Yesterday

I can't believe I am saying this.

But I am. I am saying it.

I'm taking a break from Bethany's Freelance Life.

I started this blog to chronicle the ups and downs of starting a freelance writing career. I did not love freelance writing.

However, I completely fell in like with writing this blog. I kept it going long after the career ended.

Why didn't I like the freelance life, you ask? Mostly, I really, really like having a job outside my house. I like dressing up, wearing heels, and having hallway conversations. I could certainly dress up and talk to myself at home, but that would be weird. Plus, I found a boss who lets me write writey things.

My life has gotten exciting and busy lately. I am working, going to school, teaching classes, and raising a couple of tiny humans. I have been thinking about my new schedule. I knew I had to cut something, but what?

If I want professional contacts and silly conversations, I have twitter.

If I want adorable pictures of puppies and Colin Firth, I have tumblr.

If I want deep conversations, I have bethany austin smith (at) gmail (dot) com.

(If you want any of these things, now you know where to find me.)

If I want to write... well... I should be writing! These research papers are not going to write themselves.  And instead of writing research papers, I've been blogging. My blog is not a bad thing, but it's not getting me any closer to my goals.

This blog, for writer-me, has become counter-productive.

I decided I will not delete any (more) posts. Grammar errors and all, these posts are a part of my story, and I don't mind my story sticking around for a while.

When in comes to writing this blog, the feedback, writing practice, and sense of community have been invaluable.

Enough about me. I have lost count of how many great people I met here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelingy-feelings. Thank you for your honesty and vulnerability. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being so adorable and lovely.

Just so you know: you are stronger than you imagine. You are more wonderful than you will ever understand. You are not forgotten. You are loved.

Note: I have stared at this post for four days. It is time to be decisive and publish.

Don't be a stranger,

Bethany

Fake Empire

We are talking at a party.

She is using her ring finger to fix her makeup, to wipe her eyes.

Really, it can be anything. The burn of sunscreen after a long summer day. Allergies. The mascara, eyeliner, shadow combination that looks beautiful, but never seems to stay.

I know it can be any of these things. The only thing I can think: she's crying.

The tears have been locked away, and she doesn't notice that they have begun to push their way to the surface. She doesn't know that this is an inappropriate emotional response, that she can't hold these things in because they begin to leak. She doesn't know that she can't ever pretend it away... it only comes back to haunt her when she least expects it.

I want to give her a hug, tell her it will be OK. I want to tell her I am a great listener, tell her I cry at all the wrong times. But she is laughing and nodding and telling a funny story.

I laugh and nod, too.

What would life look like if we always told the truth... if we always said exactly what we were thinking?

Halfway Decisive

I've been thinking about my One Word 2011 lately.

Honesty clause: I had this thought: "I really should write about my One Word again."

And then I had THIS thought: "What WAS my One Word?!?" I looked it up, and THEN I started thinking about my One Word.

And THEN I got an email from Alece saying the year was half-way over.

THE YEAR IS HALFWAY OVER!!!

Yowza. So. In case you forgot, as I did, I looked the word up for both of us.

DECISIVENESS.

If I'm not mistaken, the last time I wrote about this, I said something like, "I'm not sure I really feel like being decisive." That was... ahem... a while ago.

So, no. I don't feel like being decisive. Sheesh. This word is in my life for a reason.

However. I thought and thought and thought, and I decided that DECISIVENESS has sneakily crept into my thick skull.

Things I have been decisive about:

1. School: I (re-)enrolled. I begged, borrowed, and stole tuition. Well. One of those.
2. Work: I like it. I have to do it. I am (mostly) over the Mommy guilt.
3. "The "Grey's Anatomy" Project: Somewhere in the second season, I stopped watching. I decided I wanted to see, so I've been seeing it. A lot. I see it every day. My goal, stupid though it may be, is to get all caught up before fall classes start.

My mother is very proud.

Foodie Suffering

How YOU doin'?

I totally like you. You are very attractive. I just wanted you to know.

Want to hear a story?

I went out to dinner last night. (Aside: A VERY GROWN UP DINNER. WITH CALAMARI SHOOTERS AND OTHER VERY GROWN UP FOODS. AND VERY GROWN UP CONVERSATION. AND NO NON-GROWN UPS.)

Where was I?

Oh. Right here.

This? This talking to scary, random strangers? This is very new for me. It's like I'm a very grown up, non-fearful, nearly functional adult.

I somehow talked to random people, and now I have five new Facebook friends. Because really? I can't talk to people and not add them. I'm that girl.

Oh, and calamari shooters? Um... you don't even want to know.

Brooklyn, Brooklyn Take Me In

Finally, FINALLY, Blogger made (or I just found?) the mobile version. Look on your phone-ies and tell me if it looks good.

Or, ya know... don't, and just keep coming back. I'll figure it out.

Sorry you came here for this. I have nothing to say today. 

My life is very deja-vu-ish. I have lived this week before.... i.e... I have blogged about this week before. So random.

Oh! I had a dream about New York. Like. Real estate in New York. Like. I had a dream about NUMBERS. I really thought I was content. Thanks a lot, subconscious. 

What's new with you? Or the same? 

What's the same with you?

Is It Drafty In Here?

Sometimes, I'll start one of these (or an email, for that matter), and it never gets past the title.

Sometimes, I will finish one of these, (or an email for, for that matter), and it doesn't publish, and I take it as a sign. I leave it unpublished. I'm loser-y that way.

Sometimes, I will have one great sentence, but nothing to develop it... no words (friends?) for backup.

Do you like Words With Friends? We should play. Wow. I got distracted. Sorry.

Anyway. The creative process is infinitely fascinating to me. HOW (the process) of how people write is area of study in Rhetoric & Composition, and the fact that I get to study something I kinda like is kinda great.

How I am compsing this draft, for example? One my iPod. On my thumbs. On vacation. First draft. Low battery. No spell check. For writing practice. To say hello. Hello.

Armor Doesn't Work When It's on the Ground

The problem with getting close to people is that those become the people who know exactly how to hurt you.

They know the soft spots.

They have power.

They know it's not extra work. It's just a little to the left.

And so sometimes, they do. They hurt.

They take aim at the one place we couldn't bear to be hit.

So we put on armor. We protect those places. We don't let anybody get near them. 

But then we notice the armor. It's heavy. Heavy hurts. We are told... "THEY" tell us... that armor is wrong.

So we lower the armor. Confess the weak spots. And then we get hurt. AGAIN.

We get hurt again.

It hurts. Worse, maybe, because we, "knew better." We knew better, but tried anyway...

.... because we wanted someone to love us anyway.

But still. Hope. We still Hope. We still HOPE.