My Cardboard Balcony

So, after heartily enjoying Pi Day with my sister and my girlfriend, here is the scattered shrapnel of my week. Mainly, similar stuff to what I talked about last week. I went to the orientation for SSU's teaching credential program, and again, my going into this program heavily relies on what potential financial assistance I get. I may possibly be going back into an education job, albeit a temporary one, to supplement my income from the bookstore - interview's on Monday. Of course, I'm still working and writing - I'm on Chapter Five in my sci-fi novel, so I'm excited about that. And really, that's about it. This is just the way introspections fluctuate, my dear few readers. Some weeks are more interesting than others. Writer's Quotation of the Night: I never asked Tolstoy to write for me, a little colored girl in Lorain, Ohio. I never asked [James] Joyce not to mention Catholicism or the world of Dublin. Never. And I don't know why I should be as...

"Caramel Kisses" is an unfinished novel I began to write back in 2009 and stopped working on in 2010. The two main characters - Adriana Maguire Reynard and Emma Burking - would ultimately be revised for my later completed novella, "The Liffey Is Half-Asleep," in 2011. Several elements of "Liffey" can be found in their original forms in "Caramel Kisses," such as the characters' names, the haiku scene, and Adriana's penchant for writing. Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing. Caramel Kisses: Chapter Seventeen by Belinda Roddie “They want to bring it to the Orpheum,” announced Hudd as he swooped me into a hug that lifted me off my feet and overlooked his tiny stature. “Really?” I gasped, as he set me down and my feet shook noticeably on the plush carpet. I was worried my ankles would give out; I felt completely disjointed from the whole experience. ...

We had the chance to compete in the high school Jeopardy! match that year, an honor that usually only juniors and seniors got. Randall and I, on the contrary, were freshmen. Sure, the upper classmen certainly raised a stink, but Missus Suthers put a cork in that very quickly. "They get better grades than most of you in the school," she commented, "and now you're complaining that they're being given the same opportunity as you as a result?"

The Barrels Leaked by Belinda Roddie The barrels leaked, and wine belched from the cracks onto the cellar floor, staining it red. I watched with puzzlement as pinot splashed across the wood, then called for Mister Zedd, the manager of the winery. He said, "grab a couple glasses. We'll make due." I filled six cups with spraying burgundy, then thirteen more with Zinfandel that spewed from the corner barrel, the splits revealed in the oak. I couldn't believe my eyes. How badly had old, worn Mister Zedd sealed away the wine? I now stood ankle-high in the stuff. The spill never slowed itself, so I grabbed more jugs from the cupboard shelf.

"I've never been a good swimmer." "It's okay. Trust me. I'll be right beside you if you need support." "Okay." "Okay?" "Okay." I inhaled. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay." I got waist-deep into the creek before I froze. She waded toward me and put her arms tightly across my shoulders, holding me against her bosom. I exhaled. I felt very warm. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she reminded me. "Oh, but I so want to now," I half-whispered, half-moaned.

You Slept With Sean by Belinda Roddie He had an air mattress pumped for two, the crumbs of bagel bites still on the rug. He bellowed like train wheels in his sleep. You remembered to lock the door. When you woke up, he was already making eggs, and you wanted tabasco sauce with your meal, but all he had was ketchup, so you knew it was just a fling.

I knew every card dealer in the casino personally, so I was put at a table with a machine and had to deal with the clicks and whirs of the aces and spades and hearts and jacks being shuffled and spewed at me. At this point, it was me against the mechanical dealer. No one else bid on my money - the owner wanted me to lose. He wanted me, for once in my life, not to walk away with double or triple the amount I had walked in with. I walked out with quadruple the amount that night.