"Alright awesome great thank you!"
This is how I closed out my phone call with the veterinarian’s office just now. Gawdd!! Could I have thrown a few more platitudes in there?? It was one of those moments that reminds me that I am still a dork. It’s not something I’ve outgrown, and I’m guessing I never will.
I’m not ashamed to call myself a nerd. That word usually refers to someone who’s knowledgeable about technical topics, like computers. When I was in high school, being called a nerd was an insult, but these days it’s used as a compliment. Kinda like the shabby-chic phase, when having things in your house that looked worn out was all the rage. We’ve got this “shabby-nerd” thing going on, where people actually go out of their way to look like a nerd, donning the signature black rimmed glasses and striped shirt buttoned all the way up to the top. Not me. Nope, I’m an authentic nerd. I’ve got the coke-bottle glasses to prove it. I can talk knowledgeably and at great length about relational databases and polymorphism and… see, there I go. I can practically see your eyes glazing over. Nerd is an easy label to embrace.
I’m down-right proud to call myself a geek. This one usually refers to someone who is enthusiastic about something. Not just anything, though. If you’re enthusiastic about football, that doesn’t make you a geek. Or baseball. Or cars, clothes, music. If you’re enthusiastic about those things, you’re a fan or a connoisseur. But if the subject that lights your fire is an off-the-beaten-path interest, like maybe a sci-fi tv series about space cowboys who fly around the universe doing all sorts of harmless misdeeds interspersed liberally with do-good-ism… well, that’d make you a geek. It can be a fine line between enthusiasm and geekiness, and much like nerdism, geeky-chic has become a thing. Once upon a time, knowing that the Millennium Falcon was captained by Han Solo made me a geek. Now it makes me hip. Of course, I’ve been told that using the word “hip” is evidence that I’m not. But you know. Whatever the modern equivalent of hip is, I’m that now. Along with the millions of other johnny-come-lately Star Wars fans. Somehow a lot of the things that once had the popular crowd looking down their noses at the geeks among us have become mainstream, and the very trait of geekiness has come along for the ride. So if you can correctly identify the appropriate Star verse (Trek or Wars) that goes with Alderaan and Romulus, you are now officially cool. Partial credit if you know they are both planets. Being a geek means you follow your own path, not because other people think it’s a cool path, but because you do. What’s not to love about that?
And then there’s the phrase Dork. This one is reserved for someone who’s socially awkward. A social misfit. Dorks are the ones who answer the question “What’s your role here today” with “I’m the photograpy-yer. Photo. Grafer. I’m taking the pictures”. Yup, I said that once. I was asked to take pictures at a relative’s wedding, and when the priest asked me what my role was, that’s the gem I came up with. For a dork like me, a simple question like that is enough to throw my brain into a tizzy, and there’s no way to predict the verbal vomit that ensues. Awkward exchanges like this are the result.
Unlike nerd and geek, the term Dork has not become chic. I’m not sure that it ever will. It’s an embarrassing trait, one that leaves everyone in the vicinity of it feeling awkward. I’ve developed a respectable toolbox of coping mechanisms that serve me well. One of them is to quit while I’m ahead. Let’s say I’ve been at a party for 2 hours and I’ve managed to keep a lid on the dorkiest of myself. Best to make for the exit at that point, because the storm is brewing and it’s going to spill over sooner or later. For example, maybe you ask me a simple question like: Do you have your Christmas shopping done yet? If you’re paying attention, you’ll see a fleeting look of panic on my face, as I realize that I’m now required to speak. And I’d really like for whatever I say to be witty and intelligent. Or, at the very least, intelligible. The frenzied thoughts that tumble through my mind in the seconds that follow your question about Christmas shopping might go something like this:
No.
That’s not enough! You have to say more!
No, but I’m going to, soon.
Still not enough! Give some detail!
I must have some interesting gift ideas. Books. Boring. Clothes. Even more boring. Theater tickets! That’s interesting! But they were expensive - will it seem like I’m bragging?
Stocking Stuffers - that’s easy. I know I’m getting everyone a pair of these fabulously unique socks this year. Socks, really? I can’t come up with anything more interesting than socks?
Maybe I should change the subject to Christmas decorations. I could tell the story of how I had a box damaged by water over the summer and now I’m going to have to buy new ones. No, wait, that sounds too negative. It’ll be a conversation killer.
Oh no, now it’s been too long without me answering, and I have to say something. People are looking at me! I have to answer! Quick! Hurry! SPEAK RIGHT NOW!!
And that’s the point at which I open my mouth and inevitably a nearly unintelligible jumbled response will spew forth. It’ll probably go something like this:
“ No, but weekend probably, this, you know, coming, I mean. At least ornaments. Not for presents, of course. I mean I need some ornaments because of the rain. Not that it’s raining. It did rain, and there was water. So yeah, ornaments. And socks.”
And you’ll be very polite and look concerned when I talk about the rain and give an encouraging “oh, good!” when I’m done, but we’ll both know that I totally dorked out there for a minute, and it’ll be awkward. Shoulda left 15 minutes ago. Damn.
So the quest to be less dorky continues. I'm not going to give up on it, even though it's a battle I'm destined to lose. I’m a work in progress, and I take comfort in knowing that most people seem to view themselves that way. Even the people who I think are damn near perfect, who I look up to and aspire to be like. They still consider themselves unfinished. So I’ll keep working on it, reminding myself to slow down, breathe. It is actually possible to think, breathe and speak, all at the same time, or so I’m told. I’m holding out hope that Dorky-chic might actually become a thing one day. Can you imagine? I’d be the queen bee! Come and worship at the feet of your goddess, my young padawans! I’d have so much to offer. There’d probably be a shrine.
Well, hey, a dork can dream.
Photo #1: Martin, Kimberlee. October, 2016.
Photo #2 (Eyeglasses): Wix.com.
Photo #3 (Yoda): Pascal. "Yoda". 20 October 2010. Online image. Flickr. 18 January 2017. <https://www.flickr.com/photos/pasukaru76/5099611355/in/photolist-8LCQMH-owjBCX-od3yfi-oeZRgV-75GDhS-od3Qeb-75H82N-osUPoC-793AQM-bqxka7-8Y5NJ9-od3ekq-8Y3afv-6yC5KV-ouvnnu-oeXmGY-ocWfUu-nZUKZ2-od3jFL-odemi1-od3aLR-owbaKM-ouBtu9-od2Wy9-oeXGDu-odeoaN-od45fr-oukx7J-ouweaN-oufsUv-qjnC9M-owhopz-od2Xf7-od38f8-oyf1bi-ougxf2-od2D2A-ouvjuW-od34LU-oukwij-owi1UD-ouwcFL-oeWGsm-odNN3F-orTjdw-ouxaUD-owmhxg-owhpZD-od4QHz-od34RV>