My Cardboard Balcony

Welp. It's that time of year again. Time for another birthday. This upcoming Sunday (yes, also on Father's Day. I know. That's happened a few times), I will be turning twenty-six years old. Quite frankly, I prefer being twenty-five. It's a solid age, and I got a lot done at that age. I wrote two new plays and a potential mini-series, I started a second job, and I finished up a year of my teaching credential classes. I met a lot of new great people, and I get to say that I've been engaged to my beautiful fiancée for over a year. Twenty-five was, for the most part, a really good year. Not a bad quarter century mark. Twenty-six, I'm sure, will be just as good. I'm just picky about numbers, I guess. Meh. I got enough grant and scholarship money to continue going to my school and will be student teaching in the fall. I have started a potential writing collaboration product with a bookstore coworker of mine - we'll see. I've been able to get most of ...

We'll Turn Them Into Ninjas by Belinda Roddie If we train mutant raccoons and take notes, it's science.

I have been engaged for over one year now. My relationship is ninety percent perfect. I'm not going to say one hundred percent because that's not reasonable. There are times when we need space, when we say the wrong thing, when touching one another brings more prickling than warmth. But that's only ten percent. The other ninety percent is laughter, kisses, and outings. It's bad jokes and cuddling. It's getting frisky and getting serious. It's creativity, art, and music. Ninety percent is perfect. I can endure the other ten.