Finding themes that maybe aren't there.

I was supposed to work at the bookstore tonight, but, when I walked in, they told me that they didn't need me.

Which is cool because I needed desperately to clean my apartment, and some friends organizing my high school reunion really could've used my help.

So, in typical-me fashion, I didn't do any of that and instead went to the movies for escapism, avoidance and plenty of self-reflection.

I saw "Collateral," which was a really great thriller about how it takes having a dangerous, scary contract killer riding in your cab to get you to finally give up the night shift after 12 years AND call the really nice person who's attacted to you.

Then, after making some phone calls and never once setting foot in my messy apartment, I went to see "Garden State," which was a really great comedy-drama about how it takes your paraplegic mother drowning herself in a bathtub to get you to finally wake up from your anti-depressant haze and clouded feelings of immense guilt AND go out with the really nice person who's attracted to you.

I'm guessing that the filmmakers maybe didn't see the films that way. Maybe I'm in a mood.

My mom called me today to let me know that my stubborn, ailing grandfather is scheduled to have back surgery in two weeks. This, of course, is the back surgery that we're opposed to him having because we fear he won't live through it, but he insists that he doesn't want to live with a limp or live in physical pain. (I, for one, consider that a personal affront, even if it's not right for me to do so.)

The part of my trip to Ohio that wasn't fun was the incredible, all-encompassing, dark fear that I was never going to see my grandpa again. I was never going to beat him at Rum 500 again, a game that he taught me to win after I told him over and over about how I couldn't do it and couldn't get any better. He sat me down, and he made me learn it. He sat me down and kept at me mercilessly until I beat him. My grandpa taught me how to trash-talk people during board games. He taught me that you can be mean, blunt, formidable, distinctly yourself while forsaking all others and still manage to get people to love you. Wholly love you.

My grandpa taught me that it was no fun to be had if you didn't pull up to the table and play.

In my life, I feel like I'm not doing that enough.

I haven't written much about the rest of my trip to Ohio because the thing I remember most clearly is that, for the first time ever, I beat my grandpa at checkers. Having already given him one victory, I put my mind to it the second match, came after him offensively, then antagonized him until he had to yield.

When the game ended, he immediately called for a rematch so that he could beat me more times than he lost. And he did.

But I did beat him. And when we were putting away the checkerboard - a nice wooden, folding carrying-case board that my brother Dan got for him years ago - that was when I felt close to crying.

That was when I was reminded of when I was eight and he walked with me in the mall past the store that had models pretending to be still mannequins. To get them to break their plastic composure, Grandpa had me wink at the models until they giggled. He loved that.

He's going to make it through this surgery. I'm being silly.

Nevermind.

Anyway, so the movies were good tonight. Really, really good. Jamie Foxx is really good in "Collateral." And Natalie Portman's hilarious in "Garden State."