Hello Again

My grandma died rather suddenly last August.

I dreamt of her last night.

She invited me in. I sat across from her at her kitchen table. We acknowledged that it had been a while since we last saw each other. She told me she was proud of me about my job. She told me to always stick up for myself and to not let people take advantage of me. She told me about how she was going through some papers she had around the house. I offered to help her sometime if she wanted it. Maybe, she said, which would've translated to a no even if it had been possible. 

I spent countless hours of my life sat across from her at that kitchen table. It's a conversation we easily could have had if she was still alive. It was hardly dreamlike in that sense.

But she had her favorite dog with her, who is long gone. There was no trace of my grandfather in this version of the house, who has survived her. She seemed healthy and she seemed happy. That hadn't been the case for many years. There was no cigarette in her hand. 

It was a nice dream. 

Well, that part at least. If in it I went to her house at three in the morning after finding a dead body in the light of the full moon, that's neither here nor there. 

Long Live The Black Parade

I took off work and drove down to Chicago yesterday to see My Chemical Romance play at Soldier Field.

Devo opened for them. After one of the times I shaved my head, my mom told me I looked like one of the Devo potato guys and I still don't know how you're supposed to bounce back from that.

My mom always gives me this pitying look whenever she hears about me doing things on my own. I was an awkward kid and am an awkward adult-- less, but still very much so. Being bothered flying solo was never an option. Other people not being on board has never stopped me.

I have done many things in my own company that were stupid and unsafe to do alone. The buddy system is crucial, existing as a woman in this world is dangerous especially at night, teamwork makes the dream work, and other such truths. Do as I say, not as I do.

I drank a Redbull that had been in my fridge for so long that I'd forgotten when and why I'd bought it and set the ambitious goal of surviving the night.

I've lived about ninety minutes from Chicago almost my entire life and, not counting layovers at the O'Hare airport, have only been into the city a handful of times, all of which after turning twenty. Once for a few days with my aunt and her family for a trip, once with my ex-boyfriend and his step-mom trying to fly out of O'Hare for a funeral but they didn't tell us until we got there that the flight had been cancelled and we had a very tense breakfast at a restaurant in the city, earlier this year for a trip with Ian and Chino for a couple days, and for the concert. 

While traveling, I've always told people unfamiliar with Milwaukee that it's just the lite version of Chicago. I stand by that. Milwaukee is like Chicago's little cousin who is kind of a loser. And that's okay. I love my hometown dearly.

I think I'm growing out of enjoying concerts like I used to. Don't get me wrong, the concert was awesome. I've loved MCR and their music for years. The lights and effects were cool. [A few years back, I tried to convince my nephew to go into pyrotechnics to profit on his tendency to start things on fire or explode them.] They had an acted storyline going on criticizing the current political climate of the US (this was Devo's message as well and they were far more overt about it). I traded handmade bracelets with someone sitting behind me. Gerard Way is an attractive person. 

Just haven't been as into the last few I've been to as much as I would have been in the past.

I'm getting older. I don't need to be awake that late. My hips hurt all the time. It's loud. I take preemptive ibuprofen before going in. 

After the show, I stopped at Ghareeb Nawaz, an Indian and Pakistani restaurant that my cousin Cindy recommended to me that stays open pretty late. I got home around two in the morning after eating and driving back. I don't miss being a stagehand in the slightest, because I know that crew had a much later night than me for sure. 

Praise for 'Tiny Bookshop'

I’ve been losing sleep playing Tiny Book Shop, a game that was released on Steam and the Nintendo eShop earlier this month. You play as someone who moves to a small coastal town to run a mobile bookstore out of a trailer you pull with your car. 

I loved to read when I was younger. That hobby waned as I hit high school. More often than not, I wouldn’t read the books I was assigned and faked my way through projects, if I’m being honest. 

I always mean to start again. I’ve been in a vicious cycle for years where I go to the library and check out a bunch of books, get overwhelmed by how many I took out, not know which one to start with, read none of them, max out the amount of times I can renew them, still return them way later than that, and pay quite a bit in fines. And then the process starts again. 

I am always somewhere in this cycle. I do not learn. I live a mile away from the library and have books I’ve been meaning to take back for over a week. I was using a hardcover book I’ve checked out multiple times and never started as a mousepad while I was playing. (The Sign for Home by Blair Fell, if you’re wondering.)

I did finish a handful of books earlier this year and have been slowly picking through one for the past month, I will give myself that.

Back to the game– it checks the only box I have for games: you can play even if you’re miserable at video games, which I very much am. Pathetically so for someone who had unrestricted access to a computer before they could even read. (No doubt at a huge detriment to my development. Don’t recommend. I feel great concern and genuine sorrow for ‘iPad babies’, but that is all its own can of worms.)

It’s really cute and laid-back! You acquire books sorted into several genres, stock your shelves, and set out. You can go to different areas of the town and get to know the residents. Sometimes people will ask you for recommendations, and you can sort through short summaries and characteristics of real books and try to give them something that appeals to them. 

There’s already been a few book titles I’ve seen in the game that I’ve written down because they sounded really interesting. Will I read them? My history suggests probably not. But, as my library debacle exemplifies, I am nothing if not very stupidly optimistic and incapable of judging my own tendencies.

Well, there are worse things in the world.

Back to the little seaside book shop in my computer.