The Weird Day

Hey,

So I had probably the weirdest day ever, or at least in my top ten. I dropped my mom off at her office in the western suburbs, so I could run some errands, including a early morning appointment with the new gynecologist. Well, I get to my appointment, and of course, I'm a little weirded out because I found out the doctor is a man. I've never had a male gyno before, so I'm trying to deal with the fact that in a few minutes, some strange man will have his hands, face and instruments in and around my vagina. Wow. 

So, I get undressed, put on my paper gown and wait. The guy walks in, and he's cute. Like cute cute. That shocked me, because I was thinking the doctor was going to be some old man or some weirdo, but this guy looked like he could hang out with some of my friends. He tells me that I'm his first real patient out of med school, and I like the idea that my doctor has fresh eyes, is young and relevant. However, his youth and likability are made even more apparent to me during the course of this visit.

I don't really want to break down the steps of my visit, mainly because for the people who know me, I wouldn't want them to have that visual, and for those who don't....well, I'd rather not...but let's just say he was examining my lower half, while feet were in stirrups. He starts to converse with me about movies and what I do here in Chicago, basically asking where the hotspots are, and where I think he should go out for a drink. I recommend a few places and while he's examining me, I'm thinking how great this guy is in getting me comfortable and putting me at ease...when he says out of nowhere, "Are you doing anything this weekend?" Me, being normal Ashley and not thinking, I say, "No, not really..." He says, "Well, I'm thinking about going to see Pineapple Express...would you like to join me?" I don't really know what to say, but then he says quickly, "I know this is a weird way to ask, but trust me, its a friend thing." I told him, through my somewhat awkward feelings, that I'd have to call him and let him know. 

Leaving there, my boy who drove with me to go there was like, "I guess he saw something he liked!" I was laughing, but I started to wonder...at what point is is friendly banter...creepy? 

After that, I got back to my car, and after finishing my errands, I went back to pick my mom up..and this is where I had the other terrible event of the day...I got into my first car accident. I am very rattled, and I don't even want to drive, but I am unharmed.

Here's what happened. I was driving on the right side of the road in the furthest right hand lane, and there was a mini mall exit/entrance to the right of my car. Some guy in a wanna be DeLorean comes tearing out of the minimall and clips my side pretty hard, sending me into a spin. As I'm trying to regain control of the spin, which I do, I finally set myself right on the road. As Im thinking that I'm gravy, and trying to see where the car that clipped me went to, a car in front of me stops short and I rear end it. My front hood is bent, the air doesn't work in the car and the whole front bumper needs to be replaced. Not to mention the lights are bent inward, the hood won't close, and there's a weird noise from the engine. 

The guy who hit me left the scene before the police arrived, so they at first weren't convinced that he existed since the driver of the car I rear-ended did not see him...but there was a clear sign on impact on the side of the car where he hit me. However, in the case of my rear-ending, I am at fault for that. So, unfortunately, I'm screwed. I now have a 500 dollar deductible plus rental car fees that I need to pay before I can get the car fixed. Anyone hiring?

Dammit.

Ashley Robin

The Weekend MisAdventures of Ashley Robin

Hey Everyone,

So I had the hellish weekends to end all weekends. I'd never, in my life, experienced so much drama in such a short time period. First, I have to explain why the events on Saturday even happened in the first place.

I was out and about the other day, and my ex boyfriend Sam* called me. Not totally abnormal, but he was asking me around what time I'd be home. Even when we were together, I never checked in with him like that...but I told him. After I'd been home about an hour, I hear a knock at my front door. I hear another knock, and I get up and answer it. When I answered, there was no one there...but when I looked down, I saw a basket with a little kitten, food, a dish, a harness and a blanket inside. The kitten was all black with green eyes and he meowed at me. I picked it up and saw the note which read- 

I saw this little kitten at a shelter and after seeing how friendly and cute he was, immediately thought of you and your struggle to find a brother for Hughie. Let's go out sometime. Enjoy him. Love- Sam.

Well, if you guys know me, I'm a sucker for cute, friendly kittens. Hughie is a pure example. I decided to take him(who I've named Samson, Sammie for short) to the vet before I introduced him to Hughie...lucky I did, because he's got a nice chest infection that Hughie could catch. So, after putting him on antibiotics, I've had to keep them separate. Hughie's seemingly curious about this kitten, and is being very much the big brother, playing with him through the crack of the door and sitting outside the door, keeping him company. It's been so very cute and endearing.

