Exposing My Inner Nerddess

My boss, a supervisor, and I sat in my office this morning and discussed the recent additions of physicians to the practice.  My boss turned to the sup and said, “Space—“

“The final frontier,” I blurted out.  Oh dear.

They turned to me and busted up in laughter.  My boss said, “Michelle, I had no idea you were a trekkie.”  Oh, how little they truly know about me.  The shows, the movies, even the laughable scenes from the early years; yes, I secretly love them all.  Even the bad ones.  Now, I don’t call myself a trekkie, mind you.  I am a definitely a fan, though.

I professed my twenty-year adoration for Jean-Luc Picard to my boss and received more giggles.  This love will come as no surprise to my friends and family, as most are familiar with my obsession with Kojak when I was a mere four years old.  I like those older, bald, badass men.

Oh.  My.  *sigh*

I am not a goddess; I am a nerddess.  I do not have an “inner goddess” who tells me that I want the perfect, gray-eyed, pants-slung-low-on-hips, well-endowed, dominant, helicopter-flying, Audi-buying, eyebrow-raising, finish-the-food-on-your-plate-demanding, gasping, blah, blah, blah, twenty-something, feed-the-poor-in-Africa-giving, self-made billionaire to spank me (oh Lord help us all if this is the future of literature and please forgive me for this run-on sentence); I have an inner nerddess who corrects grammar mistakes (in my mind) as people speak.  When someone asks a question, a voice in my head answers with a quote from a book or movie.  I am a geek through and through.  My son inherited my geek gene, too.  Without a doubt.

This is how far my nerd factor extends:  When I’m reading someone’s blog and they have pictures posted, I check out their living space.  Namely, their bookshelves.  That’s right.  I don’t give a hoot that their entire living room is cluttered with magazines, lost socks, and baby toys.  I want to see who lives on their shelves.  I want to see with whom they spend their time after the kids are tucked into bed and they’ve poured a glass of wine or brewed some spiced chai tea.  If I see shelves with stacks of books that I love, I’m instantly drawn to them.  Even if I don’t see books I love, I appreciate the fact that they read.

Pictures like this.  (Who’s back there on those shelves?  Hey- that’s a MCM style credenza and china cabinet.  She likes blue.  Why does she have an children’s owl picture hanging there? [To cover the fuse box.  Plus, Maya likes it.] I can’t read the titles of the books.  I wonder if when I click on the picture I can see the books a bit better…)  Yes.  I have very strange snooping issues.  I always return to the books.

I once saw a bookshelf that appeared (reference and literature-wise) very similar to mine.  I actually pointed and said, “Hey, I have those books!”  I looked around for someone to tell.  This cool chick had all these awesome books and I—me, the nerddess—had the same collection.

Fortunately, no one was around to hear me.

Speaking of no one around to hear, I left my MC screaming at a lake.  Must go…

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10 thoughts on “Exposing My Inner Nerddess

  1. My house is a small library that has broad categories in different rooms. From where I sit in this one room I can see 4 large bookshelves (crammed) and 5 shorter and narrower shelves (also crammed). There are more-8, I think, of varying sizes. I could be off a bit on that. Then someone sent us BOXES more and I am struggling with logistics. How can one eliminate such excellent resources?

    So what do we have? Over 90% are non-fiction: science, DIY, photographic, inspirational, educational, biographical, reference, philosophical, art & crafts, autobiographical, historical, biblical reference, and so on, but the few fiction books I own are those that I consider to be “must have”s.”

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      1. Passionately. The physical touch and smell of the paper and ink cannot be duplicated in an ebook. Also, real books can be resold, loaned out or passed onto other people or just plain given away because you actually own IT, not just the “rights” to read it. When I find a book valuable (not just entertaining), I want a physical copy.

        I have in my hands an embossed, gold decorated, hardbound history book, copyright 1895, with the facing pages patterned, and many full-page wood-cut images. Wow…I’m addicted.

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      2. I absolutely agree. When I happen upon an old book, I always wonder who held it before me and before them. Where did the book travel? I touch it, smell it. I once found a pressed daisy in well-loved Jane Austen novel. It’s possible that I loved that moment more than the book itself.

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  2. BTW, this post resonated on so many levels – Trekkie, LOVE “older, bald, badass men,” but I never realized I was a geek until much later in life. Go figure. No one in high school would have ever characterized me that way. 😉

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  3. Thank you so much for the like on my post the other day.I’m still very new at this, and have no idea how it all works, or I would have responded much earlier. Both my wife and I sell books in one form or another, so our house is filled with them. We have to sort through them every year or so and get rid of half of them. It’s always a tragedy to lose your books, but if we kept them all family services would eventually take away our children because of the risk of their being buried by a falling pile. As it is, we can no longer switch off the lights in our lounge without twisting ourselves behind a growing tower of books.

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  4. Pingback: I Am Single As F*ck. | michelle stodden

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