culture – Page 15 – Britt Skrabanek

What’s wrong with having dreams, anyway?

Nasher Sculpture Center - Dallas, TX — Nasher Sculpture Center – Dallas, TX

When we’re babies, our parents have dreams of grandeur of what we will become. The doctor, the scientist, the celebrity.

When we’re kids, every adult we encounter asks us what we want to be when we grow up. And we answer them with conviction. A cowboy, a ballerina, an alien.

When we’re teens, our teachers prepare us for the future, to figure out which piece of expensive paper will pave the path to a fruitful career. Teach and be poor or business and be rich? Choose wisely.

When we’re adults – thrown into the world of bills, loans, and other hyped up seriousness – our dreams tend to fade. Usually, they disappear altogether.

Yet, sometimes they are revived. Quite suddenly you’re doing the things you loved most when you were a kid…coming full circle. You play music, you paint, you write.

You’re not the suit, you’re not the boss, you’re not the mom, you’re not the bachelor, you’re not the assistant, you’re not the alcoholic, you’re not the divorcee, you’re not the nobody.

You’re just you. And, you’re effing happy about it.

If you’re one of these dream-chasing adults, you’re often out of place. Everyone’s playing make-believe, the adults on one side and the children on the other.

Playing adult is allowed, respectable even.

Playing child isn’t. As a matter of fact, you’re the troublemaker.

I’ve done the day job thing most of my life. Hell, I’m doing it now…Monday-Friday, 9-5.

I play dress up every day just so I can play the board game. Buy, sell, trade. I was never any good at Monopoly. I liked ridiculously colorful games like Twister and Candyland.

For me, playing with the grown ups is just a game of pretend.

I will always be the rumpled employee who gets ready for work in five minutes flat, the grown ass woman sleeping with a stuffed animal, the hopeless case daring to dream because she can’t live any other way.

And, I don’t know why it’s so strange and unusual. I mean…what’s wrong with having dreams, anyway?

Challenge Accepted: Show us your shelves

“There is no friend as loyal as a book.” – Ernest Hemingway

Oh, Ernest. You were a feisty son of a gun, but you said some mighty things.

So, my rad blogger pal Letizia over at Reading Interrupted posted something super fun last week, a “Show us your shelves” challenge that’s been traipsing around the blogosphere.

I just couldn’t resist unveiling my dusty ass shelves.

Like many of you, most of my current reading is of the ebook variety. Obviously that would be the most anticlimactic picture ever.

Hey, look at my Kindle bookshelf screen, everyone! (And, cue crickets.)

Please excuse the insanely crooked pics. When you live in a shoebox apartment, you literally squeeze your belongings into every nook and cranny. Taking straight pictures when the corner of your desk is jamming you in the arse is impossible.

OK, Britt. Enough with the disclaimers already.

OK…

These classics are so cool, they always accessorize…

You might be wondering if that is a giraffe’s butt in front of the Hitler biography…

Indeed, it is a giraffe’s butt.

Meet Henri, our guardian of the ratty books and keeper of the giant headphones. Originally from France, Henri enjoys reading Ken Follett books, practicing Yoga, and listening to excellent tunes.

You didn’t think there would be a book shot without a cat around here, did you?

Aww…

Alrighty, folks. It’s your turn. Let’s see those dusty ass shelves!

Chicago in 7.5 Hours

That’s a bunch of BS, really. There’s no way to experience this skyscraper wonderland in less than eight hours.

What we commonly call Chicago comes from the Native American Chicagoua, a word often debated as meaning either garlic or onion. (And, you thought you’d never learn anything on this blog. Shame on you.)

Either way, it’s the stinky veggie we all tend to love.

Normally, I’m the non-tourist type. Mr H. and I blend in with the locals, keep a low profile, and leave the fanny packs at home. Kidding, kidding. We do not own fanny packs.

So, last Saturday I gave Chicago in a day the old college try.

My super awesome sister was visiting from North Carolina, and it was her first adventure in the mid-West. We braved the back and forth trip to the city via Amtrak from Milwaukee.

And, we got down with our tourista selves.

In fact, we may have gone a bit overboard with our tourista selves…

Tourist Trap #1 – Navy Pier (The Unapologetic Bastard)

The Navy Pier is one of those places you’ve got to go to once…and, probably only once. This picture was taken first thing in the morning just before the salivating mobs invaded. There may be other things to see there, but I couldn’t tell you. My sister grabbed some goofy souvenirs and we freaking ran.

