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*

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*

The Unexpected Gift from Facebook

Hey All,

It's the Queen of the Late Night Postings...lol, just kidding. Today, one of the coolest things that could ever to happen to me, happened. It was so unexpected and not something I'd even considered, but here's the story. A few months ago, I wrote a note attached to my Facebook profile, similar in tone to one of my recent posts on here, entitled "So Much Heartbreak, Not Enuf Time". The Facebook note, which you can read here, is emotional, but in it, for those who aren't able to read it, I wrote about my disgust with God in relation to events that had happened in the past, as well as finding a renewal in my faith via my relationship with my local priest. I also discussed Kevin's condition at that time, and while it was terminal, it was nowhere as bleak as it is now. I tear up when I read it, but not just because of the words and memories involved in it, but also because of what a relief it was to get that out of me. I can still remember the pain I was in before I wrote it, physical and mental. I came home, in a frenzy and sat down to my laptop where the words flew out of me. My hands were sore because I was typing so fast and I wrote it in literally about three minutes because all these feelings were about to erupt out of me, and I was feeling sick. When I managed to get the words out, I felt a lot better. Then I went and threw up. Not a great picture of me, I know, but I needed to mentally eject those feelings and then physically eject them too, I suppose.

Anyway, I got the most touching message on Facebook today. I won't go into the details of the note, but it was from a young woman named Diane*. Diane wrote me to let me know that she had experienced a similar circumstance to what I'd been going through and what I am currently dealing with, and how my words helped her find an answer to the question we'd both asked ourselves, "How to go on? How to not hate God and not feel as if the world had turned its back on me?" She relayed some of her experiences and was very open in her words, and I was amazed by some of the things she said, just because they were so painful, without even knowing Diane, I was so proud of her for keeping her wits about her, even through the darkest days. She said in the note that we didn't know each other personally despite being Facebook friends and that she just randomly found me and my profile and my note. 

Honestly, if I could share what she wrote, you'd probably have ended up in tears like I was, but I definitely will not violate her privacy by doing that. Let's just say the girl has not had an easy life and some of her circumstances, well probably all, would have brought people to their knees. Anyway, I ended up in tears because I never would have imagined my need to share my feelings with everyone and no one' actually helping someone. It made me feel so proud that I could do something like that, that I could reach out to someone via a computer, and actually affect them, help them and make a change in their life. I told her, and I'm telling you guys, I will never forget that moment and the following feeling for the rest of my life, and I will love her always for letting me know I helped her and allowing me to experience it firsthand.

*name is changed

The point of today's blog is to make as many connections to reach out and help someone if you can, somehow...if it's a blog that you get published, if it's a volunteer effort like working in a soup kitchen, donating blood or helping with a voter registration drive. Something as small as helping someone learn how to use a computer or set up email or simply reading to someone can change the way people live their lives. Since I've received Diane's email, I've decided to make a huge effort to help out as much as I can, blogging or any of the above efforts to help in small ways...sitting down and actually making it part of my routine. Hopefully if this job prospect works out, I will be tutoring children in the fall...and helping out will become part of my daily repertoire.

*Ashley Robin*

So Much Heartache and Not Enuf Time

Hey Everyone,

I haven't been up to posting in a little while mainly because the past few days, I've been living on eggshells. Just to sum up for those who don't know, I'm a very hard person to get to know. I tend to keep my feelings to myself, and build up walls of protection from outsiders. Some could say it's issues from my mom or my dad, whatever-they can kick rocks, but it's just because I don't want to be hurt. It was so bad in high school that my nickname amongst my posse was "Shady", just because I played my cards close to the chest and had no problem lashing out to those who hurt me in any manner. It was my way of protecting myself. Plain and simple. Anyway, when I first came to Chicago, I was a very sad little girl. In a lot of ways, I felt alone and I had no idea if I'd ever be friends with anyone. I was confused, depressed and just out of sorts adjusting to a life in the Midwest. Well, that soon changed with the unlikely friendship that Kevin gave me.

Kevin is the one person I've been able to turn to when I had to experience all the dramatic events of life, from losing someone close to me, to starting a new life in a new place and finding myself, and even being my moral compass when I felt lost. It was no surprise that he felt he could turn to me, and on one night in 2002, a night that I will never forget for the rest of my life, as I studied and resided in Washington D.C, he told me he had leukemia. To be specific, he had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, and he was diagnosed when he noticed his lymph nodes were enlarged, and after tests, found that his spleen was slightly enlarged as well. That phone call was the worst because he sounded so sad, very unlike the usual rambunctious style of his usual conversations. He seemed sad, but hopeful, and so I was as well.

I researched it for hours after talking to him. I found out the symptoms, the treatment, the life expectancy, all of it and was unsatisfied. I questioned medical students, talked to doctors, did as much research as I could until I felt like I knew all there was to know. When he called me after the doctors had officially diagnosed him, I asked him for his doctor's information, and with his permission, spoke to his doctor for hours about his condition. While Kevin focused on getting better, I focused on the statistics. I wondered out loud if chemo, radiation and surgery were viable treatments for him, due to his slow immune system, and I was the one who took a week off from school to return to Chicago so that he could have my hand to hold while he went in for exploratory surgery. When he couldn't walk, he leaned on me, and when he couldn't get up from the bed to hug me, I climbed in the bed with him. When he couldn't bathe, I washed him and shaved his face, and I was his shoulder to cry on. I'd seen more sides of him than anyone, and I told him, I promised him, that even though the cancer was in his body, it would be our fight, and I would never leave him to fight alone.

