My Cardboard Balcony

"I'm inadequate. I'm not much use to anyone." "Don't say that." He shakes his head. "I'm not backtracking. It's true." "You're use to people! You're use to me. And what does it matter how 'useful' you are? Fuck people. You don't have to be 'useful.' You're not a cellphone. You're not a computer. You're a person. And you don't need others to evaluate how much you contribute."

Hi, everyone. In honor of National Novel Writing Month, I am holding off on Storyteller until December. I have indeed started a novel (as of now untitled), and I will be providing updates in the place of a typical prompted story. So let's see where I am right now: As of November 3rd, I have: - Outlined my novel to the last detail - Written approximately 7,200 words within six or so hours - Thanked Perks Of Being A Wallflower for not only being inspiration for writing again, but also for being a damn good movie. I'll update you guys next week! Cheers, Belinda

The question on the quiz asked what my three main interests were. Which confused me. It was of course only the first day of class, so getting a quiz right then and there seemed bizarre. But there was the professor, propped up on top of her desk, leaving the chair provided for her abandoned. The sleeves of her blazer were rolled up, exposing her tanned forearms. She seemed to stare off into space. It was like she was giving us a survey. I didn't know how to respond.

This week has been particularly rough. More difficult time with my students. More difficult time getting my work done. Not as inspired. Fighting a cold. Overall anxious about the political landscape. This election is eating me alive mentally. At least Halloween was good. I was a Hobbit. My name was Bramblerose Brambleburr of Bindale Wood. Seeing as this was a particularly rough week and today was a particularly rough day, I figured introspection can be brief and rest can be more important at this moment. In the end, I can't have a clear mind without self-care. Soon, I have to really plunge into reality, nose first, and re-surface with something in both my hands. We'll see if an application for a teaching credential program is one of them. Maybe a handful of query letters to publishing houses for my novel. But for now, sleep. Good old-fashioned subconscious state, REM paranoid laced with calm relaxation and oh God I'm so tired I'm getting more poetic I'll stop ri...

Passion's Order by Belinda Roddie A captain and his sergeant dreamt of a state That dipped sinners in gold with no held debate And they said, as they kissed each other’s skin, “Tonight we begin.” The president was thrown from the seventeenth floor Into seven thousand pairs of arms that bore Him into the shadows both Hellish and serene. The two laid the scene, their patience thin. “Tonight, we win.” For twenty-five years, they ruled their new state But they both grew psychotic from romance and hate For in their reign they were forced to separate To keep every matter straight. The captain laid his hands upon her chin. “Tonight, we give in.” Their passion was strong, but the council it tore The uniforms and the badges they wore Could not sustain the weary people for long They desired a new song, to make gold from tin. So the lovers gave in. The sergeant grew ill from his lover’s bad state For only on him could he concentrate, And...

"Stand guard. I'll go in through the window." But she couldn't fit. Her shoulders were too wide. She lifted herself up from the opened frame and stretched, sighing in exasperation. "Okay, then. I'll stand guard, and you go in through the window." "Are you kidding me? I'm bigger than you." "Okay, maybe you're rounder...but you're more pliable!" "You're saying I'm squishy?" "Yes, I'm saying you're squishy! I'm not! Help me out, will you?"

The Apprentice Sat Sleeping by Belinda Roddie The apprentice sat sleeping all through the month of November, little furry leaves collecting all around his bare ankles and frosting his toenails in autumn's weave. The mage returned in winter, pearly white from blizzard's conversation in the wood. She frowned, taking time to slowly recite the incantation, wind caught where she stood. The apprentice stirred somewhat, blinking dreams away from his eyes, stretching, yawning quite loudly, and then squeaked as his calm, pristine teacher tapped her foot impatiently. "Right," she said, "remind me never to let you try that spell again. I'd be sleeping, too!"