My Cardboard Balcony

Friends. I think a lot of people underestimate how powerful friends are. The friends you go out for a drink with. The friends you play miniature golf with. The friends whose sweaters you cry into, when you feel like everything's disintegrating and there's a patch of dust where your sturdy skeleton used to be. It's spring break for me right now, and being that I work at a school, I've got no work at my site. Ergo, I'm housesitting for a friend of my mom's. They've got a cute, young dog to feed and take care of, and they even told me that I could have friends over for a barbecue. I've counted. Number of friends I have in close(ish) proximity: Five. And more than half of them I barely get the chance to see. I know I should count my blessings for even having a handful of friends. Many of my friends, however, are down south. And yes, time and time again on my blog, I've bitched and moaned about how far away I am from them. Here's the kicker: I&#

New As Queer by Belinda Roddie The anxiety-inducing truth is that to some people the word "queer" was meant for us, defined for us, like we're condensed onto one page of a dichotomy. Because if you look at that tiny text, you see that queer links to the strange, the odd, the different, the deviant. The deviant. Like we're all meant to marry in white gowns and tailored tuxedos and then fuck each other silly and have ten children with scooters or easy-bake ovens. Okay. So I'm the deviant. I'm the deviant from a reproductive standpoint, because I'm not scouring my street for a mate and popping out a litter for the survival of my species. Although given the everchanging statistics of a world that doesn't have enough dry land to hold eight billion people on dirt, you'd think I'm doing the world a fucking favor because I love being the deviant. I adore being the deviant because I'm queer, and you'r

Lot of these popping up, eh? Yeah, no new OneWord prompt today. Whims of the Time Traveler and Introspection are upcoming, though!