Because My Mommy Said So

May 13
2012

It was the biggest decision of my life and I didn’t want to blow it.

I sat cross-legged on the old yellow carpet in my bedroom, surrounded by college applications. Notes were crammed into every margin available in “The College Book,” the bible for high schoolers looking for general outlines of schools across the nation. My father had taken me on several road trips to visit countless schools, during which I had taken more copious notes. Now the applications lurked around me like a sea of sharks and my notes were kelp to my need for a lifeboat.

Please Read With Your Eyes Closed

Aug 23
2011

“Turn around.”

It was the ninth false start I had with my student, Julie, for this one-minute drama exercise. After 20 classes with her, I was familiar with her delay tactics. After standing in place for a half a breath, she’d walk to a corner of the room. I’d gently coax her back. She’d hide her face; I’d convince her to drop her hands. She’d spin in circles, I’d get her to stop…all of this took longer than the exercise itself, if she would just get to it.

College Reunions & Problem Buckets

Jun 07
2011

I won’t be traveling 3,000 miles to Saratoga Springs this month to tempt nostalgia at my 20-year college reunion. To think I graduated two decades ago is as perplexing as the fact that skinny jeans and boyfriend blazers with rolled up cuffs are considered fashion-forward again.

Since I won’t be visiting my renovated alma mater, I’ll miss out on clinking martini glasses while reminiscing with former classmates about how much Coors Light out of a keg tasted like stale urine.

Five Foot Two And Still Sane

Nov 08
2010

Right in the middle of the Rally To Restore Sanity, I wanted to tell someone off.

We had gotten to the mall two hours early to ensure a decent spot and settled near the beginning of the middle (insert political joke here) where the Jumbotrons were in view for anyone over 5’6”.  D.C. (my boyfriend, not the city) could see the screens clearly, but I spent much of the 3 hours either on my toes or wavering from right to left (insert flip-flopping joke here) to catch the ever-shifting sweet spot between people that gave me a hand’s width view of either screen.

To The Girl I Didn’t Really Know

Oct 24
2010

I’m seventeen and about to do something I’ve never done before.

I’m not a mean kid. I don’t do things just to hurt other kids. I’m the student that always goes to class; when I do miss class, it’s because a friend is in a crisis. I have friends, but I’m not one of the popular crowd. I’m surprised when a boy shows any interest in me. I began to find my voice in acting class, but still know that in the social hierarchy of high school students from 1 to 10 (10 being the most popular), I’m probably a five. Maybe a six.

Butt Holes, Ice Cream and Why I’ll Never Say I Do

Sep 23
2010

I’m a freak.  According to society, that is.  And society won’t let me forget how different I am. As one side of a happily committed two-gender couple that isn’t married, I don’t fall neatly into one of the labeled mental boxes that most people carry around with them.  Instead, my man and I are subjected to a persistent prejudice against people who can get married but choose not to.

Heavy word, “prejudice”.  But consider that it comes from “pre-judgement” and that’s all I mean.

No More Ms. Nice Blog

Sep 16
2010

When I started this blog I was told:

“Make sure you have a specific topic, or no one will read it.”

So I formulated my blog topic.  What am I passionate about?  Psychology and humor. Yeah, I thought, I’ll address one particular psychological theory or idea or study or piece of human behavior and couch it in a funny story.  Then everyone will think I’m brilliant and hysterical and a great writer they’ll all love me. Easy enough.

So I started my blog. Like a parent, I had ideas about what I didn’t want my baby blog to be:

Self-Induced Identity Crisis: My Two Names

Jul 25
2010

Something I’ve always known I’d never do if I got married was change my name.  Meyers is my last name and Meyers it will always be. Taking someone else’s name always seemed surreal and rather archaic to me – becoming someone else’s property and all that. (Though the reason my long-time committed partner and I will never get married has nothing to do with that.)

But ironically, I have changed my name. Sort of. And I have no one to blame but myself.  I exist now as both Robin Dale Meyers, my given name, and Robin Daléa, my stage name.

Battling The Blobby Beast

Jun 09
2010

All throughout my primary and secondary education, I never raised my hand in class. That’s a good 12 years of never asking to be called on. To do so was to invite the wrath of something more terrifying than any bully, more embarrassing than the rejection of any cute boy. If I slid my hand in the direction of the air, The Beast would descend upon me, paralyzing me with fear…