The Drama with the Passport!

hey,

i've been out of the blogging game for a while, but for good reason. i have good news, though, and that is that i'm going to europe this summer. very exciting, and the trip is very wonderful. i'm planning it all out now, which is pretty much consuming my time outside of school and the doctor. as far as the medical, i'm doing so much better...and i consider this trip to be a reward for myself. 

so, today i went to get my passport for the first time. well, i should have not listened to my mother's friend at the passport office, and just went to the post office like normal. however, he told us that i needed to go downtown to the official passport office to get it. well, i get down there, park my car and am off. this begins the hellish adventure of obtaining my us passport.

first, i have to go get my passport photo. i go in the little shop, and a spanish speaking old lady points to the stool. so, i sit down. no warning, no nothing, but a giant flash goes off in my face. i must look confused, because she says, "you go" and points off to her side. so i get up, and a few minutes later, my picture comes out, and in it...i look like someone slapped me. so i ask for a retake. this time, i look like grimace the grouch because i'm trying to keep my eyes from widening so big from the bright light. disgusted, i take the photo and leave. (I'm getting my bank to reverse that charge). 

i go to the passport office, and it is PACKED full of random people. so i leave, and am told i can apply at a post office across the street. i go there, and the most mentally lacking person who mumbles everything starts reading all the details on my application. now, that's one thing, but then she starts revealing my details to everyone around. that's right, she starts READING my application out loud in louder than normal speaking volume. She didn't believe I lived in englewood, etc...

finally, i finish there and head out to go get my car and go home. i walk down the street and see two boys tripping a nun, and laughing. so, me being a catholic and young woman, i help her get up and collect her belongings that she dropped as she fell. then i make sure she's fine and proceed to tell the boys (once she is out of earshot) about what her outfit represents and that by tripping her, they have condemned themselves to eternal hellfire. 

so, I get my car and drive back home, killing a seagull. i ran it over with the car, and i still feel guilty. but, it was either swerve and whack an old woman or whack the seagull. since seagulls can't sue me, i figure it's time to say bye to the bird. 

after that, i realized i'd been dinged twice on my card for a charge i never made, and then...i got hit on by....THE CORN MAN.

all of chicago knows this man...he rides or walks up and down thoroughfares on the south side selling the mexican corn...which is a roasted corn on the cob (or in a cup) with mayonnaise, mexican cheese and sometimes has hot pepper on it. because i am light skinned, and wear my hair curly, i am often thought of as latino. and because i was in a latin area of the city, i guess he felt like he could holler. but he was at least 40, had about three front teeth, and was wearing a sombrero, pushing his corn cart down the street. he even asked for my number! i was beyond mortified, especially when all my friends i was meeting saw him talking to me when honestly, i just wanted the corn. 

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Adventures of Life on Bang Bang Row

Hey Everyone,

Now, people who read this blog know that I am a transplant from New York. Not the state, the country or township in England, but the city. I'm from the Southside of Jamaica, Queens. For those not sure where that is, just listen to any song from 50 cent's first album, Get Rich or Die Trying. He, along with another Southside Jamaica native and my favorite rapper, Nas, discuss what life is like there. It's gritty, people are cool to you if they know you, and tend to keep an eye out on their own. Growing up there was like growing up back in the day, all the kids played together, everyone ate at everyone's house and all the kids would hang outside playing tag or riding bikes until the streetlights came on. Now, by no means am I saying it was perfect, but the little block club, five whole blocks full of people both on and off welfare, of Blacks, Dominicans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Chinese and Koreans. I grew up as a racial mutt, not sure where I belonged, and I was accepted by these people wholeheartedly. The area, full of bodegas, allowed all these people of different backgrounds mix and learn from one another. I would eat at old Mrs. Liu's house twice a week, and go to Mr. Riaz's house for lunch. All the kids knew everyone, and all the adults looked out for us, whether they had kids or not. Mr. and Mrs Hiu threw the best Halloween parties, transforming their house into a lavish haunted house with creatures, decorations, and all kinds of scary things that made all the kids scared and we all looked forward to seeing what was different from the year before. Chinese New Year dinners with them were literally amazing, lavish feasts with decorations, all kinds of food and laughs. My mom made the best fried chicken at the neighborhood potluck, and everyone always tried to come to our house for Thanksgiving. Granted, this was the early 90's, in the era of New Jack Swing, but still not that long ago. Amazing how things have changed.