This is Sammie to the left. He's all black and his eyes are green and he's very energetic. He's got major spunk. He's being isolated right now, because of the chest infection, but as soon as I give him the last of this antibiotic (before the end of the week), he'll be playing with Hughie and having a good time.  I'm looking forward to it, because Hughie's needed a brother for so long. 

This is Hughie in Sept. 2006, right about the same age that Sammie is today. So, I'm a sucker for the cuteness of kittens. I know. Part of me is terrified that I'm gonna end up being that "Crazy Cat Lady", but I doubt it. I know I'll always have Hughie in my life for as long as he lives, (forever and ever). I don't know about Sammie, which is a terrible thing to say, but I've had Hughie for over a year, so I'm a little partial. 

Anyway, so how does all this lead to my crazy weekend? Well, Sam and I had already been talking because of his gift, so we decided to spend some time together to talk about things. I know in my heart of hearts he's gonna start asking about a reunion, but I figure one step at a time...because let's face it, although I will always love him, I will not reunite with him. Period. Why? Well, that's another blog. Anyway, he got tickets from his job to go to this dinner/theater place for a 130am showing of The Dark Knight. Basically, it's a movie theater that shows full-length feature films and they offer drinks and dinner with the movie. Kind of like this place in Illinois, but nowhere near as good. 

*Just so everyone is aware, this is a disclaimer. The following experience did not happen at Hollywood Blvd Movie Theater in Woodridge, which is the facility whose website is linked above, as well as this picture to the left. This place is really cool for a unique experience, check it out if you get a chance.

Okay, so we get to the theatre after driving for almost two hours, and find out that not only does the theatre need a bigger parking lot, the people who gave Sam the tickets needed to clarify what town the actual theater was in. On his navigational system in his car, we'd keyed in the wrong town, which lead to the marathon drive there. We barely got there in time to order our drinks and find a good seat, but luckily, the owner saved us a prime spot, a cushy red love seat with a big table in front of it, centered right in the middle of the action. So, we sit down. The boo for the evening (LOL, what I called him in our dating days) orders a jack and coke and a patty melt with fries, while I order a long island iced tea and a chicken quesadilla with salsa, guacamole and sour cream before the lights go down. We wait for our food, and while watching this movie, I start to wonder about what he's thinking...if he thinks this whole night is a date, if he thinks we'll reunite, if he thinks Sammie somehow entitles him to sex...all kinds of random thoughts flooding my brain like crazy, you guys. 

So, the food comes. Something in my heart told me to look at the food before we ate it, and when I did using the soft light at the table so that guests could see their meal, my chicken quesadilla was actually pork (I don't eat pig) and Sam's patty melt looked horrible. The fries were great, but the meat was an actual gray color. Sent it back. Came out again, this time the tortilla on my quesadilla was burnt, not even cajun-burnt, but just black as sh*t, and his patty melt looked dry as chips. We sent it back again. I figured third time was a charm, right? WRONG! The quesadilla cheese smelled weird, and they made Sam's patty melt without the patty. So, we noshed on fries and watched the movie. It was funny, texting each other back and forth about the terrible food and service, since we couldn't speak to one another during the movie. 

After the movie ends, we leave and walk back to the car. When in the car, Sam asks me to put in a search for nearby 24 hour diners, and I'm messing with the navigation system, while he's laughing at me because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. Suddenly, I hear a voice say, "Get out of the car." Well, I thought it was the police or something like that speaking to someone they'd pulled over, but instead, it was a young man, holding a knife up to Sam's face. Imagine my surprise. I was shocked and chagrinned, to say the least. Number one, because it's a friggin Chevy Corvette... but also because we're in Bumblef*ck, Illinois. No one gets held at knifepoint through a window in Bumblef*ck, IL!  

So, I'm half-scared, half drunk from drinking without having any real serious food to eat, which caused me to take way too long with the navigation, and then suddenly, I feel guilty. Just as I go to unlock my car door to get out, because the last thing I want is to see my ex-boyfriend who I'll always love get his throat slashed. Meanwhile, Sam's thinking about my safety and his car, and says, "No", while putting his hand on mine, as if to say, "don't get out of the car". So I stay there, and just as I move my hand away from the unlock button, I see another guy walking towards my side of the car. I squeeze Sam's hand, and while he's talking to the dude with the knife in his face, he puts the car into gear and takes his foot off the brake...WHACK! The car hits the second assailant.

