Roland Burris, Senator? Maybe, or Maybe Not.

Hey,

So, I was on my couch, taking a break from writing, and I happened to turn on CNN. Now, I'd read the news that Gov. Blago planned on appointing someone to the Senate seat, but I did not read about who the person was, simply because I wanted to be surprised to find out what idiot had actually accepted the man's phone call, much less agreed to be photographed or seen in public with him.

Enter Former Illinois Atty General Roland Burris, 71.

No one can deny that Mr. Burris has had a long history in Illinois politics, that he has been known for his ability to keep on trucking despite three gubernatorial losses, as well as being the first African-American politician to serve in a state-wide Illinois position. 

However, some who know Burris say that he also speaks of himself in the third person, is career-motivated and serves as spokesman for the Help Roland Burris Make Money and Be Powerful campaign. I had an encounter with Burris when I was a child, and I did not like him. I just had one of those "lights are on but no one is home" moments with him. My mother met him also, independent of my experience, and not only was he condescending, she said he just seemed lemming-ish. Now, we all know lemmings are not leaders. They follow. And Barack Obama as a Senator might have been many things, but lemming-ish was not one of them. 

The drama begins...

It's like a bad made for TV movie. I can just picture it, "Close but Yet So Far: The Roland Burris Story" on Lifetime Movie Network. Rod Blago would be played by Eric Roberts. The press conference alone was a circus. First, Blago says that he's been loving the attention he's been getting, then Burris starts giving shoutouts at the podium, which led to Congressman Bobby Rush (who looked terrible...like he might be sick or something) coming up on the stage and basically telling the media that anyone who did not support Burris as a Senator from Illinois is racist. 

Meanwhile, Harry Reid, leader of the Democratic Caucus said before Blago announced Burris as his pick that whoever Blago picked would not be confirmed by Senate Democrats. Due to the fact that I was bored at home, I looked up cases to see if what Senator Reid was saying is legit. According to US Supreme Court ruling on a case of Powell v. McCormack in 1969, if Illinois Congress approved the appointment of Burris to the US Senate, then Reid and the other Democrats would have to let him take the seat, and then convene a special vote, which would require a 2/3 vote in favor of expelling the new Senator. Honestly, they aren't going to go through all of that, it's too much effort to get a vote together, and there are more important things Given the poor attendance record of most Senators, that might prove more difficult then thought. Also due to Bobby Rush making the case for race, many senators may not even want to vote in such an election, just so they didn't have to even deal with the 'appearance' of being racist. Imagine Jesse Jackson and PUSH marching in front of Senators offices all along Capitol Hill carrying signs saying "Racist Senator works here".

Right on his heels, Illinois Secretary of State Jesse White has said that as far as he is concerned, Burris will not get through the appointment process. However, as the Secretary of State, he has a duty to basically approve and put the official seal on documents that the Governor issues, as well as carry out directives issued by the Governor. It is simply his job to "check the person out" not make a determination of whether or not they are morally qualified to hold such a position. 

However, since it appears the no one, including Blago's lawyer, wanted him to make this appointment, people will now be on a mission to somehow find a way to either make Burris' life hell, tie him in some way to Blago, or create some kind of loophole allowing them to give Burris the boot. What a terrible way to end his career, because from this fiasco, there is no escape.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

New Year's Eve (aka The Annual Drunkfest)

Hey,

So there are few holidays that I get excited about. New Year's Eve is not one of them. Something about getting older, more time passing, people acting like complete idiots just because a new year is on the horizon...I don't get it.

Every year I decide to go out and do something "fun" for New Years. Everytime, however, I am disappointed. One year, I did the countdown in a car ALONE. One year, I was arrested. One year, I was in the hospital. Another, I ended up in the bathroom with food poisoning. Once, I was molested. This year, I'm getting some good food in me and then sleeping through it. I swear, it'll be the best New Years ever.

So in an attempt to be more interactive, I ask you, my readers...what was your worst New Years Eve memory? I'll share mine in the next post...mainly because it will take me a while to decide (so many were terrible!)

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Friday Five: Five MisAdventures of My Childhood

Hey,

I've decided to try to do a weekly post called the Friday Five. I know bloggers do them often, where they make occasional lists about things that are on their mind or randomly find themselves the subject of whatever they've been influenced by.

The first time I ever posted something about how I grew up, or even about my family, it rang as something that people could relate to, and seemed to connect with the readers of this blog. As a result, I've decided that my misadventures of my youth are just as interesting as the ones of my adulthood. So, here we go, my Five MisAdventures of My Childhood.

5- Climbing into bed with my mom when I was afraid of the thunderstorms. 

Ever since I was a child, I was always frightened of thunderstorms. I would climb into bed with my mom, and she would tell me a story to occupy my mind, usually about something mythical, and these stories would involve kings, wicked dragons, princesses...but as I got older, they became tales of secret agents, star-crossed lovers, dynasties and government upheavals. All fabricated from spur of the moment ideas, and all fantastic. I lived for those stories, and began to slowly like thunderstorms because of them.

4- Cooking with my father.

My friends will tell you that my least favorite place to be is in the kitchen, but I can remember preparing dinner with my father, who made cooking fun. Watching him create his "Secret Spicy 'Maican Sauce" was always something I loved, not just because of the music he'd hum while cooking, but also the smells. He would tell me about my great-grandmother and how the recipe for the 'Maican Sauce was passed down from generation to generation, and one day, if I was lucky enough, I'd learn how to make it. The 'Maican Sauce, as I call it, can be used to make authentic Jamaican Jerk shrimp, chicken, beef, etc...

3- Sharing Ice Cream with my dog, Freddie

In the summers where I'd visit with my dad in New York, I would be allowed to buy an ice cream cone whenever the ice cream man came. Sometimes, I'd splurge and buy a milkshake, but usually I would buy a chocolate cone with sprinkles and sit on the steps of my house and eat it, slowly enough that it would melt on my hand. Freddie, my cocker spaniel that I had since birth and who was joined to my right hip, had to be restrained in order to not climb all over me and eat it, but became my personal paper towel, as he would lick my hand clean and then look at me as if he wanted more. As a result, I started buying him a vanilla cone of his own. My dad started to wonder why I asked for double the amount of money, and later would tell me he assumed I was buying ice cream for one of my local friends. When he discovered that the extra cone was for Freddie, he would begin to join us on the porch, eating ice cream. No matter what he did, for two summers, everyday at 5:15 or so, all three of us sat on those steps eating ice cream. Even if we were mad at each other or not speaking, it became a silent ritual.

2- Tree Climbing with Kevin

When we climbed trees, we suddenly became the masters of the world. We would climb one tree in particular, and stay in it for hours. Conversations that happened in the tree stayed there, and we experienced a lot of emotions in that tree. Sadness, regret, joy, love, sorrow and pain...they were all emotions that the tree held for us. We would often climb the tree when hiding from the world, and when our parents would call the other in search for their child, we would brave the outside to go to the tree, and usually find the other nearby, if not in its branches. Kevin told me about his cancer in that tree, while he was on the phone with me as I sat in DC, he was safely in its branches talking to me and telling all about the battle ahead. We used to picnic in that tree, and every single time that I pass it, I think of him. He carved our initials into its side as a monument to our memories one day, and recently, I saw a boy and a girl, who looked eerily like us sitting in it, giggling. It made me think of us, and I'm sure that as long as we are able, we'll find solace in its branches.