Later on in my childhood, after my parents pretty much decided they couldn't be in a room with one another without trying to kill the other or just be evil to everyone around, including me, I hung out at my dad's place. Later, I would go to stay with my dad for the summers and then full-time for a little while. My father, also lived in Jamaica, but in a neighborhood called St. Albans, about 10 minutes west of my mother's home. St. Albans is like the Beverly community in Chicago, full of sprawling homes on smaller residential streets and little shops on main thoroughfares, but far enough away from the commercial aspect to be annoying. Whenever I'm there, in that neighborhood, I forget the hustle and bustle of regular New York, and almost feel as if I'm somewhere else. The neighborhood has a great history and interesting habitants, like Miles Davis and John Coltrane. To read more about it, go here.  (Ironically, my father is listed as one of its prominent residents). In short, it ain't the Southside of Jamaica. People there are warm and open, kids play together in a nearby park and hang out on someone's large porch until the ice truck came. The kind of neighborhood where you could open a lemonade stand and have water fights. These two places are the places of my prepubescent youth, and I look back on them with fondness and reverie. I miss those days, and often wonder what kind of girl I'd have been if I stayed there. Despite the fact that me and  my father don't get along too well, I think I may have been as well rounded as a person could humanly be. Even though I know I'm still a fairly well-rounded individual even with my Chicago/NYC upbringing.

When I came to Chicago with my mom, we lived in Hyde Park. Now, back then, Hyde Park was not the home of muggings, assaults, murders and rapes that it is today, but basically a neighborhood full of students, older folks, young business people and kids. It wasn't Southside Jamaica, for the lack of crime and sadly for the lack of community. I never felt like I knew any of my neighbors, would never dream of opening a lemonade stand, and always got weird looks from the other kids. Maybe it was because I talked funny. [The NY accent I had until I was about 12 or so, I worked on getting rid of it by watching a lot of CLTV]. Anyway, while I was friends with kids in the Hyde Park area, I never felt truly at home, but I did feel safe.

When I returned home from DC, Mom and I lived on the outskirts of Hyde Park, in Woodlawn. While not as name-brand as living in Hyde Park was, and while the neighborhood had no real sense of community, and the occasional shooting or drug transaction a block or so over from where we lived, but with the Chicago Police and the University of Chicago Police constantly on patrol, I felt safe. 

However, our building in Woodlawn went condo, so the owners told us we could move to where we currently live while the unit was rehabbed and updated, and to this day, I regret taking them up on it. We moved from our place in Woodlawn to drum roll... Englewood!  Now, if you are from Chicago, you know that Englewood is the hood. Straight up, no jokes. There's probably a fight or an argument of some kind every night, and people sell drugs on our corner. Now, I've never been harassed or asked to buy crack, anything like that, but gunshots are something that I hear more than I'd like to, and they truly unnerve me. 

The police seems to be cracking down on a lot of the mess, but one of my guy friends happens to call my block "Bang Bang Row", which I have used lovingly as the title of this blog. My neighborhood is full of people who don't work, and rely on the state for benefits, people who are students at Hustling University, and who seem to have no real ambition or desire to change that. There are gangs, drug dealers and prostitutes here, not in front of my house, but a block or so away. Close enough to be real to me, real like ever before. Now that's not to say my block is bad because people still party, sit on their stoops and people watch all day, but the negative stuff usually has me going inside just before dark. (The man in the Drug Dealer shirt is not a real drug dealer, but Toure, and the tee is part of the Keep a Child Alive project towards helping children with AIDS in Africa. Just so everyone knows that I don't promote drug or drug dealing. For more info, or to get the tee, click here.)