So, instead of running off, or trying to get the car, the knifewielder, runs up to his buddy who Sam's hit, and starts calling...you guessed it....the police! As if the police are gonna arrest Sam for hitting someone in the midst of a crime. LOL, the world seriously has gone nuts. Anyway, they show up, in about 10 minutes, and the ambulance arrives also. I look at Sam, who looks at me, and I notice his neck is bleeding. After getting a medic to look at it, (it was just a scratch), we are 'detained' by the local police. They have us follow them to the police station, while the knifewielder is arrested by them. We're put into a room, where I am trying to get a handle on this headache I'm getting. Sam's as cool as a cucumber, just anxious to leave. After about an hour of questioning us and the knifewielder, who confessed the entire plan to the police, we're allowed to leave, but we have to spend the night in town. Apparently, the police aren't sure whether to charge Sam with using his car as a weapon or not. (Racist bastards).  So he explains to the police the plan for the evening...in the words of the deputy, who read his confession statement.

"We saw them go into the movie theatre and saw the car, and decided we were gonna just jack the car because we knew they weren't from around here. Then Joe (the one who got hit by the car) saw the girl and decided he wanted to have some fun with her. He asked me if I wanted to have fun with her...so I said I was cool with that..and we decided to just make sure ol' boy didn't follow...but it was really Joe's idea. I really just wanted the car because it was a hot ride."

I will never forget those words as long as I live...that this man, whose face I could see, who was nervous and sweating and antsy and genuinely scared thought about raping me. About probably killing or maiming Sam, and raping me, then doing god knows what with me. I wasn't scared when it was happening, but knowing that, it made me feel terrified. I guess that hearing those words aloud, it being public knowledge that two men were planning to somehow stop Sam from being a factor and not only violate him by taking his vehicle, but make the ultimate violation and force themselves upon me just left me rocked to my very core. I'd never felt as terrified as I did in that one moment. Ever.

After the police told us to stay in town that night, even though we'd decided to because I don't drive stick shift cars that well and Sam was too tired to drive all the way back to Chicago,  we were wondering, where the hell do we stay? Where the hell are we? We were somewhere near Fox Valley, but not quite. It was like we'd stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. The police told us a local cafe was open 24 hours, and we could get a hot meal there if we were hungry, then they'd have a squad car escort us to the local motel. Well, as we were starting to think things had calmed down and that we could relax, we would soon discover that our night of hell wasn't near over.

The time is now 502 am. Sam said that to me as we got back into the car, and we laughed. Only we would get into mess this long-lasting. We followed the road, which actually looked like a dirt pathway, to this diner, which actually was a huge trailer. We get there, somewhat amused by this whole situation and laughing, and get smacked in the face with a big ol' dose of racism!

Apparently, this diner doesn't serve people after 5am. However, three of the police walk in after us and are promptly showed to a table. So, figuring that the police have some kind of special rank in this town that we don't, Sam walks up to their table and asks them about this policy. They, being all white, look at one another completely dumbfounded. One officer, a younger guy by the name of Jones, says, "Oh that's just the owner...they don't like black people." Sam turns and looks at me, as if he wanted to shout across the whole place "what the hell is going on?!" So, after I gave him the let's get out of here before someone finds an old rope face, we left. The officers asked where we were about to go and I said, "To find something to eat."

We leave the diner and start driving south. A few minutes later, we see cop cars behind us, lights not flashing, but the cars seem to be following us. After we realize that we are going to be followed until the morning, we decide to stop messing around and find a room for the evening. However, we find something even more wonderful...a 24-hour K-Mart with a food store! Sigh, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in life. There, we were like kids, running up and down the aisles. We decided to buy ingredients to make sandwiches, pajamas, hygiene products as well as clothes for the next day. I was in heaven. We paid for our purchases, and were so hungry that we made the sandwiches right in the empty K-Mart Cafe, and munched on them while realizing how badly we missed Chicago, the ghetto and hood antics.

So, in our driving, we are told again by the police to go to a motel on the outskirts of town. We get there, and the place looks like it came right out of the movie Vacancy or Psycho. Basically, it looked a hot mess. The place only took cash, and they gave us the 'honeymoon suite', which had nothing sweet about it. The room looked dirty, the bedding smelled mildewed and the place was just creepy. So, we decided to leave there and just sleep in the car if we had to. We walk back to the manager's office, who leans over the counter to look at my ass...and tells us of other motels nearby that we can go to, and while he's doing that, I use Sam's iPhone to find a Holiday Inn Express about six miles away...and it sounds like heaven. The motel manager tells us that he's been told to call the police if he sees us go outside the room or look as if we're about to leave. At this point, both of us are pissed. But, we leave, and call the place on the way over, get a room and finally, get settled somewhere decent.

