InSanity~Normalize, Don't Stigmatize Mentall Illness.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Brain Quest: IWSG

Sometimes insecurities wreak havoc with the creative process. Because of this, Alex J. Cavanaugh  founded the blogosphere's one-and-only Insecure Writer’s Support Group. We’re posting monthly, exposing our vulnerabilities and/or offering support to one another. Please check out Alex’s blog to visit others’ posts. It’s a group of kind-hearted bloggers/writers, authors and great people.  Join us, if you haven't already! All that's required is an insecurity or two hundred.
I'm winded. I've been chasing down my Insecure Self for hours. She ran off, saying something about a messed up brain. I finally found her at the local Walmart, Toys and Games Aisle #16, with Cranium in hand. Here's what unfolded:

Robyn: There you are! I've been looking all over town for you. What are you doing?

Robyn's Insecure Self (IS): Nothin', just buying a new brain. I need one. I'm tapped out these days. No creative thoughts, ideas, no jokes. It's all gone. I'm afraid it'll never come back, so I'm buying this (pointing at Cranium).

Robyn: That's not a brain, silly. It's a game. I played it once. It's kind of abstract and took too much work. What was Hasbro thinking? Put it back! We're going home.

A heavily tattooed blue vested Walmart employee approaches. Walmart employee: Can I help you find something?

IS: Yes, I'm looking for a brain.

Walmart employee: You won't find one here. He turns and walks away.

IS: Oh. Thanks anyway.

Robyn yanks IS's arm. Come on, we're going back to Life by Chocolate. They head home.

IS: But I've lost it, I tell you. What if I can never make them laugh again? And I'm 100 or so pages into my book, and I just can't keep going. I want to take a year or decade off, without losing any time. It needs too much *bleep*n work! It's taking too *bleep*n long! All the rest of them are cranking out book after book. They're always in the creative zone. Sigh. I just want someone else's brain. Do you think Alex will give me half a braincell if I bake him brownies?

Robyn: It doesn't work that way.

IS: Then I'll toss in some Hot Tamales.

Robyn (sighing, exasperated): What is wrong with you-me?!

IS (sadly): Chocolate's gone.

Robyn (with scorn): I noticed.

Robyn and IS arrive home. Robyn types this post, as IS collapses under the computer desk into a pile of pathetic whiny neurotic angst infused insecure mushy mush. Robyn looks down at IS: Get a grip on yourself!

IS: Okay. She clasps onto Robyn's right ankle. Robyn rolls her eyes, while decisively pressing "Publish." Next, Robyn logs onto e-Bay to offer a melodramatic insecure self. Bidding starts at two cents.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

More Horse Play: Sundays in My City

Hi, friends. As you know, Unknown Mami hosts an extraordinary weekly party. Visit her site here to appreciate scenes from across the globe. It's a small blog world, afterall.

Our town mascot is looking rather summer-y.

Chico, California's Horse Store and More

                              A friend's horse poses for the camera.
                              Photographed in Paradise, CA.

"The horse through all its trials has preserved the sweetness of paradise in its blood."
Johannes Jensen


"People have always scared me a bit, you see - they're so complicated. I suppose that's why I prefer horses."
From movie, Separate Tables, 1958

Have a simply cool Sunday and new week, as we trot into August.
Thanks for visiting!

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Celibacy, Reasons #192-200

Hi there! Lifted directly from popular on-line dating sites, and embellished by my italicized snark, I now bring us through 200 viable reasons why [not just me but] any straight, single woman would choose celibacy. Hint: It’s a scary dating scene.   Please enjoy...
REASON #192: Looking for a sweat honest lady 
Sweetie, even an honest lady will lie and tell you she doesn’t sweat. She perspires.

I don’t think so, though I can’t be too sure.

REASON #194: Sun,sand,water,rocks,trees,mountions    
Well, five out of six ain’t bad.

REASON #195: well well what do we have here I am a somewhat educated man, I like inteligent people . well well I suggest you complete your education. It’s missing something.