Part of me wonders, from my year of living here, why it is that blacks have to war with each other in trying to hustle? I figure there's enough people addicted to crack for everyone to get a piece of the pie not that I endorse illegal activity to get money, but that like most business models, it is simply a case of supply and demand. Enough people demand drugs, so that enough people should supply it. Also, this thing with gangs...why is it so important to kill someone who belongs to another gang? I can remember back in the day if you had a beef with someone, you fought them with your fists in the street until someone either quit, someone broke it up, or you both got so tired you couldn't even remember why the fight started. Now, we have to worry about people carrying knives, brass knuckles, a taser or stun gun, pepper spray or at the worst, a gun. Seems that a coward carries a gun, where a true man, like most of these "bangers" claim to be, uses his fists and mere mental intimidation to get his point across. What happened to those days? Did technology increase our distance from one another so bad, that even when we want to kill each other, we can just defer to a piece of metal?

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

It's Nice to be Concise (At 4 in the Morning!)

Hey All,

Just wanted to post and say hi. Hi! Lol. I hope you guys like the new background, for all the male readers, I am crossing my fingers in that you don't think it's too girly...and my female readers, that you don't think it's too...mannish and dark. There's a orange bar that has the link to where I got it, so if you're looking to spruce your own blog up, feel free. Keep sending me the links to the blogs, I love reading what's in your minds...lets me know that I'm not completely crazy.

So, today's misadventure...wasn't really a misadventure. I know, I know...it's a FIRST. Long story short, I went out on a pseudo-date with a guy I've known for a while but never looked at like that...and it has been a while, that I can remember spending so much time laughing. I didn't realize I could laugh that long in that short a period. I'm still laughing at some of the stuff that happened..not just what happened, but the reactions to it as well.  Anyway, I'm not into calling things before they happen or breaking down all the details of the evening, but just know, I had a nice evening. I will try my hardest to share my misadventures along the way, and do not plan on losing any of my skepticism and cynicism toward the males, at least for now. And even though I don't get too many comments, I do appreciate all the emails I get, which are more than I'd ever expected to get with this venture. You can email all of them to ashleyrobin@mac.com, and I'll be sure to reply if you are asking for one. (Usually they are just thoughts and don't require a response). 

I am off to bed, and will talk more later.

Today's question: Can someone find the possibility of love in the most unexpected places? And can what your opinion of a person be THAT radically different from what they really are? (that question was inspired by something my mom said to me)

*Ashley Robin*

This Time Next Week/The Way Things Happen/Solo Explorations

I'll be school. Starting next week, I will be a senior in college. Last year of undergrad has finally arrived. Part of me is very conflicted, but the other part is relieved to be that much closer to law school. That's the goal, to go to law school. Everything I do now, in terms of my academics, is related to that. It is not a joke studying for this LSAT though, and I've decided to go on and admit that I need outside help. If I can't get into a class in time for the October test, I'll definitely get in one in time for the December test.  This cartoon is definitely on the money, as far as the time needed to study, it feels like 15 years! LOL...but in the meanwhile, I'll be getting everything together..just didn't realize there are so many fees involved! There's registration fees, LSDAS fees, application fees, document copy fees, transcript fees, and the list goes on and on. I just hope that I score high enough on the test to get into the law school of good financial aid programs (scholarship, anyone) and of my choosing. When I have more of a list of the schools I plan to apply to, I will share it, but now I'm just doing a lot of research into it.

So, a while ago, I was kind of discussing my lack of love life. All of a sudden, it seems as if I've got contenders in the ring showing interest to date me. It's weird how just when you start to think that the possibility of a love life is temporarily M.I.A., you find that you were wrong. And from the most unlikely people as well...people you figure either didn't notice you for one reason or another, or just didn't picture yourself with. By no means does that say I'm on the verge of finding my Mr. Robin, not at all, BUT there are guys who are interested in me and have made that interest known and that's what I wanted...just to feel..wanted. :-) Now, I do, so I feel like there's hope for the MisAdventures to actually become real adventures after all. I just hope that it doesn't cause me to have to change the blog or myself too much, because my misadventures are what keep people coming back to read and read. Even though hardly anyone comments, trust, I get plenty of emails in regards to this blog, so I know that someone out there (including you, Reader X) are currently enjoying reading about my goofy exploits and observations in love and life.

