breakfast.

in




i'm feeling a little ...

hmm...

i don't know what i'm feeling this morning.

my ears are itching. allergies have taken hold.
my parents leave for morocco today. i wish i was with them.
i am missing home desperately.

and i'm scared.
(huh.
yup, that's it.
that's what i'm feeling).

overwhelmed by life itself.
oh, did i tell you that i'm leaving new york for the summer?
for three months.
i'm headed to a land many of you might have heard of:
utah?
yes, utah.
i'm going to find out about a life.
but more on that later.

for now i'm just thankful for meaningful breakfasts.
meaningful breakfasts are a better attempt at equilibrium than anything else i can think of (today at least).

umbrella.

in

last night i dreamt that a man i once loved lent me an umbrella.


i awoke feeling slightly unsettled.

does this mean the metaphorical rains are headed my way?

perhaps.

but maybe it also means that the umbrella will be there just at the exact moment the sky opens up and the landscape of my life begins to shift.

home.

in ,

there's a corner store that my roommate amanda likes to go to when she's feeling homesick.

they carry maltas and all goya products. sugar candies and spanish coca-colas. and after just a moment she feels like she's back home in puerto rico.

i thought long and hard about where i can go when i'm feeling homesick for texas.




and baskin robbins was the best i could come up with.

it's no bluebell, but it'll do.

in


we do not grow absolutely, chronologically.

we grow sometimes in one dimension,
and not in another; unevenly.
we grow partially. we are relative.
we are mature in one realm, childish in another.
the past, the present, and future mingle
and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present.
we are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

anais nin