REASON #196: You know, it's easier to sell furniture than it is to sell myself. If I were a chair, I'd be like, "Look at this solid freakin chair right here. Yes sir. Now that's a heckuva chair. Last you for centuries, just look at the workmanship, that's fine... eh... oak? I think. Probably. But whatever, just look at it..." and B.S. my way through.
Given the option, I always prefer to take a seat. Except in this case.

REASON #197: Floss with barbed wire or online dating?
Is this an ultimatum, an earnest dilemma you find yourself facing, or a heartfelt offering?

REASON #198: I can text while at work. So let's chat!
Well, I suppose that’s all most relationships amount to nowadays. LOL. BRB. No thanx.

In response to what he’d like to do on a first date, REASON #199 wrote:
You don’t like snorers with fake breasts? That leaves the field wide open for you, unless you’re looking to date a Kardashian.

REASON #200: I say groovy and fabulous more often than normal people do and I'm a firecracker with my lips and tongue. Firecracker.
Sweetie, it’s neither groovy nor fabulous to equate one’s kissing tactics with explosives. PS Normal people do not ever say groovy or fabulous. Not ever.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Home-Schooling: The Sex Talk

It began as an everyday day. Having cleaned off a bowl of Lucky Charms, I placed it in the kitchen sink. Everything was fine so far, perfectly boring.

Then Dawn entered the room. She stepped towards me with wide-eyed authority.  In the next few seconds, I’d receive news I’d never forget. Though I’d try.

“Robyn Mommy told me how babies are made. Wanna know?” Dawn allowed no time for response.

A fragile 9 year old, I planned to avoid boys forever, at least until after I married one. By then I’d be much older, like 22. In the moment, though, I wasn’t at all curious about babies or boys or anything besides going back into the den to watch Tom and Jerry.

But Dawn was a person of vast wisdom and maturity. She was 10.

So as my big sister stood inches from me on the blue and white speckled floor, I couldn’t help but listen.

Dawn scrunched up her face in preparation. She took in a quick, decisive breath.  Next, the news spewed forth in a tone overflowing with disgust and glory. “The man puts his penis in the woman’s va-gi-na,” she informed, with enthusiastic emphasis on each syllable of “va-gi-na.”

Finished with her tutorial, my big sister turned and left the room.   

I froze, confused, utterly mortified, determined to shake off what I’d just learned…It didn’t work.   

Nearly 40 years later, it still doesn't work.

And to think, it began as an everyday day. 


How were you home-schooled on sex? That was it for me. [Sometimes the silent messages have the loudest impact.]  I'd love your story, maybe for an article in - in which case, I'll let you know. At any rate, I welcome your version of Home-Schooling: The Sex Talk, either in the comments section below (if it's brief) or through email (see my profile page). Thank you!

Happy, sexy-or-ordinary weekend and new week!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Dufus of the Day Award: Alana and the Three Stooges

Today’s Dufus of the Day Award goes to the “poet” flavoring the blogoverse with bizarre attempts at something literary, or perhaps a mere fixation on my middle name. Versions of this butchered haiku have hit Life by Chocolate several times:

You know ALANA?
Then you know IRENE.
You know IRENE?
Then you know CHO.
And if you know all of them, morethan likely you're into
Washington with ROB LOWE.
And if you're into Washington with all these people you are gun running with mob.
Know hownthey know this ?

Influenced by Dufus’ challenged logic, added to nighttime-sniffling-sneezing-so-you-can-rest medicine (in short, please forgive me! I’m not well), I was moved to respond in kind:

You know DUFUS?

Then you know RUFUS.

You know RUFUS?

Then you know MOE

And LARRY and JOE!

And Half Pint too,‘cuz she dated ROB LOWE.

He’s no prairie boy, though - a dad with two kids in tow.

But Curly’s the best.

Nyuk, nyuk to the rest.

Soitenly, this I know.