Bradensota

Yesterday, as a sort of birthday inspiration, a former professor of mine suggested that I “write something smart and funny.” Of course that would be enough of a challenge on my most prolific of days, but it’s even more of one considering I’ve got about an hour before I’ll have let the entire month of April go by without writing anything here. And we can’t have that, so here are some words. I can’t promise “smart and funny,” but I can promise words that form sentences that hopefully combine into a coherent thought process.

I’ve been home now for more than a month, and I don’t think I want to sit and write--and I know you don’t want to sit and read--every detail of what’s happened in that time, so how about a semi-comprehensive run-on? Remember that part about “a coherent thought process”? Let’s put that on hold for the moment.

I started an editorial internship at Sarasota magazine which is awesome and I’m learning a ton and I get to write articles for the website about film parties and chili and sand mandalas and then my uncle bought back the magazine and I went to a crazy fun wedding in Jacksonville and missed all my friends there then my mom got engaged (!) then I started helping out with web stuff at the magazine and they’re paying me now so I guess it’s not really an internship anymore and everybody makes the same joke about how amazing it is that my English degree is actually getting me paid and I nod and laugh like I haven’t heard that one before and I’ve been going to a bunch of Little League games which stirs up all sorts of good memories and last Thursday was two years since Dad died and that slowed down all the newness and made everything feel quiet for a few hours and this Thursday was probably the most mellow birthday I’ve ever had but it felt complete and ended outside watching my friend David in a concert that was fun and lovely and it was so beautiful outside and sometimes I miss California and a lot of times I miss Jacksonville but mostly it’s good to be here and I think I might be around for a while.

And...breathe.

Let’s blame my silence here on a transitional moment in life. I’m settling into a routine at work, which means I might start to write on this thing somewhat regularly again. But maybe not. I’ve been surprised by how little free time I have, and I want to keep working on short stories to submit, so it’s possible that my words here will be more infrequent. We’ll see. In the meantime, if you get a hankering for some Beau words, you can check the magazine’s website (www.sarasotamagazine.com) and see if I have anything new there. Then you can write long letters to the editors about how moved you were and how, in your professional opinion, they should quadruple my pay.

I’ll try to write about big changes on here, at work or in life or about the process of finding somewhere to live come July. And of course when I have both the thoughts and the time I’ll share some of the stories and moments that are my absolute favorite things to write about.

For now, I’ll leave you with some Berry words. Wendell Berry, not fruit. From Jayber Crow:

“I knew too that this new war was not even new but was only the old one come again. And what caused it? It was caused, I thought, by people failing to love one another, failing to love their enemies. I was glad enough that I had not become a preacher, and so would not have to go through a war pretending that Jesus had not told us to love our enemies.”

“If you could do it, I supposed, it would be a good idea to live your life in a straight line--starting, say, in the Dark Wood of Error, and proceeding by logical steps through Hell and Purgatory and into Heaven. Or you could take the King’s Highway past appropriately named dangers, toils, and snares, and finally cross the River of Death and enter the Celestial City. But that is not the way I have done it, so far. I am a pilgrim, but my pilgrimage has been wandering and unmarked. Often what has looked like a straight line to me has been a circle or a doubling back. I have been in the Dark Wood of Error any number of times. I have known something of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven, but not always in that order. The names of many snares and dangers have been made known to me, but I have seen them only in looking back. Often I have not known where I was going until I was already there. I have had my share of desires and goals, but my life has come to me or I have gone to it mainly by way of mistakes and surprises. Often I have received better than I have deserved. Often my fairest hopes have rested on bad mistakes. I am an ignorant pilgrim, crossing a dark valley. And yet for a long time, looking back, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I have been led--make of that what you will.”

Remember love.