My Cardboard Balcony

Well, my handful of readers, this is it. The home stretch. The climax of the story. This weekend, I will be finishing up work on my PACT - my performance assessment that will make or break my chances of becoming a credentialed English teacher. I wish I could say I wasn't terrified, but I am. I know my anxiety might be unfounded, but the fear of failure is hovering over me like a goddamn cloud. I know I had a good teaching event. I know I got some good video footage of my teaching. I know I have all the tools I need to pass this assessment. But it doesn't assuage the impending panic "Oh, God, did I do this right?" I know I have tremendous support - not just from my loved ones, but also from my mentors, colleagues, and students. I just hope that I won't let anyone down. No matter what, I will continue to teach. No matter what, I will continue to learn. Wish me luck. Much love to all of you. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Prank'd! by Belinda Roddie Dude! I just tricked you into drinking hydrogen peroxide, bro!

No update on the OneWord website. And no, that's not an April Fool's joke. Other posts incoming!

Ever Since by Belinda Roddie Ever since you harassed me in my youth and haunted me in adulthood, I've lived a life of pain and unease, and the truth is that I can never interact with people the way that others do. I sweat and freeze in others' presence. Paralyzed, I stutter, stop, and find a parapet to prop my body against. Stopping cries from ripping from my body's hard enough, but then I see you enter the same bar that I've frequented for years. You act tough, yet I see heat in your eyes like a star dying slowly, turning to ash. I hope, sickeningly, you're broken and can't cope.

There was no scientific evidence for this. No fossils, no dusted off artifacts. No records or written theories or eyewitness accounts prior. No DNA samples, no data, no correlation. Nothing. And yet, there it was - and there we were - standing on the precipice of a crevasse where down below, the eroded yet still relatively intact spires of an ancient kingdom lay beneath our feet. The head of our archaeology team hypothesized that it must have been buried underground for thousands of years, yet the architecture of the revealed buildings seemed different than what we had researched in our history books; in fact, the design of it seemed fairly modern.

To The Rescue by Belinda Roddie I've never wanted to be a hero, she said over an ashtray and a Moscow mule. Don't think I could pull it off, anyway. Capes get in the way, and my face ain't the right shape for a mask. And I can't grow adamantium claws from my knuckles or wield katanas like some of those costumed crusaders can. You know, I was driving home when a lady passing on the other side mouthed an apology, because I guess she didn't let me turn left, even though it was definitely her right of way. I don't know if that makes her a good person, just like I don't know if guiding a student through essays and stressful exams makes me heroic. Who knows, she concluded, as she let the vodka accompany the lime in its burning voyage down her esophagus. Maybe one day, even if I can't change the world, I'll be powerful enough to slow down its spin when we're having good days, and speed up its rotation when everything's going ...

You told me all my life that I was a lightweight. A pushover. That if I ever got the chance to throw a punch, I wouldn't leave a mark. Well, after all that, with you sprawled out on your ass, sporting contusions like pink tattoos and bleeding out of the corner of your mouth...well, that says a lot about your assumptions about me, don't it? So tell me, Baxter, before I take my fist and shove it so hard in your face that your nose bursts like a miniature supernova - am I a lightweight now? Or did I just claim the heavyweight title from you, you goddamn punk?