Are nerds born or made?

Are nerds born or made? I guess the larger question is: Is anyone/thing born or made? But at the moment I’m wondering how the classic debate of nature vs. nurture applies to people who enjoy fringe interests. Nowadays, the definition of a fringe interest is getting more specific and things that were considered geeky in my childhood have since become fairly conventional. Back in the day, reading or watching fantasy stories was dorky but now Game of Thrones is a completely mainstream TV show. Same with science-fiction. I definitely felt like I was on the outside of what was “normal” back in the 80s and 90s for my devotion to Star Trek, but today it’s not really that big of a deal. There are plenty of sci-fi properties that have achieved mainstream success, such as Westworld. Some might argue that these once off-the-beaten-path interests have been sanitized for the masses and aren’t really what they once were. The reboot of Star Trek is really just a bunch of action movies, while the source material was much more cerebral but I digress.

I want to know if I became obsessed with sci-fi (and Star Trek more specifically), because I was an introverted, shy, awkward kid, or am I a bit of a weirdo because I took to Trek? Do the unathletic kids start playing Dungeons & Dragons because they get picked last for dodgeball or do they stay indoors and thus avoid exercise because they are so into role-playing games? Perhaps a bit of both.

I was a somewhat sickly child, and I’m naturally clumsy so I always preferred indoor activities… wait, no, this isn’t true. Now that I’m really thinking about it, I did a lot of playing outside when I was young. I always disliked disgusting things, like climbing trees, or difficult things, like climbing trees but I did plenty of swimming and bike riding and running around and building snow forts, like any regular kid. I also did a lot of drawing and playing other indoor games, but it’s only when I became a teenager and started to retreat from the world that my activities became predominantly sedentary.

And yet my interest in sci-fi and fantasy came about way before that. Star Trek: The Next Generation premiered in 1987 when I was eleven years old and I was instantly hooked. But I was already very fond of my Princess Leia action figures and was wild about movies like the Dark Crystal. Then again, what kid didn’t like The Dark Crystal and Star Wars? Now that I think about it, Star Trek debuted at pretty much the same time my best friend moved away. I had a couple of other friends but none I felt a strong connection with. As an introvert with social anxiety, it’s always been very difficult for me to interact with others. When the friend I’d known since we were toddlers left, this might have pushed me further into my own world. TNG came along at the exact right time to fill the void left by my friend. Would I have become equally enamored of Data and Deanna if my best friend hadn’t disappeared?

I’d like to think so. After all, my friend didn’t completely disappear. Though she’d changed schools, I could still see her on weekends, as she’d only moved to the next suburb over. So surely I was born a little on the geeky side and her presence in my life was irrelevant. And yet… I’m trying to remember what appealed to me as a child, and how much of it was innate, and how much was influenced by external factors, such as my mother. I remember once in kindergarten, my teacher making some sort of comment about the way I dressed. I didn’t understand the comment and asked my mother about it when I got home. She explained that my teacher was teasing me for always wearing very elaborate, girly dresses. I remained confused because I wasn’t dressing myself, my mother was dressing me, so surely it was invalid to mock me for these sartorial choices. I liked those dresses just fine, but I wasn’t choosing them. But what would I have worn if I could have chosen for myself? The same things perhaps. Maybe I’m wrong to blame those dresses on my mother. My wardrobe has changed much over the years, and I was quite dedicated to grunge in the ’90s, but today my closet looks like the Zooey Deschanel starter pack.

soul-of-wednesday-addams

But is my interest in pretty dresses authentic, or a result of my mother’s programming? I don’t know. What’s more certain is that she influenced my literary tastes. As a kid I read things like Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, and Judy Blume’s oeuvre because those books were in the house. I never read fantasy or sci-fi as a kid, and still don’t, even though that’s my go-to when it comes to television. Is this because I associate books with my mother the librarian and therefore veer towards more classic choices, while I associate TV with no one other than myself, thereby making those choices more authentically?

not-nerdy-enough

I can’t be sure. I can’t even be sure that I really am a “nerd”. There is a meme currently going around that perfectly encapsulates this issue. People who aren’t geeky think of me as a geek. I distinctly remember a coworker once lamenting her own lackluster geekiness and wishing she could be as truly nerdy as me. I was struck by how odd that was as a comment, not only because it seemed strange to admire someone else’s inability to be normal, but also because I’m not really that nerdy. The truly hardcore nerds would likely deem me a poser. Really, other than watching shows set in alternate universes, what do I do that is truly unusual? In this day and age of the unconventional becoming conventional, do I even have the right to think of myself as out of the mainstream? Of course, no one should have to prove how “nerdy” they are. And it shouldn’t be a contest. Who cares how much someone likes a particular thing? It’s as though the hardcore nerds have absorbed mainstream society’s programming about how they are losers, and therefore, in order to win at something, anything, they shame others who aren’t as hardcore as them. If they can’t win at football, they’ll win at nerdiness.

