different places. But that means I got to move back to Hillcrest for cheap. And if you see the previous post, you'll learn that being able to go running in Balboa Park is my happy place. I love Hillcrest. This is my neighborhood. I'd love to be able to buy a condo here. The atmosphere is so chill- people just do their own thing, there's always groups of people out and about, so many restaurants and bars and places to have fun, lots of dogs, and easy access to other cool areas. Plus, I was able to set up my room to be a (very) miniature studio: I fit my couch and coffee table in my room, have a TV (with cable!), and a large bay window that the kitty loves to look out of. I filled the sill with scented candles to give it kind of a romantic setting and I have my own bathroom so I can be neurotic as I want with it. Only downside to this move is the new roommate: he kind of hid that he's a smoker until I moved in (he smokes outside but it still wafts into the kitchen) and the kitchen needs cleaning and disinfecting like crazy. Still, not a whole lot of downside, so it was a happy move.

Step 2:

Last September I cried on the steps to my building because I wasn't going to be considered for a job at the Park that I really wanted. My friend tried his best to console me by telling me I would get another job I had applied for. I sobbed that I knew I would, but I didn't want it. I got it and it had it's very cool perks, but I never loved it. I loved that I was still at the Park, and my coworkers were the cool, but that was it, and it wasn't enough. So when I finally realized how miserable I was I left. Jimmy said it best: "Never thought I'd walk away from you. I did, but it's a false sense of accomplishment." It broke my heart to leave the place I once felt so happy. I have no idea what I'm going to do now, but at least I can get a full night of rest without waking up every hour freaking out that I'm late for work, I don't have to live with a pit in my stomach, I don't have to analyze everything I do to figure out how to best avoid getting in trouble, and I don't have to be taken advantage of anymore.

Step 3:

I had started to develop some strong feelings for a guy I was seeing but not really dating. We don't live in the same city and I didn't want to have a long distance relationship (been there, done that, it sucks), so we just saw each other when we could and texted. Naturally, I develop feelings, and I knew he was, too. But not long ago I was dishonest about another encounter and he got rightfully hurt and stopped seeing and talking to me. Naturally, I'm pretty bummed. But when I start to get a little more over it he'll drunk text he misses me and the process starts all over again. I was the one to end my past relationships (yup, all 2 of them), so not having control over it is a new experience, and one I'm not particularly liking. Part of me wants to remove all reminders (which are kind of a lot... funny how you don't realize that until it starts to hurt you) and just move on, but another part knows we'll still talk in the future, so doing something dramatic isn't smart. The last step to happiness is to accept the way things are and move on with my own life. Love will come in time.

Fuck You

This post will be dedicated to the images I found when I typed "fuck you" into Google image search. They gave me an internal lol.

The chihuahua is saying "Fuck you." And I spelled chihuahua right the first time!

I've been feeling very "fuck you" towards the world lately. It's incredible how easy it sometimes is for me to slip into feeling depressed more often than not. But what's also incredible is how everything falls into a seemingly calculated cycle: work/living arrangements/free time activities suck then work/living arrangements/free time activities all of a sudden change for the happy at the same damn time. And now I'm in one of those plunges, trying to find a way to make at least one of those things happier. It's the famous "if only" dilemma: if only I had a job I liked more, if only I was living in a place I loved again, if only I didn't have to work every single day in order to keep up with the bills, if only I had some direction in my life I would be a happy camper.

Naturally I think back to the last time I was HAPPY!!! End of last summer I was exploring my new found singleness, living in the best part of town, working at a job I hardly considered work (so, I'm gonna drive a truck full of animal lovers around a bunch of endangered animals as they come up close for food and photos and you're going to pay me for this?!), and hanging out with friends nearly every night as we reveled in San Diego summer. You tell me what's better than that.

HA!

But the thing that keeps me going day after day is the people. Man, people are great. Not only am I feeling sick and worrying myself all over the place that I'll still be sick for my sister's graduation next week, but all of the above "fuck you's" are weighing me down. And then a friend will ask how you're doing because she remembers you're sick, or give you an acacia leaf just to make you smile, or remind you of the fun times ahead, or laugh at her own jokes because she's funny, or offer a virtual hug, or even a stranger will offer to put in a good word for you if he dies and goes to heaven. Keep it up, people. I need you all.

Also, I found this:

It reminded me, after I stopped laughing, that we're all human, and we should all start acting like it. Follow your own beliefs, but don't be a dick and force them on the rest of us. Live and let live, but show some humanity.