1- Walking around my neighborhood 

In my New York neighborhood and my Chicago neighborhood, two different worlds existed. In Queens, people were much more diverse, friendly and interactive. I often spent hours just walking around, usually taking my cocker spaniel, Freddie, with me, and I would find stores, friends and hideouts. It was not strange that a young child, a preteen and then a teenager would be ambling around the streets. I often thought about what life would be like if I'd grown up there in the summers I visited, and I would walk around, creating memories as if I had, and laugh at myself for doing it. Chicago, was also its own world, people seemed less open, less willing to understand my exploration and people often would ask me where my parents were. I'd often go for walks and my mom understood this, so she'd let me go...and as a result, she often had to explain to my neighbors that she knew where I was and that it was really okay. The neighborhood was divided, but still held a certain mystique to me, a flavor that I could not find in the streets of Queens. I loved the comparison, and when I tried to explain it to my mom or my dad, they would both look at me completely confused, simply because they'd never taken that journey with me. I felt like those walks were my own secret, one that only I knew about and understood. Because of that, they were a million times more special.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

So Long, Mr. Wonderful (Falling Out Part III: The Conclusion)

Hey,

First, I say Happy Holidays grudingly, simply because I am no fan of the holidays at all. While I do wish that everyone enjoys their Christmas, New Years, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, etc., I don't particularly like the holidays. Probably won't until I've either gotten over my own issues with the holidays or have children that force me to be into it. Even then, part of me hopes that I can just drop them off with either my mother or the family of their father so I can be left in peace. Long story short, bad things seem to happen around the holidays....to me, to my family, to those I care about....so I'm biased. I treat this Thursday just like any other, well...not any other, because I'd probably be able to go get a decent drink but can't because the bars are closed. I really need one, and the drink I made isn't doing much to stop me from feeling like absolute sh**.

Why do I feel like sh** and need a drink, you ask?

So, I probably had the worst conversation that I've had in my entire life. I told my ex-boyfriend in the most direct and straightforward way possible, feelings being damned, that there was no way possible that we'd end up together. He came by my house to drop off a Christmas gift for my mother last night, and I asked him if we could talk. I'd been dreading this conversation for awhile, and as soon as I realized that it HAD to happen, I was loathing the fact that the cycle would be ended, and by me. Part of me waited for him to tell me that he'd fallen for someone else, that the picture of the two of us in a loving embrace on his nightstand had been replaced by one just as intimate with someone else...anything that did not make me the villian in this conversation. I remember it more vividly than I probably should, him standing in front of me slightly slouching down so I didn't feel quite so small, his eyes fixated on me in a lovingly manner but then looking away just as soon as he felt my eyes on him. It was weird seeing him like that, for the first time vulnerable, unassuming and not confident. He looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders and it was up to me to release him from the burden.

I spoke, softly and calmly. "Look, you and I both know that we go through this cycle with each other. We can't decide whether we love each other or hate each other. It ends up with one of us hurt, one jealous or angry and both of us confused." He swallowed as he looked at the ground and shifted his weight, silently agreeing with my statement. I looked at him, and without his permission, continued. "We've been going through this cycle for years, and I'm just tired. I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I can't keep putting myself out there, waiting for you to figure out what it is you want, only for you to hurt me somehow. It's not healthy and I don't have the strength to keep doing it. And I don't want to." I paused, only because he looked me directly in my face, and it shocked me.

He looked at me, and his eyes were heavy. I'd never noticed that his attitude was patient, something that I'd least expect from him, given from the situation. He cleared his throat as if he was going to speak, but hesitated. I looked at him, and he slid to the ground, almost as if his knees buckled from under him. Instinctively, I went to reach out to him, to comfort him, to touch his face and try to undo the hurt I'd just caused him. But, I realized in an instant that I'd never be free of this cycle so, I just folded my hands and looked at him. If he'd looked up at me in that moment, he'd have had me under his spell...but he didn't. Instead, he spoke two words as if they were the last words I'd ever hear him say, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely unfamiliar because it was wavering and soft, as if he were about to cry. "You're right."

I looked at him, and realized that he was sad. Not just sad, but devastated because he knew the true meaning of my words. He looked up at me and tried to find some level on which to connect with me, but I couldn't look him in the eye. He said, "I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I believe that you deserve better than me. I've just allowed my jealousy and insecurity and doubt of us ruin any potential of something real. And I'm sorry. I'll never forgive myself, even if you do." I slid down on the ground next to him, and in the barely lit living room, my hands found his face. I spoke, being sure to not sound like I was yielding in my stance, and the words formed even before I knew I felt that way. "I already have. But we both deserve not to be in so much pain. Love shouldn't be painful, it should be effortless." He looked at me, finding my eyes this time. "So what we had wasn't love? Is that what you're saying?" I curled my legs under me, watching my lower half move, and I said, "No, what we had was love. It just wasn't the kind of love that could be forever. I want my forever." He kissed my forehead and hugged me close to him. "And I want you to be happy."

Losing myself for a moment in the warm, robust smell of his collar that had been my drug for so long, almost too long, I realized that I do want to be happy. But in that same moment I wondered that if my happiness only lies with him...if all my love would forever belong to him. If my life was simply meant to be an extension of his. I thought back on all the memories I had with him, all the time, counseling, all the time I'd believed that this man, whom I was consoling, was the love of my life. I saw everything, him placing a ring on that all-important finger, us running down a hill hand in hand after our wedding, me looking at him for support as I gave birth to our child, watching him sing that baby a lullaby, laughing at private jokes that we shared, growing old. I even saw the sadness in his eyes as I sighed my final breath, the tears coming from him naturally, and then the tears of our children as he passed on to join me in the afterlife. I saw it all, as he embraced me, and it seemed so intoxicating. But it was not real, it was my idealized vision of how I saw life with him, and it was not true. So, we sat there for a while, quiet and not-moving, and it went without saying that I'd been the stronger of the two of us, even though I'd never known it. It also went without saying that I'd officially let him go.

The rest of the conversation was pretty intense. And pretty personal...so I hope you won't mind if I don't share it. But let's just say that after some discussion, the chapter of Mr. Wonderful is closed. Maybe someday we will be friends, but for now, it's closed.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Falling Out (part II)

Hey,

So to continue my previous post, there are many reasons why I cannot let Mr. Wonderful out of my life.

Our relationship was tumultuous, to say the least. It was full of extremes, extreme love, anger, pain, detest, passion, arguments, making up and complacency. But if it is nothing, it is familiar, and I love that about it. I love the moments where I don't have to think with him, and the fact that no matter what the emotion that he and I are experiencing, I can always go to him and curl up in his arms and stay there for as long as I want. He's never, ever pushed me away. That's not the way he is, though, but that's how he is with me, and despite all the potential drama, I don't want to let that walk away out of my life, because overall, there is history there and at the end of the day, I value his friendship, respect his opinion and always will look for his encouragement.

Another thing about our relationship is that although it's full of extremes, it reminds me of the relationship that my parents had. Volatile to the extreme, they fought like dogs. Some days they were fighting, even to the point of physical blows...but then, hours or up to a day later they'd be laughing together or all over each other. It was kind of gross because it was my parents, but at the same time, interesting. When I found my ideal mate, I promised myself that I'd have some of that passion in my relationship with them. With Mr. Wonderful, I found out that extreme existed and it was with him. It was easy to fall back into the cycle, and now more than ever, I find myself standing on a precipice, not sure how to behave because being without him is unfamiliar.

We often go weeks without talking to each other. It's normal, and usually means that one or both of us is pursuing something with someone else. After seeing him out Christmas shopping around the end of November with a girl who obviously was into him on that level, I decided to move on. Seeing him with her didn't upset me as much as I thought it would, and it snapped me out of my whole "waiting for him" stage. So, I decided to go on a date. And it was nice. More than nice, it was drama-free. So, I found myself feeling things that were relatively foreign to me, and while I enjoyed those feelings, I found myself feeling strange because they weren't feelings for Mr. Wonderful. I found myself wanting to explore them, but also wanting to dissect them. I decided to ignore my head and just go with the flow. 