After all that, you know what Sam does? He tries to get some sex out of me. Says that if saving me from impending doom doesn't justify sex, what does...and I laugh. I laugh so hard that I'm pretty sure the whole place heard me. Finally, after some late-night conversation, we fall asleep in our K-Mart pajamas...and are able to sleep wonderfully. However, we wake up in the morning, and the hot water heater is broken. Plus it was a marathon series of phone calls to even get the service or simply to tell them to housekeeping to provide us with extra us towels...not a problem ...but we fall asleep.

Patiently Impatient/Adventures with a Crackhead

Hey,

I'm blogging today about something that I keep running into...my damn sense of impatience. I am patient when it comes to a lot of things, but some things just irritate me so much, I feel as if I'm gonna pull my hair out because it annoys me that much. Like slow ass drivers, people who cannot understand that just because some chick with a big ass is outside, traffic on main thoroughfares does not need to come to a complete crawl. Chicks with big asses in the hood aren't that rare anymore. Get over it.  Seriously, guys.

I had to go out to Sears to pick up two air conditioners that the owner of my building bought for my apartment, and the pick-up service is supposed to take 5 minutes. Guess how long I sat waiting...an HOUR. Not cool. It wasn't busy, but the one attendant, an older guy who resembled Mr. Burns a lot, down to the three moles on his head...was moving as slow as molasses. Finally, the air conditioners came out, and it took him 10 minutes to get the cart they were on to my car (about 5 feet away from the door, if that)...which was crazy. Then, he wanted to sit and assess the space in my backseat to put them in. This fool literally sat in my car, in the passenger seat and was staring in my backseat. So, while he did that, guess what I did? I put the air conditioners in my car. MYSELF. I literally kicked Mr. Burns out of my whip...and yes, I know it was rude, but he was aggravating me. I'm starting to realize I don't like old people.

Also, I just have to say crack is a foul thing. There's a crackhead or 'clucker' as they can be called, who basically walks up and down a main street, looking for crack. She's a white lady and if I remember, the next time I see her I'll take her picture and put it up instead of the picture of Tyrone Biggums to the left. Anyway, she's doing whatever for crack, following people around the neighborhood, asking the local crack dealers if she can trade a sexual favor for a rock, etc. Now, I'm not gonna lie, I live in the hood. Part of me loves it because there is a local 'color' in the neighborhood, but I hate it too because that color can become invasive if you're trying to study. Anyway, Crackhead Shirley (as she calls herself), was strolling up and down the street in a two-piece bathing suit a couple of nights ago. As I was filling up my car at the gas station, I noticed her stroll up. She seemed unusually cranky, and I didn't speak to her. In line in front of a bunch of teenage boys, as I paid for my gas, I heard a voice say "I'll suck your d!ck for two dollars." I turned around, as a reaction, (really to see who the hell said that) and met her eyes. She said to me, "B!tch, I wasn't talking to you!" and started getting angry...so I walked off and was like, "OK!" I see her again today in the afternoon, she's still wearing the same bathing suit and she's all, "Hey GIRL!!" and literally tries to run to me as I'm getting into my car. I looked at her and was like, 'hey' and kept on riding. She tried to get three dollars to wash my car, but I wasn't giving her or it any mind.

I'm patiently impatient...I have a sense of patience, but I can't stand nonsense. I can't stand waiting in the heat or dealing with people with crack problems. I don't like being in the middle of your shit, and it irritates me. So, lesson for today, leave me out of it, leave me be. Your ears and my throat will thank you.

*Ashley Robin*

My Forward Thinking (In Relation to Gender Roles)

Yes, I know, two in one day! Damn insomnia has me up and thinkin more about the differences in gender, these damn gender roles for example. LOL. So in my thinking, I realized that I have some serious forward thinking on a lot of ish, a lot of which I'll expound on in further blogs.... My guys all say, "Ash, you think like a ni99a!" LOL, I guess that's true.

I'm worried about all these damn gender roles that men and women have, as well as this double standard shit...for example...if a guy sleeps with 50 girls, he's a playa, whereas a girl sleeps with 50 dudes, she's a slut. Now, in no way have I slept with 50 dudes in my lifetime, but I would appreciate being able to explore my sexual freedom as openly as my male buddies.