In retrospect, those two years I was away from him while in DC were the most terrible, because I could not see him everyday or talk to him every second. When I started to realize that the school was not the school I wanted, I began to think, "If I returned home, I could be there..." and so, I left. Partly for Kevin, partly for me, all because I knew if the shoe was on the other food, he'd have done it for me, no hesitation. When he got better in 2005, was deemed cancer-free and was told by his doctors that he could go to school, I was the happiest person in the world. I saw him drive off to Georgetown and I thought life would be perfect for him after that...and I thought the world had yet to see all that he had to offer. In some ways, I would prove to be wrong.

He started his degree in the fall of 2005. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help people who had the same illness he did, and gain as much understanding of the science that involves cancer in the human body...he volunteered at a children's cancer ward, and he spent time reading about cancer cells. He often spoke candidly about his illness, and would start the statements with "I am a cancer survivor." As the year progressed, he started to develop a general exhaustion. He'd sleep whenever he wasn't in class, and he'd pick at food. We started weekly iChat sessions, and I saw his skin texture change, his eyes become hollow and all the weight he'd gained go away. So, in the fall of 2006, when the change was too much for me to bear, I asked him to go to the doctor. He went, and when he came back, the prognosis was horrible, the cancer had returned. This time, it was cancer in his blood.

So, because it was around Christmas break, he decided that he'd return to Chicago to get his treatments, and return in time to make up his missed classes during the summer, and resume his schedule in the fall semester of 2007. He came home, in his Georgetown sweats and I barely recognized him, this thin man who resembled my close friend, whose eyes told stories of pain, heartache and disappointment, but mostly of frustration with himself for falling ill. I spotted him, and when I saw him, I threw my arms around him and we cried. He smelled like Kevin, he smelled like home. 

I can remember the day of the blood transfusion, how we all waited while the doctors drained as much blood out of Kevin as they could, and infused him with the blood all of Kevin's friends and I gave them earlier. I actually gave the doctors more than I was supposed to, but I did not mind because for once, my exhaustion matched Kevin's. I stayed with him until he woke up, and I watched as the color returned to his face, as his eyes became clearer and he smiled that broad grin of his...he only asked me one thing, "When can we eat?" I knew then he was better, that my dearest friend, who ate family dinners from Pepe's like most people eat a White Castle cheeseburger, had returned. Days later, he had a bone marrow transplant, and had to spend two days in an isolation chamber, but he wrote things constantly. He didn't sleep, and all he thought of was things to do when he was out of his "medical jail". He wanted to see the Louvre in Paris, the Mountains of Colorado, the waters of the Nile. In those times, he had so many dreams.

He would return to Georgetown for two more semesters, and excelled in areas of science, specifically chemistry and biology, almost as if he understood the books without reading them, since the story of cells and their division had ravaged 5 years of his life. Finally, after falling ill again and receiving a so-so prognosis, he decided to return to Chicago for a second opinion and be with his family, his friends and me. He would go through chemo again, as well as surgeries to remove one of his kidneys, part of his liver and scar tissues on his lungs, and after changing his diet, forgoing red meat, and eating more holistically, drinking tea and working out in the gym, he became stronger, and gained all his weight back. He was deemed strong enough to transfer to a local school and take classes there for a semester. However, after falling ill in May of 2008, after he made a declaration that he was not going to subject himself to any further treatment; he was told that the cancer had gone to the one place they were hoping it did not travel to: his pancreas.

When they told him, his eyes were teary and he again felt that same cloud of disappointment that hindered him before, he slumped in the chair and let his weight collapse into it, and he looked at me. I kept looking at the doctor, and I asked what I knew Kevin wanted to, but couldn't. "How long?" The doctor took a breath and looked at the two of us, and told us that because Kevin was opting against treatment, depending on how aggressive it was, it could be weeks or months. Not years. Without looking at Kevin, I took his hand and held it. Before I could ask, I heard his voice ask, "What can we do?" The doctor said, "We will figure it out." But I knew that Kevin already knew what he wanted to do.

For years, it had been our battle, and our fight. But I knew that it was time to let him fight it alone. But how to let him go? How to kiss him and tell him I loved him, letting him carry the burden of the worrying and the fighting alone? How to subject him to such a harsh concept? We both knew it would be a hard idea for me, so due to that and other reasons, Kevin went to California to be with his grandmother..to let her care for him in his supposed final days. Kevin's dream didn't become about seeing the world and all of its beauty, it became simply just to be able to live in it. He began to distance himself from me, to not try to lean on me as much during the time he spent in California, to worry more about being with his dad and his grandmother, to spend his days surfing and walking the beach, and to spend his nights sitting by the ocean.

Then Friday, he fell into a coma after his heart stopped. This happened once before, but he woke up right away. Now, it's not the case. Part of me wants him to wake up, and part of me is ready to let him sleep forever...rest from the pain, the sorrow and the misery of this world. I don't know which one to pray for, and I find myself so conflicted. I don't want him to die, but how much longer will he live? I just pray that he wakes up and walks out of the hospital- one of his least favorite places to be and hopefully, not the last.