It is difficult when you have loved someone for so long and then you realize that they have either forgotten you or moved on. It is agonizing to admit your love for them in the first place, and just as agonizing to not know what they are thinking when you do admit it. In my case, I've loved three people in my life, one died when I was young, the second loved someone else more and Mr. Wonderful was the third. My love for him probably was the deepest, because he helped me get over a lot of different things. So, when I was faced with the decision of having to let him go so I could move on, I choked.

It goes on even more....

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin

Falling Out (part I)

Hey,

So the current MisAdventure seems to be the cycle that I've managed to fall into with my ex-boyfriend. The one that I'm always mooning over, the one that one of my best friends, Kelsey, is convinced that I will marry... Mr. Wonderful. 

He and I, we seem to live in this cycle where we love each other, get bored with each other, do things to hurt each other, fall out of love with each other, make up, become friends with each other and then fall in love all over again. It seems, in order for us to complete an entire cycle takes anywhere from 6-10 months. We've done it maybe 3 times. The cycle has existed through other relationships, through dating other people, through our own decisions to stay away from each other and through our own emotional issues. 

Essentially, I'm not strong enough to be hurt over and over...and he's not able enough to recognize that he hurts me. In my effort to rebel against him hurting me, I do things to hurt him and end up feeling guilty about them, but what I don't realize is that my behavior does hurt him and only makes him less likely to change. It's an emotionally draining thing to be involved in, and if I was able to realize it was happening in real time, I'd stop and talk to him about it...but even when I've had the inkling to, I can't.

The thing is, I love him. Even thinking about him now, I smile. But then, the smile gets lost somewhere in the memory of all the drama, late night arguing, tears, pain and feelings of loneliness....but even with all that, I can't imagine my life without him. He's become a part of me, and the longer this goes on I begin to realize that I have a decision on my shoulders. Either I deal with the issues that I have with him head-on, if that means relationship counseling, if that means being uncharacteristically honest with him about how I really feel....or, (and I shudder at the very thought of it) I let him go. I end the cycle right now, in this moment, and I learn to live my life without him. I don't really know how to do that, but I imagine it would be the same as any other loss, moving on and simply taking things one day at a time...one step at a time.

I had my epiphany about this whole situation today, as I was driving around getting some errands done. A song came on my radio via my iPod nano, called "Falling Out" by Keyshia Cole. It pretty much explains how I feel when I'm in the "doing things to hurt him/falling out of love" stage...all the pain, the sorrow, the abandonment, and the loneliness that I feel...it's summed up with her words. In the end of the song, she lets him go...I just hesitate on making that same decision...

I'll talk about my hesitations when I post tomorrow...

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

I Always Knew that One Day, They'd Try to Bring Me Down

Hey,

So today, I am getting over being sick as a dog. My nose is red from sneezing too much, my head hurts and my throat aches and I'm exhausted from not really sleeping well. Anyway, I have found out that, yet again, I have a hater. I am never against having haters, simply because they motivate me to keep on my everyday hustle, but it always shocks me to find out who is doing the hating. This time, it is one of the people who I never thought would be so against me.

I'm not about to put them on blast, because that's trifling, especially when I have yet to figure out if or how I'd even let them know about themselves, BUT, I write about them because I need to address a trait in myself. I'm loyal. To my friends, my family as well as the people I care about. It's rare for me to go against someone, even if I hear they talk about me like I have a tail. (And that's pretty bad, to me.) BUT, if you talk ish about my mom, I will pretty much call my relationship with you dead and stinking. That's what this person did. They talked ish about my mom AND my dad, which kinda hurts. It stings something terrible since my dad's relationship with me is so complex.

I don't really talk about my dad much. Not to anyone, mainly because my relationship with my dad is so crazy that I barely understand it. First, he's gonna be 80 years old in January. Second, he's suffering from an aggressive form of rheumatoid arthritis, but more importantly, degenerative disease that affects his memory of the long and short term. He will eventually lose the battle with it, and not remember me, my mother or even the events that have occurred in his own life. Add in the fact that he and I are alike in that we are both stubborn, strong-willed and hard to read, as well as not the most tactful or considerate people and we make a pair. However, with my father's condition, and (assuming) the fact that he is aware of the issues that come with it, he has become softer. He has good days and bad, (more good than bad, for now) and his good ones are filled with love, with pride and with genuine kindness. His bad days are when he's the most disapproving, critical and judgmental. He is probably the one person, because he and I are alike in many ways, who can say the exact thing to make me upset. He knows it too, so when he is sad and hurting and wants me to feel the same way, he hurts me with his words. Despite all that, I can say that I do not doubt that my father loves me. In his own way, his occasional disdain for my life is also his silent approval. He has laughed with me, cried with me, and let me sit in his lap, even at 20 years of age.

My father is a sore subject for me, in relation to this person who is talking ish, mainly because they have not met him. They would not even know my father if he walked past them in the street...and yet, they are alluding that my father is the reason I have gotten certain things in my life. My father, who has had very little to do with the choices that I make, who has had his own health problems and other illnesses to deal with, and if he had any influence over me, would have chosen an entirely different set of rules, is now being accused by this person, this stranger, to have been behind a lot of my successes. Oh, how I wish I could say that. Unfortunately, being his child meant that I'd have to walk my own path, without his help or assistance...and yes, he could have assisted a lot. With money, with phone calls, with an email or two, my father could have shaped a different life for me as if it were no big deal. However, I walk my own path.

I realize now that some "friends" aren't friends at all. And if they certain that they truly are in life for good reasons, they are only pretending and may be pretending to themselves as well. Which is even sicker, in my opinion, and is a solid case for psychiatric treatment. I used to say in high school that true friends stab you in the front. A girl I know, who I was close to once and am not anymore, corrected me and said, "True friends don't stab you at all."

She's right.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin 

Music Sucks, so it follows that the Grammys would suck too...

Hey,

I never watch the Grammys. I stopped watching when I was much younger, simply because Will Smith was nominated for "Gettin Jiggy With It". Sorry, but that's not rap to me. I was so offended by that alone that I decided I'd never watch a Grammy show again. Due to the fact that I had (and still have) a passion for music, my mom questioned me about it, just yesterday. "If you love music like you do, why WOULDN'T you watch it?" Well, I answered her question by saying something like this, "If they call Will Smith records rap, whereas groups like Talib Kweli, Common, Wu-Tang, etc.. get no love at all...I'm done with it."

Overall the state of music today, sucks. We got Kanye going crazy with the autotune (or just going crazy in general, he seemed completely nuts on SNL and even before then, telling a fan to "Eat shit and die" was a bit extreme despite him throwing a penny at Ye), the emergence of a female wailing about her "Um-berr-ella-ella-ella" and T-Pain, who while adding the autotuner/vocoder craze, also inspired a bunch of drunken anthems. So, watching a show that celebrates the best of crap seems like the last thing I'd want to do. I need good music to be inspired by, and the music industry is okay with giving me garbage. So, I conclude that music needs to be revived. No more "remaking" the oldies, or sampling, but just original ideas. If Bob Marley can make a song comparing revolution to getting ganja from people in the neighborhood, surely someone can come up with an original song idea that appeals to the masses enough that I don't have to search iTunes and other lesser-known sites for it.

I've been listening to a lot of abstract stuff as of late, some French rap (je parle en petit francais) (and yes, I can understand about 65% of it, more as I learn about French slang) and old school stuff. If you have any suggestions about good music, let me know.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Dating...I'm Just going to sit this one out...

Hey,

So it's the holidays and I'm kinda missing my ex-boyfriend. Not because of the need to have someone there to look at across the table, to have that person around to deal with crazy relatives, but just because he was an awesome kind of guy. 

I look back on the times of my life when I was attached, and while I enjoyed it, for the most part, I felt that I had to work at the relationship. I would get bored so easily, and either get sick of the person OR they'd get sick of me. Either way, my track record with the male gender sucks. I always manage to feel like crap about it, simply for one reason..and that reason is:

I SEE UGLY WOMEN WITH BOYFRIENDS.

(now my mom said that I shouldn't assume they are great boyfriends or that I'd even want these guys, but I say screw that...if the 400lb lady on the bus can find a tenderoni love, why can't I? I'm a size six, with curves, a NY accent, a penchant for books and thrillseeking and a love for lemonade. I also read books really well, can cook my ass off and I don't eat pork. Who wouldn't want to date me?)

There, I said it. Yeah, yeah, I know it's wrong to see people as ugly and whatnot, but damn! I see physically and emotionally ugly women with boyfriends. I usually think to myself, "Well, if her ugly ass can get a dude, I KNOW there is one out there for me." But then I never find him. I hold out for a particular type, a guy who is smart, funny, kind, strong, ambitious, somewhat nerdy and somewhat good-looking. There are other things I'm looking for, but I don't want to get too specific. Bottom line, that guy is not the guy I end up dating. The guys I end up dating, for the best and worst case of the word, are assholes. Some are good assholes and some are bad, but yeah, these guys are good-looking, arrogant assholes. It's something about a confident guy that just does it for me. I don't know why.

So I end up dating a guy who is the opposite of what I want in some ways, and wouldn't you know it...I end up super unhappy and end up breaking up with them maybe a few months into the situation. It's obvious what the problem is...I either don't know what I'm looking for OR I am intentionally punishing myself by pushing away potential guys that fit my criteria. Either way, my love life is pretty shot. So, unlike the people out here who say to just keep looking, or don't look at all...I'm done. Why? Because the idea of dating just disgusts me.

The ritual of dating or courting began centuries ago when rich people wanted to marry other rich people, and met in settings prearranged by other rich people. In these settings, the future couple would never be allowed to be alone, and would fall in love with one another via letter, not email. Sometimes these couples would not even HOLD HANDS until their wedding day. And while many may balk at the idea of not getting some s-e-x (or at the least, a smooch), marriages in those days rarely ended in divorce. Yeah, you could say that they just stuck it out to stick it out, but they knew (unlike now) that marriage as well as divorce was not something taken lightly. 

Modern conventions of dating are much different. People tend to look for opportunities to be alone, letter writing is d-e-a-d on arrival, unless you count texting. LOL, what a riot. Anyway, it's a game of storytelling. You tell a person the story of your life, they tell you theirs and if they don't sound too crazy, self-absorbed or just don't click with you, they move onto the next level. Then, if they keep it up, eventually physical interactions get involved. Then, it gets dicey because love comes into the mix, either too much love or not enough love, and you either break up, fall in love or fall into a pattern of routine. 

Honestly, I want to be wooed. I don't need the settings of centuries ago, but a line better than "Hey, baby, what yo name is?" would work. Until I meet someone who I think I can deliver on what I want, I'm removing myself from the dating scene. I'm just gonna...sit on the sidelines and watch the ugly women with their boyfriends and continue to be confused.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

A Love Song for My Male Best Friend

Hey,

So, I read a bunch of blogs randomly.  Most of the blogs I read always are talking about sex, the people who have it and those who don't, the need for it, as well as how to get some more of it in your life. In my reading, I seem to find that a lot of folks are under the impression that men and women cannot be friends. Either it's because one secretly wants the other, they both want the other and don't know how to work it out, or they are doomed to eventually try out a sexual relationship and have it go completely bust. 

However, my male best friend and I do not fit any of those three. Not only have we known each other so long it's not even funny, but there's no sexual tension there. Oddly enough, we set up to be a couple by two friends. It worked and we were involved romantically. But given that we were young, it didn't mean as much if we were together now. I think about those times and laugh, because he was a sweet boyfriend, but it was more or less going through the motions. No real "Love Connection" there. 

So, we ended the attempts in trying to please others and just started hanging out. We'd watch TV together, eat dinner with my mom, go for long walks and just talk about things. We'd huddle together on a park bench in the winter and drink hot chocolate, and in the autumn, we'd rake leaves and burn them (even though it was illegal, we loved the smell) as we cooked s'mores and drank spiked iced tea. We planned to take over the world, and we laughed at almost everyone. Eventually, our relationship became that of best friends, and while it was weird in that we never really discussed its evolution, we started to rely on each other in ways that a lover could not meet.

In high school, we ditched classes to hang out together, we walked around downtown and sometimes went shopping, and we made sure that we caught the first show at the movie theatre on Thursdays when admission was $2.00. Those were the good old days. We've done a lot, and our relationship has a lot of battle scars, but we've settled into a groove that proves that males and females can co-exist in relationships that do not require sex. There's no sexual tension between us, and trust me, we've seen ALL of each other that there is to see. I love him, he loves me, but that love is not sexual. So, to all the bloggers, men and women can be best friends without feeling like they must have sex. My relationship with Kevin is proof of that.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

The MisAdventurous Ashley Robin is BACK!!

Hey All,

I've been M.I.A. because I have been working on a documentary on Barack Obama for a class. This is the preview (or trailer) for the full length film. It is my baby, basically, and I've been hunched over the computer for many a night with no sleep to get this part done in time. LOL. So, as a side effect, no blogging. Well, now that the video is done, I get parts of my life back and now have to suffer through hoping that people actually like it and understand what it is about. That's probably the hardest part.

I just wanted to figure out why people support Barack Obama, and the answers I got varied. While all aren't in the trailer, some were simple as "he's the black guy" to the complex "he truly understands the plight of the ordinary American" (and then a dialogue about what they feel that plight is...) but it was an interesting journey. I don't know if I'll actually put the real documentary together anytime soon, despite the 09 release date, mainly because I gotta graduate, you know?

I gotta thank the President Elect and his staff for their assistance, as well as all the people I talked to both on and off camera, and my family for watching it over and over again with me. 

But take a look and comment, and be honest in how you feel about it.

*Ashley Robin*

The distressed look of the footage of Barack is to create an illusion of something that happened that passed...

Qualifications for Mr. Robin (An Addition to the Official List of Haters)

Right now, Hugh Laurie (my cat) is the only male that lies in my bed. That'll change sometime soon. 

Hey,

So this cat to the left is my Hugh Laurie. I've never put his picture up on the blog before, mainly because most people know what he looks like, but the picture just seemed so appropriate, as he is the only man who occupies my bed at the moment. And he does so, quite naturally, to be honest. It is funny to see him keeping my bed warm for me in the day, the afternoon and the night. But it's nice to have him as a personal sheet warmer. Even as I type now, he's curled up next to me, leaning on me and watching me type, with his constant "are you for real?" face. He's a funny person, and yes, I refer to him as a person.

Anyway, today's MisAdventure relates to my previous post. If you didn't read it, I was basically summarizing my happiness that Barack Obama has been elected to the highest office in the land. As a result, men (black men in particular) are gonna have to step their game up a little. It was never acceptable for me to date a 'wanna-be' thug, or a guy who didn't know that a belt actually holds the pants up, not in place below their ass. Recently, I have been the subject of an IM conversation with a guy who attends my school. Honestly, I have a very small idea of who this guy is, I know him but I don't KNOW him. This guy is convinced that I'm a hottie, his word, and that because I'm so hot, I should go out with him. 

