One of the most enduring maxims in life is that everybody is at least a little bit everything. Everyone’s a little bit gay, everyone’s a little bit racist, and we’re all a little bit messed up.
But few of us will admit to being even a little bit geeky. Years back, I took a job as a Community Liaison Officer at an embassy. I never developed a talent for accurately describing the State Department universe to outsiders. (I also never developed a talent for correctly spelling the word, “liaison.”)
I was explaining the new job to some friends, and one of the cooler ones busted out with, “You’re like the Deanna Troi of the Embassy!” Naturally, I called him out on his geekitude – how often does someone say something so...dorky? What was worse, though, was that I immediately caught the reference.
The first truth is this: I've spent a lot of time explaining new jobs to friends.
The second truth is that I’m a geek, and so is everyone else. In my case, it's not in any sort of technologically proficient or useful way. I am convinced that gnomes inhabit my laptop and that tiny musicians live inside my stereo.
No, I am a geek in ways that will never be profitable:
I own every episode ever of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD.
I love old-school Doctor Who. I even own an awesome Tom Baker-esque scarf.
Same goes for Red Dwarf, the animated version of The Lord of the Rings, and Mutant X.
I make a lot of jokes about Vogon poetry.
I was in the gifted program throughout school, and was actually sort of honored to be there.
I played Dungeons and Dragons until a frighteningly late age (14).
I didn't have my first kiss until age 15. This, and the previous two facts, may be somehow related.
I catch about 99% of the geek references that come my way (though I’ve never seen Firefly, so those usually have to be translated).
Finally: I have ovaries, which makes the above items about 100 times sadder.
Now that I’ve let my geek flag fly, it’s your turn. Tell me something hopelessly dweeby about yourself. I promise not to laugh (well, I'll be laughing in painful recognition).