My Cardboard Balcony

Just call me Vague McVaguerson, 'cause I'ma do some introspection about some stuff that I can't give details about yet. This week was full of news. Good news. Some of it I can divulge in the next week or so. Other news, I won't be revealing until everything's settled and officially ready and the time is right. Just know that it's positive, and it's fulfilling, and it's exciting, and it all signals a new adventure as I progress as both a writer and a teacher. The world can be a very scary place, and sometimes, you need to know that everything in your little personal bubble is going according to plan. Well, that's what's happening in my little personal bubble. Things are working out the way I've wanted them to. And it's invigorating. Obviously, you, my beautiful readers, will learn more in the foreseeable future. But there are other small victories I can openly share! For instance: I transferred my two television miniseries - Happy ...

A Feeble Tyranny by Belinda Roddie You gained power. You don't know how to use it.

Grandpa Jimothy had a television set so old that two large metal antennae protruded from the top like antlers on a wooden deer. He loved that television. It would only show three channels – a local news network, a network that ran Seinfeld reruns all the time, and a channel strictly dedicated to selling jewelry.

Your Fingers Pinched by Belinda Roddie Your fingers pinched the skin between my eyes and held it tightly 'til they made a dent on the bridge of my nose. You heard my cries for you to stop, but you had never meant to treat me gently or kindly. You bit your lip, hungry to tear away my pride in chunks, your once dark visage lit with a hideous ecstasy. You lied to me, you stole from me, you caused me pain both physical and mental. You denied it, but I have the scars here that explain how much of your sick soul you cannot hide from anyone. I pulled your hand away at last, and I hoped you would leave some day.

One student was writing nonfiction in a journal; another was planning a science fiction thriller. Two worked together on a fantasy escapade with dragons and dwarves galore - and swords! And spells! Lots of spells. Even the student with the lowest grade was scribbling away in her notebook, as ideas for a mystery novel bloomed on the paper like graphite flowers.

It's Real Late, Guys by Belinda Roddie I told her not to think about boobs. That got her thinking about boobs. Really shot myself in the foot with that one. Can't extract the bullet from between my toes now. I guess you can say I was lured into a  booby trap.

No update on the OneWord website today. Oh, well!