Listen up, lady...

Things I would tell 19 year old Veronica: 

*The relationship you are in? The one that makes you feel old? Exhausts you? It won't last forever and you will feel nothing but relief. 

*The next relationship will totally change your life. You will not recognize yourself. 

*It's ok to ask for help. 

*The girl you are traveling with, the one getting you a drink as this photo is being taken taken, will prove to be (consistently) the only one to never turn you away. 

*Cherish that clear skin. Adult acne is a bitch (like everything, its mostly in your head. Work on that.) 

*Don't rush. Slow down. Smell things (coffee, roses, etc.) 

*Stop lying to yourself. Instead, start listening. You are right...sometimes. 

*Stop smoking. Seriously. 

*Gainesville will become home. Believe me. But it won't be too hard to leave and that is okay. 

*You will cry hysterically and spray champagne as a biracial man takes the office of President.  You will feel different. Something at the very core of you will change. That is called hope. 

*Stop wearing jean skirts. Gross. 

*You will be back to Europe with a motley crew of folks that will fascinate you, infuriate you, challenge you. They made Gainesville home. 

*You will (totally and completely) become a cat person.

*You will meet and be transformed by a terribly fancy boy. Follow your instincts. You will find  fulfilling, honest love. It will shock you. Accept it. 

*Don't worry about the future. You will be jobless, that nomadic spirit will not die (stop fighting it) and that curiosity that consistently gets you in trouble will define you. Embrace it. 

*Smile more. 

*If you feel like twirling, fucking twirl. 

Yes.

This. This right here. This moment. This is how its always supposed to be. Despite the distance and minor bumps, it's always been this. It easy to forget that I already know exactly how friendships should look. 

How about here?

Come stand next to me...

Havin' a classy...

I am learning to be comfortable with the idea that life can be uncomplicated (or less complicated,) exciting, full of bubbles, sunshine, vintage aprons and defined by the desire to twirl in the streets. Unadulterated glee and constant joy via the fanciest boy to ever say "I love you." Maybe I am amazed...

Sigh.

I imagine right now you're like a Cure song wrapped in vintage window dressing material, eating blueberry pancakes on pink plates in a wildflower field bathed in sunshine.

 

A Coney Island of the Mind

I stumbled upon this book of poetry by Lawrence Ferlinghetti when I was about 14. It has followed me since.

No. 21
She loved to look at flowers
smell fruit
And the leaves had the look of loving

But halfass drunken sailors
staggered thru her sleep
scattering semen
over the virgin landscape

At a certain age
her heart put about
searching for lost shores

And heard the green birds singing
from the other side of silence

Yes.

“It was not the passion that was new to her, it was the yearning adoration. She knew she had always feared it, for it left her helpless; she feared it still, lest if she adored him too much, then she would lose herself, become effaced, and she did not want to be effaced, a slave, like a savage woman. She must not become a slave. She feared her adoration, yet she would not at once fight against it.” — D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover