My Cardboard Balcony

I could be introspective tonight... but nope. I'm too sleepy. Big week coming up, though, including: - More work - Maker Faire - Party seeing off my former assistant manager - Third year anniversary with my girlfriend And that's just the beginning. More info on the last one later. Night, all.

This is an untitled, unfinished novel that was technically left alone in late 2008. However, the last time it was modified and checked for errors was 2011, where upon I decided that the absurdity of the plot combined with the sloppy British research was too much for the story to continue. However, seeing as this is Whims of the Time Traveler, it's a perfect example of my first attempt at long fiction, so I've decided to unabashedly display it. Have fun. Untitled: Prologue by Belinda Roddie There are three different kinds of people in the world: Those who find themselves straightaway, those who find themselves through experience, and those who never find themselves at all. If you’re one of the people who believe that no one searches and comes up with at least one jewel from some unknown treasure cove, then you haven’t looked at the intricate details. Plenty have found a purpose or a true meaning to who they are. They just aren’t the majority of the population. Of co...

In order to finish the project, I had to backtrack. But I didn't want to backtrack. I wanted it to be done. I wanted it to be done so I could open another bottle of wine in celebration rather than shame. So I could drink half of the Riesling and then dance in my boxers without feeling like I was being judged. So I could get the artificial courage to email my boss and attach a picture of my snarling face shooting two birds from my hands, telling me I was quitting and moving to Nepal.