In Praise of Nerds

I spent all day last Saturday watching the Syfy channel. I could say I didn’t feel well, but that would be a lie. I did get up to clean for about 40 minutes. (My usual Saturday consists of cleaning, a Pilates class, more cleaning then watching TV, soooooo glamorous!) My husband was at work, my daughter was at dance class and I had most of the day to myself. I decided to recreate one of the halcyon days of my single years, a full 24 hours ahead of me with no obligations or responsibilities. A day to do anything I chose. I chose vampires, werewolves and succubae. That was this particular day; it could just have easily been super heroes, aliens and hobbits. I am a big ol’ nerd. I am a fan-boy trapped in a middle-aged lady’s body. I no longer feel the shame of hiding my delight at finding out the final five on Battlestar Galactica, or the thrill I first felt when I found out that Peter Jackson was finally bringing a live action Lord of the Rings Trilogy to the screen. You can only imagine my excitement when I found out he was doing the the Hobbit movies!

For a while now I’ve felt that entertainment has finally caught up with my tastes, which veer towards magical little men who live in shires and regular size men who turn into animals. The myriad channels on television might be one reason we’ve seen a surge in genre programming, but I think it’s also because yesterday’s nerds are today’s writers and producers. You can make fun of those weird kids that donned capes to play Dungeons and Dragons, and the shy kids who spent their Saturday nights on a journey to Mordor, but they were the ones with vision and imagination. Sure, the cool kids were hanging out at the sub shop, or sneaking into bars with fake ID’s, but without the geeks and freaks, we’d all be watching nothing but warmed over nighttime soaps and even more reality TV then there is now.

My husband and I have a lot in common, we aren’t one of those opposites attract couples. However, our similarities end with my love of Science Fiction, the supernatural, and Disney World. It’s like he’s had a “whimsy-otomy.” He’s humored me through several amusement parks, especially with our daughter. He even enjoys Disney because most of the attractions aren’t really rides (roller coasters make him turn bright red and sweat like Rush Limbaugh in an Oxy factory). He still has a problem with Walt Disney’s rumored anti-Semitism, but I just pretend that an evil Nazi witch put Walt under a spell.

Since I didn’t have anyone to enjoy my genre fix with me, I decided to groom my daughter to be my sci-fi companion. I watched Buffy the Vampire Slave reruns with her when she was only five. (It’s too late to call Social Services people.) That’s not entirely true, we also watched Angel reruns together. Of course, my daughter’s predisposition to supernatural entertainment backfired on me when Twilight hit the scene. She devoured the books (reading, that’s good) and obsessed over the movies (mooning over boys who are way older than her, that’s bad). It also makes it tough for me to keep her away from watching HBO’s True Blood. That show even makes me blush sometimes, not just because of the sex, but the fact that two of the leads are actually married and I feel like a perv whose sneaking a look through their bedroom window.

I have decided to embrace my nerdiosity. The fan boys might not want to hang out with me, but I could probably hold up my end of any conversation about zombies or Doctor Who. It’s not like I’m a Trekkie, but it is fair to say that I am a Trekkie sympathizer. Between the big buffet of fantasy TV shows and movies, and my HDTV, there’s very little reason for me to get out of bed these days, except to go to the door and get the sushi delivery. I’m glad to pass my love of fantasy along to my daughter, as long as she doesn’t bring home a boy with fangs or fur on his feet.