Tourist Trap #2 – Chicago River Cruise (The Hopeless Romantic)

Ah, the Chicago River cruise. That fleeting adventure I could never embark upon during my previous trips, because the damn river was either frozen or green. You’ll drop a handful of bucks to take an architecture tour, but as you can see from the pictures, it’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.

Tourist Trap #3 – Chicago History Museum (The Kooky Nerd)

The Chicago History Museum is pretty low on the totem pole as far as museum popularity is concerned in the Windy City. I’m more of a history gal, so this was my kind of place. The coolest thing was the L train from 1893, where you can actually go inside, have a seat, and hang out. I took the interactive option a little bit too far throughout the joint as you can see.

Tourist Trap #4 – Millennium Park (The Shiny Exhibitionist)

Millennium Park is Chicago’s very own Central Park. As this was our last stop on our tourist assault, it was refreshing to see both natives and rubberneckers alike kicking back, enjoying the space, and playing with the Cloud Gate sculpture. (I called it the shiny turd. But, that’s just me.)

Britt’s Chicago Summer Tips

Don’t even think about driving. Walk it, cab it, or ride the “L”. All three will likely give you monster bruises, but you’ll keep your sanity.
Don’t assume the crosswalk is a safe haven. That part about not driving in the city also applies to who’s driving…the natives. They will mow your tourist butt down, so move it along.
Don’t look up while you’re walking. Yes, the buildings are incredible and they soar right into the heavens. Just don’t become a permanent member up there when you wander off the curb with a silly grin on your upturned face.
Don’t wear anything that chafes. Midwest summers are humid as hell! Wear something loose that you won’t regret later, if you know what I mean (wink, wink).

How about you guys? Have you ever tried squeezing every damn thing you can think of in one day of travel?

The Permanent Book Sale

Hey friends!

Just dropping a quick note to say I have decided to lower the prices on both of my little books to $2.99…permanently! So happy summer reading to you from your indie author pal, Britt.

In the heartland of oil money, Jaye Davis spends her whirlwind existence trapped in the battle fields of high fashion. Surrounded by sparkling ambition and plastic perfection, she reluctantly masquerades as a sales drone at Lyman’s, a luxury store in Dallas. After escaping a turbulent past and leaving everything behind, Jaye struggles to find her place in the world. Armed with a quiet determination, she embarks on a solitary quest, searching for certainty in an uncertain future.

But Jaye Davis isn’t her real name–only a byproduct of the witness protection program. Once her fabricated identity is thrown into jeopardy, she flees to the haunting allure of Prague. Unearthing her roots in an important step toward self-discovery, she learns to surrender to the life she truly deserves.

Watch the Inside Look

Buy on Amazon

A modern day woman, torn by her illusive dreams, awakens to a strange life in 1943, hurdled against the throes of destruction in wartime Berlin. Following a haphazard trail of clues, she discovers her new identity as Alina Feuer, code-named Sparrow, a famous entertainer, seducing a high-ranking SS officer to gather vital information for the Allies.

But, Alina is an amateur in these incessant spy games, relying solely on her wit and instinct to make her next move while frantically hiding her erratic behavior from the watchful eyes of her suspicious liaison/love interest and her pestering socialite gal pal along the way. A reluctant heroine, she must use charismatic glamour as her weapon of choice to fulfill her deadly mission before the week is through.

Watch the Inside Look

Buy on Amazon

Unrequited Summer

My darling summer,

How I pined over you during those numbing months when winter stole you away. The days were deprived, the blankets failed to warm.

Now you are here, loud with your unapologetic radiance.

You blind me with your provocative shades of green, lawns of tangy lime and leaves of emerald jewel. You mesmerize me with your endless sky eyes, sometimes speckled with curvaceous white. You hold me in your pretty scented arms without the urge to stifle, only to offer up some of that glow. You serenade me like it was nothing, mastering chirps and breeze into the most resplendent symphony.

Like my heart, my windows are open, beckoning the city inside – crisp construction, undulating sirens, boisterous garbage trucks – and those silly, drunken melodies from the lush crew staggering upon the incompetent sidewalks.

None of that turns me sour. How could it, when all is consumed by such sweet? Your damn beautiful sweet.

I know that no matter how many sentiments my cherry-stained fingers conjure, you will still leave me. You will vanish silently, wither away until your brightness becomes barren.

Until then, I will relish every golden ounce of you. And know, my darling summer, that I will forever be your paramour, forever thirsty for your unrequited love.