Wednesday, August 16, 2017


I have so many things I want to write and post and journal about.

There are so many new things I want and need to discuss. Work news and friend news and writing news and even some boy news.

And yet every time, I want to write about the happenings of my life I am paralyzed by the state of America.

I am paralyzed and ashamed and frightened and stunned into complete and utter shock and silence.

I am devastated by what happened in Virginia this weekend. I am devastated for the family of three people whose lives were lost. Especially Heather, who could have been me or any of my friends who continually speak out and show up against racism and sexism and goddamn Nazi's.

But more than anything, I am infuriated, nauseated and full of rage towards 45 who continues to show he is not morally, ethically or mentally fit to be the president of the united states.

I am a brown skinned, liberal, environmentally conscious, feminist woman who is against racism, sexism, homophobia, religious intolerance and any form of discrimination towards any group that praises exclusion and suppression.

I am also a young woman trying to be a financially stable and emotional equipped person full of love and compassion for all. I am a person trying to figure out my place in the world, so I can start reaping the benefits of a fulfilling life.

But that growth seems stunted as my country systematically reverts to a time full of such hatred and uncertainty.

My name is Beckett Amelia Hughes. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend and a human fucking being whose never been more afraid in my young life that the country I know and love is slowly leaning toward indecency.

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

Sunday, August 06, 2017

San Francisco



So California is sort of paradise. Absolutely, paradise. 








Sunday, July 16, 2017

Vacation on My Mind


Two weeks from today, I will be in San Francisco. Holy Shit. 

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Difficult Women


Last night I had a dream I was drowning. Or rather, I had a dream someone was trying to drown me.

I've been watching a lot of shows and reading a lot of books about "difficult" women. It seems fitting with everything going on in the world that I turn to complex and honest representation of women in the arts for comfort and perhaps hope. If you haven't seen the Handmaid's tale, you should. If you haven't read Shrill by Lindy West, you need to. Even Big Little Lies was an extraordinary series about womanhood, despite how much I hated the book.

In 2017, being a women is still incredibly hard and for the first time in my lifetime I see myself and identify myself as a women and not just a girl anymore. This is a very hard admission; one that actually occurred after reading one of those age related list (things to do before you are 30) on Buzzfeed that suddenly I was excluded from. By a whole damn year of all things. I have some how surpassed that "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman" phase and am aware that despite the fact that yes, I ate waffles for dinner last night wearing a buffy t-shirt while watching a marathon of Top Chef on Hulu...I am not really a girl anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I have more girlish moments than womanly ones but as I watch the world unfold around me, as I try to circumvent my life and figure out my wants, I recognize that my anxieties and fears and apprehensions and even dread have much to do with the fact that I am a woman all of a sudden. I have this newly acquired agency, one of those being my womanhood, in a world which constantly tells me I am less than. And this is terrifying.

So it's no wonder that I had a dream last night about drowning. I was on vacation with my dream husband and dream best friend. We had a house on the lake with a small boat port overlooking the water. My dream husband starts walking down the port towards the boat and that's when my dream best friend tells me she has been sleeping with my husband. I am of course filled with rage and anger and even a little bit of jealousy. She saunters after him and it is at this moment that I yell that i have been sleeping with her husband (his best friend) because I am full of spite and fury. She charges at me and I fall into the water. There is a moment where I am sinking, sinking, sinking towards what can only be the abyss and then suddenly I am gasping for air and swimming towards the shore.

My husband(now also in the water) is shouting at me. He is wearing a red shirt, so I almost mistake him for a life vest, I think he is there to save me despite both of our betrayals . But instead of rescuing me, he grabs at my legs and starts to drag me back under water where I can't breathe. There is a struggle and flailing limbs. There is so much water, I am blinded by it until there is nothing but the sea. And then I wake up because where else was my crazy drowning dream supposed to go. I was drowning.

I wonder if the dream has anything to do with my own feelings of being a "difficult' woman. Of my sudden feeling of submergence. Because in my transition from difficult girl, to difficult teen to difficult young adult, I know that I was born to be a difficult woman. I was born to want things that I shouldn't want and to say things i shouldn't say and act in ways that are counter productive to what is expected of my "gender" And for most of my life I have been proud of this title, even when i didn't know it applied to me, because there hasn't been any direct consequence.

But now, I feel on borrowed time. Now I feel as if I am supposed to all of a sudden know exactly what I want in life so I can set the course of my future. But i honestly don't know what I want. I never have. It's a part of what has and will always make me difficult. But when I was a  teenager that's to be expected, when I was in college this directionless, without a clue way of life was okay, in my 20's it's pretty much what was to be expected. But now i'm in my 30's it feels a little irresponsible and scary because I am still this difficult person who is now struggling to stay afloat. I often feel like I am flailing in turbulent waters, and no matter which way I turn, I am no closer to the shore.