I've also happened to discover that there's some sort of a weird stigma about a woman doing things alone. I don't get that, maybe someone out there can make it clear to me. Just yesterday evening, I was telling a guy friend of mine, a friend who I know wants to be more than a friend,  about my desire to go to Great America before the summer is over, and I won't be able to enjoy any of the rides, especially the addition of a new roller coaster designed after the newest Batman movie, The Dark Knight.  For those of you not from the Chicagoland area, Great America is a nearby theme park full of roller coasters, water rides, etc, similar to Great Adventure or Disneyland, but with Bugs Bunny instead of Mickey Mouse. Well, lo and behold, he starts hemming and hawing, like he was assuming and therefore expecting me to just ask him to take me. Personally, I don't know if I can stand certain people that long, including him. He's kind of boring. But, before it even got to that, I cut him off by saying that I planned on going by myself. Do you know what this S.O.B. did? He LAUGHED. As if that was funny. For some reason, I was slightly pissed. Not only did this guy proceed to say that he thought it funny because women need someone to go with to such a "big place" but also that he'd never think I would actually do it, because I'm "too afraid to be alone". I was shocked, because while this guy is a friend, I realized he doesn't know me too well. 

So it begs the question: Are women really too chicken to do things alone? Or are they just afraid of what others will think?

I'm not. I haven't really delved too into my history before writing this blog, because lord know who reads it, but I spent almost 3 years living on my own in Washington D.C. I lived in the dorms of Howard University for a year, and then I moved out and got my own place for two years after. I worked a full-time job, went to school and socialized, all on my own. I had no escort from the train to my job or from the bus to my job or anywhere else I went. If I went to a club, (which I spent about 50% of my time there doing), I was going solo, sometimes to meet folks, sometimes not. When I was too drunk to even see straight, I called cabs. Hell, I even puked in the backseat of one. (I gave that guy a $40 tip on a $10 fare for that one). And when I went to Adams Morgan for late night pizza and beer, and was hit on by guys from American, Georgetown, George Washington and Catholic, I was solo. So, it kind of hurt my heart that this guy thought I was that dependent on company, specifically male company to escort me on my adventures of an outing. 

So, I've decided, as soon as my car is ready, I'm taking myself to Great America for the day. Alone. Even though now, it seems like there are plenty of guys willing to take me. How's that for irony?

*Ashley Robin*

What is in the Water?

Hey everybody,

So I've named this blog "What is in the Water?" because I look up and over the course of the weekend, three people have died. The fact that people die is normal, but so many people and so quickly...it's baffling. There's gotta be something in the water..something that is taking these men before their time...and it is very sad. Now, I'm in Chicago, so I knew of Bernie Mac before he became Bernie Mac, I'd seen some of his live performances at local clubs and heard about him from older friends. From that, and being in the City of Wind, I knew a lot of people were so happy that he'd become something, were proud of his accomplishments and his sense of humility was so strong that he'd go hang out in the projects, on the street corner, all that. He'd told someone in a store that he didn't need security because even though he was in movies, he'd still f**k a n***a up if they came at him wrong. Which of course sent everyone into laughter. Chicago is truly mourning this guy, their hometown hero, and someone who gave them the idea that if he could succeed, so could they. It's sad because he was a young man, since 50 is the new 30, and was in his prime. My prayers and thoughts go out to his family, friends and those who truly loved him. Not his movies, but the father, the son and the true individual that he was outside of the tv shows, movies and radio spots. 

Now Issac Hayes. Damn! I just found out he had passed a few minutes ago, in between playing with the cats and watching Saw on the SciFi Channel. I'm always sad to hear of the passing of a musician, especially one of Hayes' stature. At this time, there is no known cause of his death, but he was found by a treadmill in his home. I would venture a guess and say with his age, 65, in combination with maybe not so great health, he could have had a heart attack or stroke. I am not a doctor, but it's a guess. 

The two men knew each other and were friendly, and now have each other to spend time with in heaven. I truly hope that they are in a better place, keeping an eye on all of us down here on earth. My condolences to their families, loved ones, children and other kinfolk. It's a sad thing to lose a loved one...especially way before their time, as was the case in both of these gentlemen.

Soul Men, you will be missed. Rest in Peace.

Bernard Jeffrey McCullough aka "Bernie Mac" (October 5, 1957-August 9, 2008)

Isaac Lee Hayes Jr. (August 20, 1942-August 10, 2008)