A few days ago, I was kickin it with some of my guy friends and one of them, who I'll call George*, is a big time pretty boy. I mean, girls see this dude and they go apeshit crazy...when we were younger, George tried to spit his game at me, but I told him to go kick rocks. Why? Well, his face was too perfect. I like guys who have something wrong with their faces. Like their ears or nose or their eyes are too big, or they have a scar or two, or something like that. Basically things that add character to a face. George hasn't even been in a serious fight in his life. Anyway, George was sleeping with a girl named Amy*. Amy was cool with a girl named Sasha* who George also slept with. Then, this fool got Sasha and her own sister Paula* in a threesome. When he came over, the dudes were giving him mad props, like he built the pyramids all by himself. Now, I had mentioned to my boy that one of the chicks he used to mess with got burnt by some dude, and everyone started screaming "she's a whore", but i knew at least two of the dudes in the room had at least had her on her knees once! 

So I was not letting that ish go...I said, "So since some of y'all in here have fu**ed or let her su*k you off, I guess that makes y'all hoes too" and I got immense boos. So my question is, what is the deal with that? Why are there different sexual standards for men and women...is it because women have the 'cavern' while men are the 'explorers'? (That's something that i heard once referring to genitalia, and it always made me laugh my ass off). Give me your thoughts...

*Ashley Robin*

The stick figures picture, I find so hilarious and probably will try to use them when I do talk about sex, (which will be in upcoming posts, since I've gotten emails to do posts about that) are from about.com. I don't think they had THAT in mind when they made those stick figures, eh? Oh, and just so you guys know, (before I get a ton of questions about it) that picture of the "After Sex Towel" is an of actual product, which can be purchased here, either for actual use or as a gag gift. *No joke meant by the word 'gag' either.

*- Names are changed, please do not try to find these people in my friends list...they are there, just not under these names. LOL.

Breaking the Gender Roles

Hey All,

So, obviously you guys know I'm a girl. And in many ways, I'm a girlie girl. I like stilettos, dresses, lace undergarments and fruity cocktails. I like having my door opened for me, I like not having to pay for dinner on dates, I like being able to pick at my food and it be socially acceptable. I also like having a guy carry me around if my feet hurt because of my shoes, and I like being able to lean on a guy when I'm walking, especially when I fit right into his nook..(the nook being that space on his body between his shoulder and his hip, but not all the way by his armpit)...but I'm also blessed with guy tendencies.

Converse to all my female tendencies, I love to drink beer, belch, pass gas and hang out with the fellas. I watch football, I love to watch horror films, rooting for the villain and laugh at the character getting slaughtered, and I think nothing of horsing around and making a fool of myself. But, I also spent summers with my dad, who showed me how to work on a car, from fixing its brakes to working on all the fluids, changing oil and oil filters, to changing out coolant hoses, batteries and even how to mend a tire and replace it if need be. My dad was an ace for that...

So I consider myself pretty knowledgeable...even though most of the stuff I've never HAD to do, but I do at least know how to do things. So it really, really, really irks me when someone, especially a man, tries to be like, "Oh you changed your oil...well, I hope you changed your filter too." *No offense to the person who said that to me* But, I get a 100 comments like that a day. Obviously my car hasn't blown the f*ck up, so I must know a little something...right? And it's always a dude who says that...girls will ask "Can you teach me how to do that, too?"...but fellas, what is with that sh*t?! Why can't you just be like, "Hey, good job" not "Do you really know what the hell you're doing, you idiot.." like just because I'm without a penis that I can't do a typical "man" thing. So my question is, do testicles make you more auto-friendly? Maybe not just auto-friendly, but able to do things that typical females don't...

Also, my mom is a great cook. She loves to cook. I don't...well, not really. I can cook, don't get it twisted, but it's not my inclination to jump up and be like, "Hey, lemme go fix breakfast." Like, with my ex, who'll I'll call Mr. Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda...(He woulda graduated college a year before he did, he coulda been my Mr. Right but he shoulda treated me better) was steadily on that sh*t. In the morning, he'd always ask me to cook something. Gents, just so you know, if you're gonna have your girl overnight, and you're gonna ask her to cook don't have an empty fridge! LOL. That used to drive me bananas. But, I digress. 