Maybe I should stop overthinking it all.  Maybe I should look at all the small achievements I have thus far accomplished. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself.






Sunday, June 25, 2017

California


When I first moved to New York, I befriended this awesome chick named Angie who seemed to be going through the same "what the fuck am I doing with my life" post college crisis as I was. Everyone seems to forget the financial crisis of 2008, except a) people who lost a shit ton of money and b) graduates who couldn't find a job right out of college. I knew nothing about finance or politics or the real world 9 years ago, I still don't, but i do remember graduating college, moving to New York and struggling to find a real job. This struggle l lasted 6 1/2 years.

Luckily I was the only one suffering. The only job that would hire me was the bookstore and  I was pretty disappointed but glad to be surrounded by other disillusioned people. Post grad life was supposed to be a breeze. I was going to land my dream job in publishing and move to the city and date a cute boy from Scotland (my dreams always include a cute boy from Scotland). I was supposed to be living the life. Instead, my first job was as a bookseller making minimum wage. I lived in a closet sized room at my aunts house (before she kicked me out) AND I missed home. I missed it a lot.

Things only  started to perk up a little when I met Angie. She was a few years older than me and began working at the bookstore after getting laid off from her "real world job". She was this boisterous, loud, funny, awkward, flirtatious, brilliant girl from the Midwest who I immediately got along with. She was my first real friend in New York and for a few solid months we hung out almost everyday. She lived right down the street from my aunts house, so before going home, I'd stop by her apartment so we could drink alcohol and discuss feminism, politics, books, men and pop culture.

I was only ever used to having Amanda  as my friend, I was almost grateful when Angie came around.  I didn't think I was capable of making friends because my anxiety was still very crippling at that time. And all of a sudden here was this girl who was nothing like me who wanted to be my friend. We ate dinner together and spent days off in the city shopping for books and laughing. Sometimes she would even call me in the middle of the night to ask if i wanted to go driving with her. She was a night owl, so we'd take to the back-roads at midnight and just drive around and talk about everything in our heads. It's one of my earliest and fondest memories of New York feeling like home.

During Barack Obama's inauguration, we both took the day off and made "American cupcakes" at her apartment. We camped out in front of the tv for hours, eating red, white and blue cupcakes and crying as we watched him get sworn in. We also did incredibly dumb things, like the  night we decided to rent In the Cut because we heard there was a full frontal Mark Ruffalo scene. After work, we went to her apartment discussed the brilliant book by Susanna Moore and then freeze framed the full frontal shot of Mark Ruffalo as we critiqued his penis and drank Vodka Lemonade.  We both approved in our giggly tipsy state.

Her friendship during those dark post college months made things bearable and when she moved back home a few months later, due to finances, I was devastated. Of course we promised to keep in touch and would visit but it didn't feel the same when she left. I'd only known her a few months but I felt like i'd lost something huge.

Surprisingly, we've managed to stay in touch the last 8 years which is a feat with someone as flaky and nonchalant as myself. She's made treks back to New York occasionally to attend a wedding and she always makes a point of contacting me so we can catch up. We talk every so often during the year  just to catch up and there is an ease and sustenance to our friendship that makes me happy to know her even from afar.

So when I posted on FB that i was heading to CA this summer, she let me know she is now living in San Francisco and would love to catch up! I am excited and nervous about this mini reunion, especially since I know we are now going through the same "what the fuck am I supposed to be doing with my life" stage.

I am reading this book called The Rules Do Not Apply, and so far it's the book I didn't know I needed. It's a memoir about loss. The author loses her child and spouse, and way of life in the span of a year and I think it's about how she manages to confront those loses head on. It's been on my radar for months and I finally got my hands on and spent a few nights after work pouring through chapters. Of course, her writing is beautiful and tragic and I am obsessed with every word because I relate in many ways.

I must admit, I am at a turning point in my life. It's not a crisis like the quarter-life or mid but it is definitely an apex or a fork in the road. Sure I have a full time job, money in a savings account, a car and an apartment. Sure there is the occasional outing, or dinner date, or weekend having brunch with a friend. Sure, I am comfortable and even clear headed these days but I can't shake the feeling of loneliness. Like actual loneliness. I can go days with out social interactions or plans. I have stability but feel starved of an actual foundation.

I can't shake this feeling that I am missing out on the life I really want for myself. A life that is filled with a friends and family and love. A life where I am needed and supported and depended on.

In many ways I have survived loss already. But I never imagined that loss comes in many different forms. I don't miss working at the bookstore, I don't miss Sean, I don't miss the codependency of my friendship with Kat. But I do miss what each represented. I miss belonging. I miss that feeling like never before because I've lost it. And though the bookstore and Kat and Sean especially were never really mine by choice, I miss having friends, i miss having a romantic partner, I miss being apart of a clique and crew and knowing my place.

