My Cardboard Balcony

New job's treating me well so far. Meeting new people. Working with new students. Definitely an experience to be working with middle schoolers and not just second graders. My sister got a new job, too, so now we can start searching for apartments. ...Yeah, I've got nothing else for now. Next week I'll have more. Getting into a new job is always kind of a doozy. Night, all.

An American in Dublin by Belinda Roddie You could be a black spot drifting in the corner of my eye, never leaving my sight for a second. We talk over pints, seafood chowder, and you ask me why I don’t go home. What defines home? You are more than just a speck. You are a boat floating in the Liffey. You carry me to sea. The work you see here was originally written on November 30th, 2010. It was last modified in 2011.

"How can you call this a story? The narrative's way too scrambled! What the...?" She continued to berate me and my fiction as she skimmed the pages, barely even glancing at the dialogue and prose that I had so laboriously worked on. Beside me, my tabby cat was scowling at her through narrow yellow eyes. He grumbled somewhat, rolled on his side, and pawed at me.