I’m talking about me specifically. Yes, me. Bah, humbug? Nah uh. That’s me.
All of you think I’m sweet and friendly and every word I write sparkles with moonbeams. Humbug.
Hook wrote a post in early March. The title was
Well, I’m a geek DDG i.e. Drop Dead Gorgeous. And yes, the two are mutually exclusive. In my head.
But as you can see, I will never admit to being one. Oh, not because I fear being persecuted by the hip ones. Oh no. Not at all.
I can’t. I cannot come clean yet. About why I will not admit to being a geek.
Let me hide behind Hook’s words instead.
Hook’s post started off like this.
People Who Still Think Being A Geek Is A Bad Thing!
Sadly, these people still walk among us, even in 2012.
They think being a fan boy or girl is somehow linked to a person’s social standing or worth; as if an individual who stands in line for hours – or even days – to get into a convention is any different than someone who lines up for concert tickets or to get into a Coach store.
Right away, I saw my old self in that article. Not as one of the geeks that Hook tried to point out the virtues of, but as one on the other side. One of the other that walks among all of you. Not today. But back in 2008.
I was judgmental back then.
Below, I will paste an excerpt of my correspondence with a friend who I shall refer to by his middle name, Nate. Nate is an engineer.
The excerpt below is one of the many examples of the me of old running down those I thought were not …. not ….
No. I can’t tell you. But I don’t think like that anymore! (Well.)
Today, I do not judge, uh, certain people for being, uh, a certain way. Not right away, that is. That awful label is not the last thought about them on my mind either. But I still have a few fleeting, flaky thoughts in between. It’s one of my human traits. I’ve accepted this fallibility of mine.
Back to Nate.
Nate has a wide range of interests. One of them is swing dancing. (He likes it so much, he studied and teaches it as well; on an irregular basis because he travels a lot.) The excerpt starts off with us talking about swing dancing. And then
I kick it it goes downhill. Yes, my former, judgmental monster rears its vile head.
Don’t brush it off with, “Oh Kate, you’re too nice to be anything but.” You’ll see, people. You. Will. See.
Nate and I hail from different countries.
When we wrote the following four years ago, both of us were in completely different countries, too. Nate’s text will be in blue and mine in brown.
Nate: One of the coolest things about swing dancing is that I can dance with people from all over the world…we all know the same dance.
Me: That is cool! I never thought of it that way! None, rather far less, of that awkwardness of being around strangers from strange lands with strange habits and speaking in strange tongues.
Nate: So far I’ve heard two explanations that make sense. One is that, in order to get good at swing dancing, you have to be a bit OCD…which fits the engineers to some degree. Secondly, where else could an engineer touch someone of the opposite sex without getting slapped? 😉
Me: Okay now. You engineering lot? You give yourselves too much (dis)credit. OCD? How about attention to detail? And why would any gal in her right mind want to slap you guys? Okay, okay, I know your ilk along with the accountants and a few others are not so hot with the “hot” chicks.
In Canada, I had watched (yet another) reality show called ‘Beauty and the Geek’. 5 pretty, below average IQ women (to dispel that myth, not all were blondes either) and 5 nerdy blokes were made to live in the same house. I watched it because I was very curious to know whether looks or intellect alone could attract or repel people. I’ve never had a problem with blokes who are dweebs/dorks/one-of-us because I can at least converse with them.
Anyhoo, what I learned from the show is that initially, each group judged the other solely on appearance. They eventually went beyond the superficial, and personality traits then determined whether someone stuck around or not. There was all that conniving with the eye on the money all the time, of course, and that resulted in some of the nicer contestants to be expelled early.
I tend to be very critical of those who score higher in the looks department, but lack grey cells below the impressive packaging. I feel bad at times for being such a flaming sapiosexual (don’t freak. It’s one of those wisecrack terms for someone who is attracted to the intellect), but I really do get bored if I can’t have a conversation I enjoy with a guy, irrespective of what he looks like.
And doing a dash good job of not hiding it. 😦
Me: That movie I went for recently, for instance. One of the top male models-turned-duh-I-mean-actor acted in that flick. I liked <Model/Actor’s Name> in the movie because he played a sombre, contemplative role. Then the movie became a hit and he’s (still) all over the news looking all model-ly and stuff. Nothing wrong there. But in real life, he’s not like his reel life character. So I began slamming him for being another pretty boy, for “cheating” me that he had substance (see how judgmental I can be?), etc until last week.
In the local newspapers, I read an interview with him wherein he talked about his daughters’ reactions to having their names tattooed on his … don’t remember where; don’t care either.
The little girls, aged 6 and 4, exclaimed in dismay, “But they won’t go away!”
He replied, “And neither will you.”
I thought that was a beautiful reply. For all the flakiness in that industry particularly, and in the world today, generally, he’s a good dad. I cringed when I read that and vowed not to be so hard on him for looking as hawt he does, but not being as enthralling to converse with.
I’ll just plug my ears the next time I hear him speak. Because I know fo sho he won’t be spewing Einstein’s ‘Theory of Relativity’. Arrgh! I’m so bad!
*covering my eyes*
There you have it.
That’s who I used to be 4 years ago. I am not ashamed. I am not proud. It was a phase that, mercifully, has ended.
This distasteful phase began when I graduated and began working at my first job. It lasted well over a decade. I do not know how or why I was so judgmental back then. I do not know why I am so nonchalant today either. I cannot pinpoint the precise turn in tide, too. I attribute it to me evolving as an individual.
I wince sometimes at the thought of some of the unsavoury traits like this one that I embodied in the past. But mostly, I am relieved and grateful not to be like that anymore.
I have not achieved nirvana nor am I readying for sainthood by any stretch of the imagination. I am just a nicer person today. And I can feel the difference.
It feels nice to be nice.
But remember, all that glitters on this blog today was not necessarily always gold.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ACKNOWLEDGEMENT :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Thank you, Hook, for readily agreeing to let me use an earlier post of yours to generate this one.
Um, Hook? I have a question. Do you … do you … still think (my) “Dad would be proud” of me?
*covering ears in dread of response*
P.S.: Cheerful Monk adds a footnote to every post acknowledging those who comment on her previous post. She also links the commenters’ names back to their own blogs.
I like both these practices of acknowledging the time and effort made to comment, and the free advertising! So I’m doing what I do well – being a copycat!