My Cardboard Balcony

Welp, the first official week of school has come and gone. Some summer classes I've been teaching are wrapping up. New classes are starting. I'm facing new challenges but also enjoying every minute in the classroom. It may sound strange to some people, but I love being a teacher. The workload, though heavy, is enjoyable, and I absolutely love my coworkers (even though they teased me quite a bit tonight for an admittedly rather "impressive" brain fart - don't worry, I know the difference between the United States flag and the transgender pride flag. I was tired and confused. I'm not stupid. I promise). Of course, being this busy does affect the quality of my writing - or at least the length of that - and I'm sorry about that. I'll do my best to produce the best poetry and fiction I can. It's just that my job is taking up a considerable amount of my time, and when I get home in the evenings, I'm pretty worn out. Working also means that I have t...

I Hate Carrying This by Belinda Roddie Embarrassment doesn't ache or sting. It's heavy. It's a burden.

I wasn't quite sure what exactly happened at first, but when I awoke in a white, crisp hospital bed, I was told that I collapsed in the parking lot as I was walking toward the department store. The doctors had ruled out a heart attack, but they also couldn't blame the heat (which had, indeed, been awful). Of course, in my state of disorientation, all I could think of was: Well, so much for buying a new shirt for the wedding.