My Cardboard Balcony

This week has been a week of adaptation. I have had to adapt to lesson plans, filming, working with students at both my student teaching site and private school, schedules, wedding plans, and other such things. I have had many positive things happen in my week, but other things make me wary. I'm worried about falling behind in my classwork, and I have had to deal with hiccups in my process of obtaining my credential. Apparently, I still have to take a Constitution test despite taking AP U.S. History. Joy and jubilation. Next week is going to be a huge test of endurance, patience, and confidence. I will be filmed for PACT next week, to name the biggest thing. I know I can do this, and I know I can handle my class. But God, sometimes I wish certain things would be easier or just change. I wish the political climate would be less hostile and cruel and violent. I wish the world weren't bubbling like an overheated cauldron. I wish I could travel to New Zealand with my fiancée ...

It's Inevitable by Belinda Roddie This star will go out once you stop smiling, love.

Claudia loved it when people orbited around her. It was like she had a gravitational pull, an attraction that drew everyone of all genders, races, sizes, creeds, and interests. Just one glance in your direction and a batting of her naturally long eyelashes was enough to get half a dozen people scurrying over to her in class as soon as the biology professor told the students to get into pairs or small groups for lab time. The only person who didn't seem affected by her pheromones or behavior was, of course, yours truly.

The Teacher Left by Belinda Roddie The teacher left the students by themselves, and of course, all of them just went berserk, flipping tables and turning over shelves of books. They put the younger kids to work turning on the computers so they could play online games and blast loud music. One student went outside and jumped on the hood of the principal's car. She had begun an all-out riot at the school. Students poured out of their classrooms and pulled alarms, tearing up papers and sending parents and mentors alike into madness. Charms would not calm the kids, nor would sweets or tears. This day would be remembered through the years.

The projector wasn't working, so the class couldn't see the film, and they were less than thrilled. Still, the substitute, Mister Hervsheim, did his best to entertain the class. He even offered to a read a book aloud to them, but considering that he was dealing with restless and rambunctious eleven-year-olds who only wanted to stare at a screen for the whole class, the suggestion wasn't exactly received in a positive way.

This Week Won't Die by Belinda Roddie Wednesday's when I get the blues and stitch up my sighs in a burlap sack. I grab something sweet to eat, head to the abandoned railroad tracks, and dip my toes into rain puddles after stripping off my war veteran shoes. Thursday's not much better, so Wednesday will do. I'll savor the flavor of a meager morning, then survive the afternoon after some breathing exercises. After sorrow, it's the panic I have to deal with, blow by blow, attack by attack, and it's always so fucking sharp. I haul my ass back home when the evening's too old. When it's young, I draw circles in my head, like a halo to make me holy for once in my life, for once in my life, for once in my goddamn life.

There was no real scientific evidence to support any of the doctor's claims. Still, he prattled on and on about his conspiracy theories and confusing mathematical prophecies "revelations," all while both he and his guests drank glass after glass of red wine. As the copious amount of booze continually flowered from new bottle after new bottle, the volume of the doctor's voice grew louder, and his balance was increasingly becoming unsteady. Still, somehow, the words came out of his mouth without a single slue, and the nonsense, albeit at a slower pace, continued practically unabated.