I've decided to post some highlights from our iChat, and ask you- am I deluded, or was I in the wrong?

him- maybe we can plan a time to meet at school
me-for?
him-just to talk and catch up on things
me-isnt that what we are doing now
him-yes but i think it would be nice to see you again in person
me-why
him-so we can kiss. JK no, i mean i just think it would be a good experience
me-why?
him-because i want to be your friend and get to know you
me-why?him-because youre sooo my type jK
me-um...
him-well the real reason is because i think highly of you and i want to get to know you in a lot of ways
me-why him-because i want to get to know you. i like you i think youre a hottie foxy
me-?
him-seriously i think youre really cute i think youre soooo hot youre too hot to handle too cold to hold
me-what? him-i told you i like you me-but you don't know me him-but i want to me-nah
him-nah what? why are you not taking me seriously? me-no
him-give me a reason why not we're both black
me-well, because when pressed to say why you're interested in me, you just say im hot
him-you are hot like in a sexy way
me-yeah, but that doesn't do anything for me sorry
him-youre on fire are you into knuckleheads and thugs? im a good catch a true gentleman
me-no
him-i have more to offer than other guys at school
me-im into men that wear suits that have goals
him-they dont have what i have
me-that could be a future anything i need a guy who has more than me, who makes me want to be a better person
him-theyre just ghetto snipes i mean they probably didnt even vote on drugs or gay or felons
me-are you even reading what i said wow
him-yes i reaad it
me-that's not a thug i described

He goes on to tell me that I've underestimated him because his parents live in a million dollar home that he lives, that he drives a nice car and all that, and because that I want to meet a guy like Barack when I'm in law school, I've described a thug who will never amount to anything in life and who won't even graduate from law school. He also says he's upset that I don't like "decent men" and that I like "bastards". When I say that I'm dead set on what I believe and what I want, he then starts becoming offensive to me, saying that I'm ghetto and ignorant, and that I won't amount to anything either. He's so wonderful, and I'm just a gigantic loser. He says I don't have anything, I won't find anything, then calls me a prejudiced white girl and says I sound like a redneck. It was a mind-blowing conversation.

So, svoneagwish1183, you are #458 on Ashley Robin's Official List of Haters.

Yes, that's his official AIM screename, hit him up and tell him about himself!

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

We All BARAcked the Vote!

this is my artwork of Barack Obama. I'm proud of it and of him.

Hey Everyone,

So the 44th President of the United States has been decided. It is not the Senator from Arizona, John Sidney McCain, but the young Senator from Illinois, Barack Hussein Obama. 

Not only do I take pride in his victory because of his views politically, but because of the legacy and history of his campaign and of the Senator himself. He, like me, is of mixed race, and I look at him with pride and because of him, I can tell my unborn son that anything is possible.

However, the office holds a lot of responsibility, and a lot of pressure is being put on him. People expect him to solve their problems, change their lives, and basically be the cure-all to a lot of things. It's a lot for one man, and he's just that, one man. 

But, in Obama's victory, I realized something. I realized that men, in general, are gonna have to step their 'game' up. I'm no longer interested in a guy with sagging pants, with no life purpose and a mouth full of fronts. (Actually, I never was interested in that to begin with.) I want a guy who feels just as comfortable in a suit as he does in a pair of jeans, and when he does wear jeans, they should be jeans that fit. He should be able to take me to a play, an art exhibit or to a sushi restaurant with no problem. I don't want a dumb guy, so he needs to not only be smart, be ambitious, have a goal, and be willing to be my partner in love, life and family. As Barack described his wife, "the love of my life and my best friend". 

Fellas, now you gotta get on a higher level...a Barack-type of level. (You know he wasn't walking around with his pants sagging at Harvard Law)

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Love Song

Hey,

So I'm being silly for a minute and publicly confessing my crush on TJ Holmes. Some people might think he's a sellout, whatever, but he's a fine sellout! I was actually up before 10am on both Saturday and Sunday, and was able to find his cute face smiling all in my television. He made me download the podcast for the program so I could run with his voice in my ears. Sad, I know, but TJ is that ish! Check out the above video of the new crush object. 

Anyway, I'm trying to find some new music to listen to. The iTunes library is nice, but I've got to expand my horizons a bit and find some stuff to listen to. I already got the old head music, the hip-hop, both popular and low profile and all that. So any suggestions, let me know ASAP.

Otherwise, my plan to run in the Chicago 2009 Marathon has been realized, and my marathon training has begun. I've been running my miles, (I try to run at least once a day, but usually run once every other day, around 2 miles) but I have yet to really get into it. I have realized that I just need a gorgeous male trainer. Gorgeous men do it for me every single time. That way, if I need help lifting or whatnot, he'll be right there to assist. LOL, in more ways than one. I'm changing the diet, joining the gym...it's all good. October 2009, I'll be ready to run the Chicago marathon, in more than one way! I have to start hitting the equipment in order to build more muscle mass to run faster, stronger and longer. We will see how it goes. 

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

So the Stress CONtinues

Hey Everyone,

I am bugging big time. Stressed the hell out. Between midterms, law school applications and writing this personal statement, I am a bit like Joe Stress pictured to the left. Not that bad yet, but I could get there...

The problem that I have with stress is that I have no proper outlet for it. I've tried everything but exercise, and that's happening soon. So, we'll see what happens.  My plan is to train for a marathon, so I'm running little by little, building up my endurance, and when I get some more money, I'm going to join a gym to start my strength/resistance  weight training.

Other than all the law school/midterms and other school related things, I'm dealing with stress of my friend Kevin and the death of his grandmother, my other friend Kelsey and her wedding next year that I'm the maid of honor in, and part of me is worried about a date. I know that it's a year away, and I know that I have all this stuff going on around me, and I'm stressing about a date. I know that it is weird and trivial, I know, but I don't want to be THAT girl. You know the one, the girl who comes to weddings alone. The girl who sits in the back of the room sipping on a martini watching as everyone else dances and drinks and mingles. That girl isn't going to be me. Not that having a date is the cure to that, I can be a guest without a "+1" and be perfectly content...but in the year from now and the day of the wedding, I guess I'll just have to accept my single-ness. Or single-dom. Who knows?

Does it make you sad that you're single? Does it automatically mean that you are desperate for love and attention? I'm not particularly sad, or desperate, but I do wish I had a person that I could call to take me to one event or escort me to another. I don't. It also doesn't help that many of my friends are engaged, and getting married. 7 couples in 3 weeks. Craziness. I am not saying that I want or need to be married or engaged to feel happy, because no one knows what goes on with those 7 couples behind closed doors, but I guess I'm just one of those people who likes having a guy on speed-dial. A guy that's not Kevin, because he just doesn't count.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Colin Says "Yes I Can" (Vote For Barack Obama)

Hey,

So I'm guessing that I was the only person not surprised that Gen. Colin Powell would be endorsing Senator Barack Obama. Why was I not surprised? Well, Mr. Powell has always been a man of sound judgement and reasoning. (Well, except on that whole IRAQ thing...)

But anyway, anyone with proper judgement and reasoning would see through all the crap that McCain is trying to dish out and realize that Obama is by far the better statesman. It's the same reason why the polls are turning against the self-proclaimed "underdog". (And by the way, no one LIKES being the underdog..that's like saying you like losing.) I don't know about you, but I never liked losing anything and I still don't. 