There is a huge and distinctive loss in my life and some how in living and surviving and fighting for every damn penny, I've lost some things in the process I didn't know I needed so much. And i want them back, not in their previous fucked up form, but in the versions that I deserve and that compliment whoever it is that i am now. And i just don't know how to go about getting those things. They feel unattainable and yet also on the tip of my tongue.

So for now I am just sort of existing and going through the motions even though it's not enough for me anymore. In about a month, i'll be on my way California for a week and I kind of hope when I return I can begin setting things in motion. That I can maybe live up to my full potential (which is risky and scary and gives me anxiety) instead of just sitting on the side-lines.

Monday, June 19, 2017

nolite te bastardes carborundorum

Mondays are the absolute worst. I'd hope this sentiment was just another adult lie, like eating healthy is fun and watching your friends have children and getting wedding invites is exciting. They aren't. I want to eat whatever I want and not have to worry about gaining a ton of weight. And while I am happy that my friends are settling, I have no interest in attending so many weddings. Just stop it! 

But  every single person who hates Monday is absolutely correct. It's just the worst day of the week and though I spend most of Sunday prepping myself to have a better Monday than the last, it never fails. Monday rolls around and kicks my ass again.I can't deal.

Over the weekend, a customer sent an email to my company complaining about their website. As I am the only customer service representative in the company, my stomach sort of dropped when i saw the email. I'd never spoken to the office or dealt with them directly regarding their website but my primary job is overseeing edits and making sure IT makes corrections when needed.

So i was a little taken aback by the email. Something was on their website that shouldn't have been there and they couldn't understand how this big of a mistake could be made. I was equally confused. I checked all of my emails to see if I could have made this mistake. If I could have accidentally overlooked this technical error. But I couldn't find one piece of evidence. The mistake must have gone through another channel.

Knowing this gave me some relief if i can be honest. I am a person who takes full responsibility for my mistakes and will go out of my way to amend the mistake as soon as possible. But i don't like feeling guilty for something that wasn't my fault. I am sensitive to this sort of blame. So when i couldn't find anything that lead me to be a fault  I spent the next two days not thinking about work at all. I shopped for vacation clothe,  I cleaned my house and watched a shit load of movies.  You know, the usual care-free weekend.

But then Monday rolled around and as soon as I get to work, before I can even put down my bag I hear Creepy Guy talking about the massive error on the client's website. He says he found the culprit and then goes into my managers office and loudly proclaims that it was done by one of the IT guys per a marketing persons requests. The IT guy uploaded the wrong files and that is why the massive error was on the site BUT despite the evidence he was more concerned that "Beckett didn't catch the error a few weeks ago because you know, she should have"

Asaywhat?!

I could not control my anger. Let me break down his logic.  I should have caught the error on a website that I have never worked on, never seen because an IT guy was given explicit orders to make the edit without me knowing and fumbled it somehow. I should have caught an error for a site, I was never notified was being worked on. I should have known to double check someone else's work despite not knowing this person was working on said site.

The logic is flawed and while I am pissed I am not surprised that I got blamed for a mistake that a) wasn't my fault at all and b) happened a month ago. My job is killing me. Killing me. This is not what I am supposed to be doing with my life, at all, and i am trying not to let the "bastards get me down" but I am frustrated and angry.

I try not to complain because it's my first real job and I am grateful as hell to be able to pay rent and food and clothes without having to sacrifice things. I broke my fitbit watch last week and I was able to buy a new one because I now have a savings account for emergencies (grant it, the watch wasn't an emergency but I am so used to having a fitbit watch, it was weird not having one).  I am grateful that I was able to buy a car and book a vacation to California this summer because of my okay paying gig.  But outside of my paycheck, my job is an absolute clusterfuck.

Last week a girl got fired because she got into an argument with a really annoying marketing guy. I wouldn't even call it an argument. It was a disagreement. Unfortunately, the guy she argued with has been with the company for 5 years and she was immediately let go because they thought she brought too much drama to the company. This is the same company that doesn't have an HR department to handle such disagreement appropriately One the day they let her go my boss waited until the end of the day and asked everyone to leave the office for 15 minutes so he could fire her and leave the office with no one around. I was mortified.

My job is just a mess and days like today and I annoyed that I am not doing what I was meant to do. Don't get me wrong, I have no clue what my "calling" is but I know it isn't this. It can't be, right?
I am trying to hold on until after my vacation next month. I want to just enjoy a week in California with my brother and mom and then figured out the life stuff later. Cause unfortunately, i have a lot of life stuff to figure out and it's sort of piling up.