My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie I feel like a monster. I look like one, too. And I think I smell like one, too. Mothballs and moldy socks. Rotten meat and vegetables. It's like I've climbed out of a garbage can and crawled under a bed. My husband says he'll leave me if I don't shower. My son wants me to get a haircut. I don't want to feel warm water on my skin. Or shampoo on my scalp. It's like pins and needles being stabbed into my pores. I don't know why I'm like this. I hate that I'm like this. I'm yelling before. Well, more roaring. It's becoming incoherent. My daughter cries constantly. She says she doesn't recognize me. I don't recognize myself, either. I used to be blonde. I used to be pretty. I used to wear blue eyeshadow and red lipstick. I used to put on deodorant and wear nice pantsuits to work. Then the company laid me off. And then my diet turned to shit. And then the moods started again. The goddamn moods. They always ruin...

The birthday party wasn't so much a get-together as it was...well, a circus. Not that there were any cool elements of said circus there, like lions and trapeze artists and giant rings of fire. But there were certainly a whole lot of clowns. Not clowns in make-up with wigs and big shoes (well, save for Billy Delainey regarding his big boots), but in demeanor entirely. And I wasn't laughing. "You can't eat the cake yet!" I shouted at sixty-five-year-old Ryan O'Malley, who had decided to try to take a bite directly from the spongey base before I had even lit the candles.

This week got rough toward the end. I had to confront a lot of the stuff I talked about in my last introspection - my arbitrarily high expectations of myself and my work, the stress of my job, the amount of anxiety I place on my own brain on a daily basis. I nearly broke down in front of my students a couple of days ago, and now I'm currently dealing with volumes of emails regarding all sorts of technical difficulties regarding the yearbook. So, yeah. That's all fun and games, isn't it? Fortunately, I got to end tonight with an improv show, some grilled cheese, and The Great British Bake-Off with my true love. Our second wedding anniversary's coming up fast, which is hard to believe. I think there's so much I'm coping with in my little communal bubble, as well as all the craziness and awfulness in the real world (especially in my country. Because of course it's in my country), and it's hard to keep track of the good things. And when I get into thos...

Having A Soul 101 by Belinda Roddie Seriously, how hard is it to learn empathy these days?

Spaghetti and Meatballs by Belinda Roddie Spaghetti and meatballs fill up my plate as I serve the whole family, and we enjoy the meal. We aim to celebrate another year of simple revelry, as well as my dear wife's latest birthday. There she is, all pink-lipped and rosy-cheeked, sending sweet, lopsided smiles my way, making everything below my waist weak. Spaghetti is her favorite dish, you see, and I don't mind; it's quite easy to make, and it is delicious, obviously. I do prefer to boil rather than bake, and so I offer seconds to my kin and my sweet bride, white cheese across her grin.