Everyone is shocked because Powell is Mr. Black Conservative..and represents the base of people who are staunch Republicans and McCain supporters. So, some are in a bit of a tizzy about it, and I'm sure Powell will be getting some weird glances at the country club. But hey, at least he's gotten some cool points with all the black folks who claimed he just wasn't "black enough". Personally, I don't think he's losing any sleep over his choice to tell Tom Brokaw he was saying "Yes We Can" on November 4th. Besides, it's not like he's going cross-country with Obama, holding hands with Hillary and drinking PBR with 'old regular' Joe Biden laughing at Sarah Palin. He has not turned in his Republican stripes of honor. Not yet, but just maybe.. we can hope he'll see the Democratic light. :-)

Speaking of Palin, was it just me or did that whole Saturday Night Live appearance just seem really flat? The only time I got interested was hoping she'd mess up the entire thing. I mean, I was on the edge of my chair, white-knuckled and rooting for crash and burn. Instead, I got this lackluster 'thing', where in the one moment she had to truly shine, make light of herself and her geriatric experienced running mate and be extraordinarily funny as a result, she passed it off to poor, pregnant and wobbling comedianne Amy Poehler. Watch, if you haven't seen it yet here. Personally, I'd have been laughing my a** off if she just went on and did the rap herself, and she probably would have gotten some votes respect from young people because of it. We all know it's in jest, and in good fun...but I guess after talking to Gramps John McCain, she opted against it. Shows who's wearing the pants in that relationship!! LOL!

Instead she played the straight guy to all the jokes and was called a thoughtless little pig horrible woman by Alec "I take out my drama with my ex-wife on my kid named after a country in turmoil" Baldwin. The best comeback she has is that his brother Stephen, an nut laughingstock idiot actor in his own right, was her favorite Baldwin. I'm sure Alec cried on his pillow all night long for that one. Oh, and Mark Wahlberg didn't even acknowledge her standing there! No, "Hey Tina" or "Hey lady, say hi to your mother for me." NOTHING. Even Lorne Michaels barely looked at her. Funny times. It'd have been the same show had she not been there, mainly because she was too much of a coward uncertain to rap a little. She sure was nodding in agreement to the rap, so she should have just done it. My advice, JUST DO IT! Barack would have...maybe. But then again, he wouldn't have had to. He's got flow and can dunk. 

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Is It Just Me Or...?

Hey,

Is it just me or is McCain whining during this debate? I'm blogging as the debate is going, mainly because my best friend Kevin called me and was sobbing on the phone. I was so worried about him that I paused the debate (yes, I have TiVo) and talked to him. I thought something terrible had happened, it turned out he was making fun of John McCain. Kudos to Barack for standing up to him and his "wahh wahh" and "John Lewis said this..." and basically saying that they'd never agree, so just to move on from it. 

Back to the debate...I'll be blogging about today's MisAdventure shortly..

*Ashley Robin*

New Business

Hey,

So I've been busy getting my law school application research process on and I have not had enough time to post. In the research process, I was able to obtain materials from at least 50-60 different law schools all across the country. However, my fabulous best friend (also known as Mom) is helping me sort through all of them. With her help, I'm building a list of those to apply, and now have to start work on the ever-influential personal statement. If you've ever written one, please help! I need some kind of formula to do it and there seems to be none. 

But thanks to a friend, I've been able to create an online store, check it out here,  so people can buy the musings that I've always wanted on tee shirts. The store will grow, and hopefully the money will grow. Most of it is going toward the trip to Europe. So if you want to support me, but want to feel as if you've not just given away something for nothing...buy a shirt or mousepad or hat. Keep checking it, because it will grow as I get better and quicker able to create shirt worthy slogans. The "InSane McCain" ones seem to be the most popular. My favorite is the green one. I'm getting one to put on my pillow.

Anyway, the ex Mr. Wonderful read the entire blog. In one day. He literally sat down and read the entire thing. I'm still tripping on it. He said that he was glad that I didn't write him up to be a complete asshole, and that it made him realize how much I loved him. He liked it, and some of the blogs that weren't about him, he thought were. Just goes to show you that some guys are still somewhat self-centered. Anyway, he's gotten a login here, so he can comment and even write posts. He said he's gonna write one, but we'll see. And he does love the nickname, Mr. Wonderful. 

My other ex boyfriend is tripping. Big time. But that's an entry for later this week. 

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Mourning an Unexpected Loss

Hey,

Well...all losses are unexpected, and all losses are hard. I've lost a lot of people in my life, whether it have been my first love, my childhood friend, my biological mom, a good friend from college that I'd fallen out of touch with, a surrogate grandmother, and those are just the folks that died. Sometimes we lose people without them actually dying, just by simply losing touch. In the world of cell phones and email, it's hard to lose track of people as we move and migrate through our lives. 

Today, though, I found out that my best friend Kevin, the same one who is dealing with his own mortality via a battle with pancreatic cancer, has lost his grandmother. The ordinary relationship that a typical boy has with his grandmother is (based on my experience) full of something I call "living disdain". In that you love the person, but aren't exactly thrilled to be spending time with them, mainly because they are either unhip, boring or just not a person you'd choose to be around of your own free will. 

Kevin and his grandmother, Grandma Eve (Evelyn), were always joined at the hip. Even as a little boy, he'd always talk about how cool she was, and how he always felt like he really was her son instead of his mom's. He looked forward to spending time with her every summer in California, and when he couldn't make it to her, she came to him. She even adopted me by being my grandmother, bringing me sushi lunches in high school, buying me purses and shoes, and kissing me just as much as she kissed Kevin, if not more so. When I was with the two of them, I never felt like I was the odd man out. She had the biggest laugh, always giggling with me and Kevin about something, and taking us both out to late-night movies and ice cream sundaes, even when we got older and no longer thought of those outings as the highlight of our week. 

As Kevin grew up, she was there for him, from his highest moments to his less flattering and lowest moments, and she never once judged him or said a harsh word against him. When we were sitting in the hospital waiting to hear what the situation was when Kevin got shot in the stomach for messing with some gang dude's girlfriend, she just said, "It's Kevin. He does sh** like that." (He turned out to be very lucky and the bullet hit no vital organs, just cost him a three-day hospital stay and a week and a half of bed rest after that. Later that day, when I saw him first in his room, he told me he was scared of seeing his grandmother's 'mean face'. When he needed money to go to college, she sold her house and moved into a nice condo, putting the difference into an account in Kevin's name, which he used to pay for his education. When Kevin got sick, she was there for him even more than his own mother was, stepping into the role of guardian on more than one occasion, and talking with the doctors about his treatment. She offered her home to him, and he accepted, knowing that he'd be taken care of, and not babied, and that his grandmother would have his back, 100 percent of the time. She'd often refer to him as her baby, and me as her adopted granddaughter. Later, she'd call me her granddaughter, and drop the word "adopted". 

Today, I found out that she has passed away. She wanted to not outlive her eldest grandson, and in a twisted way, she got her wish. We don't know exactly what happened, but it appears that she succumbed to a household accident. I don't want to go into specifics, but it was not something that could be attributed to suicide. Kevin's father, Eve's ex-son-in-law, found her while Kevin was at our friend's house 2 hours away. He was the one to tell him of her death, and I am thankful that he was there to be a boulder of support for him. It is a sad day indeed.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

PS: My ex-boyfriend, Mr. Wonderful, found out about the blog and has told me of his intent to read it from beginning to end. I'm not quite sure how to feel about it, since the beginning of it, and a good portion since, has a lot to do with him and is about him. 

Living The Pollo-Pescetarianistic Life

Hey,

So I've always been a finicky eater. I don't like to eat too much red meat because it makes my heart race, my tummy hurt and my head aches as a result. A while ago, I decided to eat fish, chicken and my veggies. In talking to a good friend of mine, who is a strict vegetarian, she told me I was a pollo-pescetarian. When I googled it, I found out a pescetarian is someone who is essentially a vegetarian, but who eats some fish. A pollotarian is someone who is a vegetarian but eats chicken. So I'm a pollo-pescetarian. Interesting things you learn when hanging with the vegetarian crowd.