I guess I suffer from this programming as well. I often criticize people or fiction for being pretentious and too try-hard but aren’t I myself, a try-hard when it comes to being “different”? Much of my self-identity, and self-worth, is built on the idea that I am not mainstream, that I am not plugged-in to social norms. That I am not that most dreaded of traits: Basic! But aren’t I? I do plenty of things that conform to modern society’s standards; I have a 9 to 5 job, I pay my taxes, I own property, I watch reality television, I shave my legs, I am in a stable, heterosexual, cisgendered relationship. And yet I don’t have kids and I’m not married. I tell myself I reject marriage because it is an institution built on the enslavement of women. But do I truly object to it this strongly, or am I just overcompensating to seem cool, if not to others, at least to myself?

I am forced to ask, what truly makes me different? And of those differences, which ones are charming quirks and which ones actually cause strife in my life? This is a topic worthy of further discussion, and I shall muse more at a future date. In the meantime, what do you think about my initial question, before I spiraled into my patented navel-gazing? Are nerds born or made?

October 10, 1991

Thursday – I know I haven’t written in a really long time but hey.

                                      Usually when there are really long gaps in my journaling it’s because I’m too happy to write. I tend to only journal when I’m upset or depressed. But I doubt happiness is the reason for this particular gap.

Well, I like BHS a lot more than St-T, but there are still problems. Where to begin… I’m not popular and I will probably never have a boyfriend.

                                  Self-pity: check.

I entered an art contest and am doing a painting entitled Self Discovery.

                                Oh god, that sounds pretentious. I don’t remember that painting and let’s all be grateful for that.

I tried to be on the newspaper at school, but I missed the major meeting because I went on an art field trip and couldn’t make it, so I don’t know.

                            Interesting that I colour the truth even when writing to myself. I vividly remember the reason I missed that newspaper meeting and it wasn’t because of the art field trip. There was in fact a trip, that I did in fact attend, but it ended in plenty of time for me to make it back to school. I took the bus back, but because I’d never ridden public transportation before I didn’t know you have to ring the bell to be let off. I just kept waiting for the bus to stop, which it never did, and went way, WAY past the required bus stop. Eventually I realized that I’d missed the stop but by then I was paralyzed by anxiety, and too shy to ask the bus driver for help. I figured not being part of the school paper was a fitting punishment for this failure at correctly living life.

I’m failing math. There are extra things after school on Thursdays but I couldn’t go because of the painting. Mr. Math Teacher asked me if I could get help during other classes, but I don’t want to fall behind those either. So he called my house and now my mom is pressing me to stay after school but I don’t want to spend more time at school than necessary! The thing is I probably would have stayed once the contest was over and I could spare the time but I’m too stubborn to do that because I don’t want mom or Mr. M to think they influenced me. I want to do well on my own, but I just don’t understand math… SIGH.

                      Bullshit. I think I was failing math simply because it required the least bit of effort. I’m sure I could have done fine if I’d just tried. My proof for this is that I’d managed to do well in the past. At that age almost all schoolwork came easily to me so if something was even slightly difficult I just didn’t bother. Laziness born of melancholy I imagine. 

One night I had a dream about the show Beverly Hills 90210 (it’s a show that is really popular, but we don’t get it here). I wanted to see that show so bad that I dreampt I saw it. In the dream I met Jason Priestley (the star of 90210) and we were going out and stuff. Now I am obsessed with him. In a weird way I think I love him. Not in a fan way, I don’t have a bunch of pictures of him all over, I don’t swoon over his face (in fact I keep forgetting what he looks like) but it’s just a feeling deep inside. All the interviews and stuff I read about him, I don’t like his personality (a smoker and stuff) but I guess you can’t control your feelings. I’m hoping that if I win the contest (300$ prize) I will have confidence and stuff and will forget about him.

                      Wow. Thankfully that particular infatuation didn’t last long. I have no recollection of ever being into Jason freaking Priestley! Ugh.

I guess everything leads down to that stupid contest. (I also failed a history test because of lack of study time).

                        Why was I so obsessed with this art contest? I can’t for the life of me remember a single thing about it. I have to assume I was lying to myself in these diary entries, trying to blame my failures on something concrete, rather than on my more nebulous inability to take personal responsibility.

Oh well, life sucks. I wish I were more independent. If things don’t get handed to me easy I guess I’ll have to die young.

                           Lol. That’s some refreshing self-awareness there. Good thing I eventually got my shit together. Now people sometimes criticize me for being TOO independent!

P.S. I love M&R class. Mr. Taffenden is the coolest teacher.

                          M&R stands for Education Morale et Religieuse, also known as EMR, also known as MRE (Moral and Religious Education). It’s the class non-religious kids took back in the day when the Christians were taking Christianity. Is that still a thing? 

P.P.S. I cut my hair.

                            It’s now long again. I have come full circle 😉

Get in shape gurl!

My boyfriend’s answer to everything is to work out more. Insomnia? Work out. Depression? Work out. Creative block? Work out. Lethargy? Work out. Boredom? