Regular Life

It takes about a minute for someone to figure out that I’m a nerd at heart (and a glance at my tapered-leg Levi’s would cut that time in half). I’ve never used a pocket protector, but I have been known to wear glasses I patched up using the wire from a twist tie (much less conspicuous than white tape). To me, that’s just ingenuity.

I have a history of being torn between the cool and the nerdly.

I admire people who put themselves out there for the world to see, no matter what their personality. Although I’m a nerd, I’ve always tried to keep the surface fairly nerd-free, expressing it openly only in a controlled atmosphere (i.e., in the presence of other nerds). Call me a hypocrite if you must, but I think most people adapt to their surroundings. It makes everybody more comfortable, albeit a lot less interesting.

Just last year I finally started displaying in my cubicle those few “Star Trek” items I own (tiny ships that also can be ornaments). Some co-workers bought me a Darth Tater, and I proudly display it, too. I have a small Serenity movie poster. Of course, I work for a software company, where typically those kinds of things are appreciated rather than ridiculed. I can’t take too many courage points for that.

I have nerded up my wife quite a bit. She never watched anything “Star Trek” until I came along, but as she caught glimpses between doing laundry, knitting sweaters, and baking pies, she got sucked in.

No matter how hard I try sometimes, I just can’t hide the nerd inside. Take right now, for example. I sit here in Starbuck’s (cool) alone (nearing the thin ice) typing my blog entry (cracks spider in all directions). My $15 Starbucks gift card brought me here instead of Wendy’s or Taco Bell (one foot breaking through).

I chose a seat in back and noticed that all my sandwich’s filling was lumped toward the front of the bread (okay). Nothing bugs me more, so I used the Romaine lettuce leaf to spread the sandwich filling evenly across the bread (and there goes the other foot). The sandwich, with cranberries, chicken breast, and great gobs of mayo, was delicious. Even though the sandwiches are brought in fresh each day, they have nutrition facts labels on their cellophane wrappers. I had to read the label (up to my chest now). Wow, 30 grams of protein. (up to my neck)

I feel gas bubbling downhill in my intestines. I control it (climbing back out now). Still in full control, I grab my white chocolate mocha (triple axel) and walk out the door, relaxing and letting the wind carry my worries away (snapped tibia on the landing).

Update: Simon astutely brought to my attention that self-aware nerds might be better classified as geeks. As I thought about it more and looked up some definitions, I realized that “geek” might be more accurate than “nerd” in my case. My brother pointed out that “nerd” can apply to almost anyone in a given situation, and that there are varying degrees.

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