As far as the marriage post, I've decided to cut things off with the married guy. I don't want to be accused of leading him on, or become some target by someone. It's not worth it. There are enough single guys in the world to keep me interested. Besides, I'm convinced I won't be meeting my Barack until I'm in law school. Until then, I'll indulge in my chicken, fish and veggies and work towards being a better me.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

The Sanctity of Marriage

Hey,

So today's MisAdventure is about marriage. Better yet, the idea of purpose of it. Is it outdated, not needed or required in this age of technology?

A while ago, I was working as a waitress at a popular Hyde Park (Chicago neighborhood that is home to the University of Chicago) bar/hangout. In this bar, I was flirted with all the time. Old men, young men, married men, single men, even women. I admit that I used my feminine wiles to get more tips. You'd be surprised how much of a difference makeup makes when you're pushing sex burgers. A full face of makeup, along with a bare midriff would get me at least $120-$150 a night, where as the makeup without the bare belly would get me around $100. I never did rock anything short or low-cut, but girls that did made way more than that $150. 

Some of the guys who came in were cute. Others were rich. Others were a bit of both and ugly. But most were enslaved married. Can you tell already that I've got a negative view on marriage? Most of the married men just admired my "taut body", "ample curves", etc. (The words in quotes were things I was told...seriously). One day in particular, a Sunday, I was waiting on a big group of male motorcycle enthusiasts. They were just a group of guys who ride around on their bikes together, as well as have fun on the weekends. Now, I'm a single girl. I am now, and I was then, so if I saw a guy who seemed nice enough, had a decent head on his shoulders and made me laugh, I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and talk with him. If he said things I liked, I'd give him my phone number. No harm in that.

One guy in particular was really attractive. He and I formed a relationship due to my interest in bikes, and when he took me to this place in the burbs to look at them, he tried to sneak a kiss on me. We ended up hanging out a lot over the course of a few months, and I found myself really liking my company. He was funny, kind, considerate and as I found out later, married. I felt lied to, betrayed and used, but I knew the situation could be much worse. Even despite all that, he still wanted to see me. 

I talked to my mom about it, since she'd met him (meeting my mom is not the big deal it can be with people) and started to ask me about how he was doing. When I confessed to being involved with a married man, my mom asked me how I found out he was married. That, in itself, was a story.

Basically, we went out to go to the zoo and then get a sundae one afternoon, and I'd brought my four year old cousin with me. He had her in his arms, and we all were having a great time. And my little cousin doesn't like anyone she doesn't know touching her. So, when he picked her up and she was okay with it, I started thinking, "Could I really date this guy?". When I asked him about his ability to connect with kids, he said it was because he'd had a kid of his own. This was no news to me, because I knew he had kids, but after I asked the question, he got quiet. The vibe of the entire outing changed. After he dropped me off, he and I didn't speak for a few days. When we did speak, we had a conversation that went a little something like this:

Him: So there's something I need to talk to you about.

Me: What's up [name], you can talk to me about whatever. 

Him: Well, let me just say that I really like you, and I'm enjoying myself with you. I see a future for us.

Me: A future? Isn't it a bit early to have the whole 'possibility of a relationship conversation"?

Him: Well, yes...but this isn't that conversation.

Me: What conversation is this one, then?

Him: This is the conversation where I drop a bomb on you, and hopefully you understand, forgive me and we move on.

Me: Okay, so what is this bomb? (Preparing myself to faint, scream, yell, or kill, depending on the bomb)

Him: When I told you before that I had kids, I should have told you I had something else.

Me: Something else...do you mean like an STD?

Him: No, I have a wife. I'm married.

Me: *DEAD*

So this situation has made me skeptical of marriage. The idea, the dream, the preciousness (if that's a word), and the importance of it. I hate to say it, but I still talk to the guy. No, not in a dating fashion or even a sexual fashion, but we do talk every now and then. Does it make me the bad guy because I briefly dated a married man? True, I didn't know it, but then again, I wasn't paying attention. Ignorance is no excuse, I know. But it made me laugh at the idea of marriage. Before this experience, I wanted to get married, pop out some kids and honor and love my husband all the day of my life. Before, I was looking forward to getting married, having a future and living my life with someone as a young person and then sit on the porch of our home and grow old with them, surrounded by our children and grandchildren. Now, I'm simply afraid that I'd end up like [name]'s wife, and wind up with a husband who has feelings for another woman. 

You could argue that he was just lying about having feelings because he wanted to get into my pants. But, since that never happened, and most of the time we ended up just having really in-depth conversations about things, you'd be hard pressed to feel that the relationship was sexually based. I've always felt that creating a mental connection with someone is a deeper violation than any physical thing, because it takes more brain power and genuine interest to connect with someone emotionally and mentally than it does physically. So, in theory, if my husband were bonding with another woman on the mental level, I would be more upset than if he slept with her, because the mental connection means there is a mutual interest in making a connection deeper than the simple "bang".

Why do I feel that way based on that experience? Well, here is a man, a seemingly great guy, who is a father, employed, and yet, he's desiring another woman. So much that he would deny his marriage, and then when he started to grow feelings (which he did), the guilt got to him and he admitted his true relationship status. No, I never "closed the deal" with the guy, but I could have. I don't know what I would have done if I had, or how I'd have felt. And realistically, I'm single (and I thought he was too), so it is realistic to think that it could have happened.

Why So Single?

Hey Everyone,

I'm a little hung over from celebrating Senator Barack Obama's first Presidential Debate. I'm one of the people who believe that he not only was able to articulate his strong points to the American people over Senator John McCain, but also that he was able to fully articulate the differences between himself and McCain in a courteous, witty and intelligent manner. However, that is not what this entry is about.

A friend of mine recently wrote a blog post entitled "Why Did I Stay Single?" In the entry, he's basically asking why, you guessed, he stayed single all these years. For all intent and purposes, he's a smart, funny, caring and a real sweetheart. However, he feels because he's not drop dead gorgeous, more focused on the diaspora than diamonds and is a bit of a professed nerd that he gets no love from the ladies. (For the whole thing, you can read it here.)

My friend's entry has me wondering about the love, or lack thereof that the average guy gets from the ladies. Not the handsome types or the rich types or even the "think they are rich" types, but the average guy working a regular wage job, a man who saves a good portion of his check, who drives a used car and is not one to blow his money on material things. How does he line up against a blinged-out, tricked out material based guy. Is it more important to be about something or to have something around your neck?

Well, the answer has to be in direct relation to the kind of girl you want to attract and possibly be with. Too many men I know are looking for beauty and no brain, for style and no substance. It is no surprise that plastic will attract plastic. My point is, find someone with a strong self-worth, who can say an intelligent word or two and not focus on looks. Hygiene, yes. Halle Berry curves, no. Maybe if men don't set themselves up for rejection or even just look for a "model chick", they'd be able to see the pleasure in dating a "real chick" who may not be as gorgeous, but have much more interesting things happening in her brain. 

*Real chicks are not ugly. Many in fact are beautiful but overlooked for all the plastic people. Also, not all attractive women are plastic. I am a prime example, along with many others that I know.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Kickin It and Doing the Damn Thing

Hey,

I have been doing the low profile thing for a minute. But today, I decided to go out and handle some business that I'd been putting off forever (don't you hate that), and I just was thinking in terms of myself in relation to the rest of the world.

