allow me to redirect you.

since my upcoming euro-excursion is occupying most of my brain space, "an acorn narrative" is fated to be temporarily neglected in the shadow of it's up-and-coming counterpart, "an acorn abroad."

please be advised that in visiting the aforementioned blog (also linked below), you will have access to firsthand wit, sarcasm, and general impropriety not suited for audiences younger than 14 or too old to appreciate humor.

enjoy!
...or don't.
         your call.

http://anacornabroad.blogspot.com/

howie-worthy

so here are the deals:

i will stop complaining about and start changing the things i have the power to change.
i will take better care of my body via sleep, exercise, and yoga. 
i will stop procrastinating my schoolwork.
i will listen more earnestly.
i will write more often. 
i will breathe deeper.
i will love better.


the end.

"we did a lot of things wrong, but we did a lot of things right"

I am a masochist, not to be confused with fascist, even though they rhyme.
I don't know why I have decided that I enjoy the perverted pressure in writing research papers in the dwindling hours preceding their deadlines. Here are a few mediocre explanations:

1. I like to do things in and on my own time, which apparently, has lately been synonymous with "last second".
2. I don't like strangers with PhDs who passive-aggressively suggest to entire classes they should rearrange their entire schedules in order to encapsulate the life-altering importance of the assignment due on Friday March 4th at 5 pm, which is to be turned in to an unidentified (and ironically *nonexistent*) box or under the door.
3. I have better things to do- really. 

When I am an 80, I am more likely to remember that one time while I was writing a paper, my best friend called to tell me we were going to go get stuffed bagels and she'd be there in a second, and then when she got there and pounded on the door, and I answered, she demanded "do you have a gas can?" Then, as we walked down the block to quench her thirsty car, I made special note of the tie-dye and purple vans adorning her hungover body. And then I'll remember the car starting and her throwing it into gear and shouting "get in! get in! we don't have time to stop!" and how I had to run and jump into the moving vehicle. And then after getting bagels from a hole-in-the-wall we walked with a boy named Spike who wore glasses along the train tracks  to a park where the sneaky breeze convinced us to go back.  

And then I talked to a boy who lives far away, but he loves me, so it's okay...

And I did finish that paper, too, somewhere in the middle of all that life. But only because Mama didn't raise no quitter. 

And also because I'm weird and kind of do like writing papers. 

But make no mistake- I like boisterous best friends, bicycle boys, breezy days, and blueberry stuffed bagels WAY more.

 

articulate exhibitionist

you've got magic in you, girl
your body keeps a rhythm
listen-
the music's in your breath,
in your breast,
in your best intentions

let them see it
let them feel it
but when you reel it in
remember-
only let them hold it
for a couple sacred seconds

bless them with your presence
wrap them in your essence
bathe them in that moment
and always leave them knowing-

you've got magic in you, girl
it's in your eyes and glowing.

why not?

i don't know exactly who or what to thank, and i probably never will (it's the blurssing* of agnosticism) , so consider this an equal opportunity gratitude:

thank you for squinty-eye sunsets that warm my face in late afternoon.

thank you for people who have the wherewithal to do what they love, including but not limited to professors and parents.
thank you for free coffees from close friends, who believe they can stick it to the CEOs one latte at a time.
thank you for great-grandmas who give straight-up advice, and thank you for sisters who need it.
thank you for moms who are much more than mothers. 
thank you for stubborn, supportive daddys.
thank you for best friend brothers.
thank you for best friend bicycle boys.
thank you for OCD ADD LPs.
thank you for angels who swear.
thank you for the seasons, and the stars.
thank you for tastebuds and always having enough food to enjoy.
thank you for dreams, and restful sleep in a warm bed.
thank you for creativity and consciousness.

but most importantly, 
thank you,
            thank you,
                        thank you 
                                           for all the love, all the time.



*blessing + curse = blurssing

a healthy hunger

i am feeling restless in this skin.
i'm finally coming to terms with this simple fact:
there. are. no. rules.
obligations are silly constructs of the conscience, usually based in guilt and fear.
hoop-jumping is a learned behavior, and
i was never much for PE.

cue the juxtaposition:
i like to plan things. i like lists, and diagrams, and rubrics, and instructions. i like to scribble daily to-do's on napkins and paper bags. the irony is i often then leave said maps in my purse as un-winned trophies of the achievements i forgot to accomplish because life happened organically.

and that's just it- life happens organically. no matter how much i, or anybody, lays out renditions of supposed-to-be's, the universe trumps our silly, misguided notions of what could be the best-case-scenario.
every. fucking. time.

therefore, knowing this makes my lists seem futile in the first place, but i make them anyway. why? because as much as the proverbial "people" use cliches like "one day at a time," and stoners on couches in dim rooms sigh "just live in the moment, man," we all still think about the future. it's what separates us from everything else on the planet. it's what makes us human, it's how we contribute to this human condition.

these human brains of ours, they work backwards and forwards.
in the midst of all the rewinding and fast-forwarding, though,
the present is always what we're after.

epiphany: the future is always there, perfect and whole- as is the past.
but most importantly,
this present pulsing moment is what holds us.

so take a deep breath, renea, and hold it back.
hold this moment in your palm.
feel it for what it's worth.
lift it up,
open your hand,
and watch this tiny eternity dance into the eager void surrounding you.
you are this moment.
you have always been this moment.

it is immensely more beautiful
than you could have ever planned out
on a paper scrap.

pennies are pointless

hula hooping in precarious indoor coordinates
especially near flower vases
is perfectly acceptable
and even applauded

scarves and mumu dresses
lost-and-found too-smallish sunglasses
adorn this sun-dance, of sorts

freezer bags of clarity
ounce for ounce
are strewn about while
bottles of love light
compliment boxes of truffles
and trifles
and teeth used for smiles, for storytelling

family dinners require no blood relation
just the satisfaction
of feeding each others souls

mac and cheese and
chocolate cake
are the best therapies

these are the kinds of things
that happen
when parents
aren't present