The point is, don't go assuming stuff just based off my gender or my race or my anything actually. Just be proud I'm not some lame-ass damsel in distress. Be proud of my independence, hell...embrace it! Be glad I'm not some whiny person begging you for help on something that you may or may not know how to do yourself...love that I'm interested in learning how to better myself with the knowledge to live in the world, and be happy for me. If I add my coolant fluid to my whip when it needs it, play GTA4 on my 360 and belch when I need to..maybe I'll be more inclined to cook, clean or wash dishes. 

*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*

Good Morning! (Well, Not Really...)

Hey Everyone,

So I decided to write a blog entry early in the morning. It's weird, because I'm not really a big morning person in general. I swear, if I could work at night, I'd be too happy, because something about the daytime just bugs the crap out of me. I feel like the sun literally sucks all the energy out of me. The truth is, I have suffered from insomnia since my teenage years, for some unknown reason I can't really sleep, and usually end up taking a sleeping pill to fall out.

Last night, with all the stress going on, I realized I forgot to renew my subscription for my pills. Partly because my doctor wants me to go see the psychiatrist of their practice before she renews them, but I'm just not feeling that dude. I mean, it's gotten be written in a book somewhere that pervy old men, whom I've started calling creevies (creepy old perverts), cannot try to psychologically analyze vulnerable women. Let's just say he was trying to bring up OLD demons and getting a little too touchy-feely while doing so. I told my doctor and they tried to say I was just too sensitive at that time, and brush it off as me just having awkward feelings about the guy. Didn't censure him, fire or suspend him. Not a mark on his record. So, as a result, I've been trying to stay away from my doctor and that dude for a while.

A while back, my car got broken into. I was very, very sad and heartbroken about it, especially since my car is my baby, and my first. Here's a pic of it not too long after I got it.

A 2002 Volkswagen Cabrio. 2 door Convertible. Blue. Leather. Pristine condition. Beautiful. And someone had the nerve to somehow destroy the locks on the doors and literally pull the radio out of its console. I know we're in an economic recession and all that, but dammit, it took me two months and a loan check to get that radio in that car, and it's all gone. Irony is, that radio had a code to use, and if the thieves try to install it into another car, and don't enter it correctly, it won't work at all. The wonders of modern technology.

So, the damage was so bad that I had to make an insurance claim, mainly because I couldn't lock the doors and you guys may not know, but I'm always schlepping stuff in my car. From the days when I worked for Apple and had all kinds of tech stuff in my car, to my groceries and whatever else. Plus, I don't wanna be riding and someone manages to yank my ass out of the seat. Not cool. Anyway, they assessed the damage to be 2500 dollars. I damn near fell on the floor. Not only had these bastards taken my beautiful radio and damaged my locks, they ruined the seal on the driver's side window, ripped up the main console and basically just violated my baby. So, obviously I didn't pay 2500 to get it fixed, but in fixing it, the body shop also put in another radio. I didn't know they did that, and I was so shocked when I got it back. 

Point is,  now that radio is gone. While out and about running some errands, my mom lost the face. No insurance on it like we had with the original radio. So, we have to get another one, since the first radio didn't have theft protection. I'm going to get one probably this weekend or Monday at the latest. 

I do want to announced I have a new appreciation for this man. Everyone who knows me personally and now my blog readers should know I am a fan of slasher/horror films. Nightmare on Elm Street, the ORIGINAL, is a classic on my list. It was before Freddy got cheeseball corny and the idea of someone invading and being able to kill in dreams was scary! All the subsequent films made him out to be a comedian with a razor claw. I only mention because the studio has decided to greenlight a remake. I guess they saw the figures from 2007's Halloween remake (which I thought was very stylishly done) and got greedy. I just hope the NOES remake is as good. I'll be going more into depth about my views on the horror movie genre in a future post since my friends have asked me to enlighten them about it. 

As for me, I'm starting to get sleepy and I need to study for this exam. We'll see how well I do on it.

Oh, and no Kevin news so far...but no news is good news, at least in this case.

*Ashley Robin*

An update

Hey,

I just wanted to write a quick post thanking everyone for the emails, ims, phone calls and other ways to express their thoughts for me and Kevin during this time. It is nice to know people care. I also wanted to write and let you know that Kevin is awake, but in terrible pain and being sedated to keep down the pain. He will be moving to a hospice tomorrow where he can rest and feel better for being out of the hospital. I can't really cry anymore, or think about it too hard because I simply get upset. It's hard to be calm in times like these, but knowing people are there and care about us makes me feel better. So thank you.

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.