I realized that even if one person is bummed, depressed, afraid, upset, angry, etc..the world still goes on. I guess I felt like my life was a movie, I was the star, my friends and family were all supporting characters and the random people I encountered everyday and didn't make any kind of connection with were extras. People I knew, but weren't around as much as my friends and family simply made cameos. So, I finally realized that's quite a self-centered way to think. It's more about not letting circumstances cripple you so that you can enjoy your movie, whether you are the focus of it or not. I'd been in the house a little bit too much, mainly because I'm just in that mood...but I guess in some weird way, I felt like the world would have stopped. I guess it makes me feel kinda small, but also urges me to not get into the moods where I want to stay inside more, mainly because I will feel as if I've truly missed something.

So, in my adventures in being local, I think I've made progress in trying to get my kitten Samantha trained. Training a cat is difficult, let me just say. If the cat is stubborn, like how both she and my older cat, Hugh Laurie, are, it is even more difficult. But because I stuck with it, she's just as smart as Hugh was at her age, if not smarter. I've also been doing a lot of reading, with these LSAT books and researching the classes, and all that FUN stuff.

I wish I could go into detail about everything currently happening to me, but I can't. For the first time in my life, I feel a little stifled. It's weird, because no one or nothing has ever gotten me to the point where I felt like I couldn't talk. And now I am. But I digress.

My question for the people who are reading is this-

At what point do you let the things that invigorate your life, and make you what you want to be, isolate you from the aims and focuses of the everyday?

Just a question

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Seeing the World in Technicolor

Hey,

I've been M.I.A. for a couple of days, just because a lot has been going on. Life is a bit of a whirlwind right now, what can I say. I feel like my view of the world is much more optimistic than other people's. Yes, that may be naive of me, but who cares? I see the glass as half full, and I believe that things can and will get better. 

This economy is f**ked up...almost to all hell. Thanks to Georgie Bush, we're in a war that most of us don't agree with, people are dying everyday, and 60,000 people a week are losing their homes. Now, John InSane said that that number is so high because these people got into mortgages that they could not afford. I got a wake up call for his ass....my mother is in the mortgage industry. She's been in that industry for fourteen years...and I asked her opinion about it. She says that in order to even determine a mortgage payment for a potential buyer, you have to take 33% of their income and use that as a barometer of what they could pay each month. This number is 33%, simply because they figure the average person uses 2/3rds of their income to pay bills, survive and save. Also the future homeowner also has to have very little exorbitant debt, because otherwise their ratios would be off and they'd be unable to pay. She thinks it's unfair of InSane to assume that all these people just jumped into expensive mortgages, but instead to ask the mortgage professional that prepared their loan if they set these people up. Option ARMs are not permanent, and some people forgot that. Others lost their jobs and couldn't afford their mortgage or any other bill. It was sad and terrible to see.

But I believe it will get better. I know it looks bleak, but I know that all the economists will get together and get a credible solution going. I also believe once the Iraqi war ends, it will provide us with a reprieve, that companies will come back to the United States and people will have faith in the American dollar and it will be strong. It will take hard work, belt pinching and some fiscal conservation, but it will happen. So have faith. 

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Why Do I Over Think the Smallest of Things?

So I started this blog with the idea that I'd share my most inner thoughts and try as little as I could to censor myself. However, along the way, I found that it be best that I not put people's names out there, as well as myself, for the sake of having some privacy just in case someone off the street walked up to me and started asking me about my postings. 

Weirdly though, that has happened, especially when I posted about my ex saving me from the hands of two would-be rapists. But I digress.

I've decided to just go back to my original plan and let things fall where they may. Who cares, life  is too short?! So, with that, I delve into my latest MisAdventure.

I am celibate. Yes, I said it, and no I'm not lying. A long time ago, back in my Washington DC days, I was okay with having sex outside of a relationship, and was okay with the idea of having more than one partner a year. Some people aren't, and considered that slutty, and I pretty much told them to go to hell. Literally and figuratively, I said it. I drank at parties, had a good time, always was at a party or going out on a date, and if I wanted to sleep with a guy, I did. I never had an issue with sex, did not consider myself to be conservative and enjoyed my lifestyle. Just as a side note, I've always believed in protection and safe sex, and have never had an STD.  Nor have I been in any situation where I found myself loathing my annual gynecologist visit, awkwardly waiting any test results. No shockers in that department. 

However, I wasn't sure I liked that person. She was a bit too unfocused on school, a bit too vivacious and liked to spend her nights drinking and partying, her mornings in the bed and drinking tea to calm down her headaches rather than go to class. But the grades never suffered. Both she and I knew that failure was unacceptable, and anything below a B was a problem. It was a strain being both her and me at the same time, because it was draining me physically, mentally and emotionally, so I decided to let the party girl go, and I have to admit, it was really hard to say goodbye to her. She was fun. But she was keeping me from achieving my goals. In letting her (the party girl) go, I embraced my inner nerd. 

But, in the process of letting the party girl go, in 2004, I decided to become celibate. Well, I broke that a few times when I was in relationships, but outside of those, I would not have sex. However, I didn't realize that abstaining from sex would be so difficult. Not for me, but for those around me. Men who I knew as friends revealed their desire to sleep with me, men I dated wanted to sleep with me, women I knew didn't believe I actually was celibate, my celibacy made them feel like whores, and I was cursed out,  along with their opinion of me going downhill, mainly because they figured I was lying about it or they chose to push me down to feel better about themselves Who knows? But I know that I have no reason to lie about having sex, about my lack of a sex life, especially to anyone else. I don't need that much praise from anyone. I've thought often about breaking the celibacy vow just because of the drama that having it entails. I even got close to doing it. Then I realized that I'd be breaking the vow to appease others, and I realized that was wrong. Plus, the guy was a dick. So, I am happy to say that I did not go through with it. 

My over-thinking comes with the fact that I am stressing over this decision to be celibate. I'm not going to be such forever, just until I get the right feeling about the right guy, whether that be on the wedding altar or on the seventh date. I don't know why I think so much about it, but I do. It seriously keeps me up nights. I had a dream that some guy was trying to deflower me, and I woke up in a cold sweat. So why am I over thinking this? Is it because I feel like I'm not sure in my decision? Or just that I'm second guessing it because I made the promise/vow for the wrong reason, just to prove to myself that I could?

(To purchase the "Embrace Celibacy" tank pictured above, click here.)

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

The New Goal

Hey,

Just wanted to say hi, and give a few updates on stuff. Nothing too elaborate today, my head is pounding, I think my cat is sick and I've gotta get up in the morning.

1- My male BFF Kevin is so much better now. Against all odds, he's still here, and he managed to walk out of the hospice they'd put him in after he was basically in a drug-induced coma to reduce his pain. The hospice stay was 3 weeks, he woke up after the first week and immediately wanted to leave. He worked towards it and made that a goal, and he did it. Immediately after leaving, he went to a holistic doctor, and fasted for 3 weeks to get all the toxins out of his body, eating only small organic dishes on the weekends, and drinking only organic juice and water during the week. I haven't seen him, he's still in California, but from the phone I know his voice sounds stronger and he sounds more rested. He has yet to go see a doctor, but when he does, I am hoping the prognosis is good. For all purposes, it is a miracle.

2-I've put up a "Donate" button on the right side of the blog. It's for my trip to Europe after my graduation in May of 2009. I've always wanted to go, and I figure asking for donations, the worse thing that will happen is that no one will contribute. If you have a buck or two that you wouldn't mind sharing, hook me up. The money's going into an account that I'm setting up to save for the trip, and whatever you contribute will be greatly appreciated.

3- I'll be doing my radio show Saturday night, discussing one of my favorite topics, RELATIONSHIPS, (haha) from 7 to 9pm, and I'm going to try to blog as I do it. We'll see how well it works. If you are interested in listening, click here. Follow the prompts on the website, under the "Listen Live" area. If you have a question, you can ask it in the comments or email me here if you want your comment to be more private.

Take care and I, as always, want your thoughts...

*Ashley Robin*