My Cardboard Balcony

And It Is Fragile by Belinda Roddie Human spirit is the ability to face the uncertainty of the future with curiosity and optimism. It is the belief that problems can be solved, differences resolved. It is a type of confidence. And it is fragile. - Bernard Beckett, Genesis *** I don't care much for music these days. Or paintings, or dancing, or even stories. The sound of pages turning upsets me now. It creates a visceral reaction that can only be described as, "My guts are being turned inside out with a fork." My colleagues tell me that my apathy toward all things creative is a side effect of the medication I'm taking, which is a supplement to the initial inoculation I received. They've informed me that they are working on a booster that could potentially open my mind back up to more poetic and artistic endeavors again. I don't know. The pills I have now do help with the trauma, and the flashbacks. Though not the noises that trigger both. Fortun...

She didn't attack me physically, but she did verbally eviscerate me. She used every piece of vocabulary she had learned since she was a child. She relied on insults provided by Shakespeare and other playwrights. She dug so deeply into me using language that the words left small cuts everywhere - like paper slices across my skin. When she was done, I was sitting on the floor, staring out into space. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Any time but now.

I'm exhausted, but let me explain why. And no, I'm not going to go over the absolute clusterfuck that was this week politically, with Russia and borderline treason and pseudo-presidential craziness. As far as I'm concerned, the orange man can jump off a cliff and take his Kremlin buddy with him. There. Got that out of my system. Moving on. This week was the second yearbook camp I attended. I had five students attend (and four stick around the whole time). We came up with a brand new theme for next year's book, got a cover designed, and practiced doing some spreads. Two of my students won an award for best theme copy, and I personally think we did some incredible work. I mentioned before how being a yearbook adviser is sometimes really tough for me. It wasn't something I ever planned on being, and the time I have to spend to work on a yearbook really eats into my ability to do the things I really love, like write and act and create music. I love teaching, but g...

Caught Unawares by Belinda Roddie This time, I was ready with the chainsaw. Sweet revenge.

Pineapple Pizza by Belinda Roddie Pineapple pizza just isn't for me, though my wife adores it, and bless her soul for it. I do not mind it if she eats as much as she desires. A heaping bowl of pineapple is hers, and as she rolls the dough out, I can see the glint of glee in her eyes. The cheese drizzles down like snow, and she is lost in a pie reverie. The fruit in slices settles in its role as sweetener to savory. I stay with my pepperoni as the heat grows incessant in the oven. Yes, the day I stop my wife from eating pineapple on pizza is the day humankind falls.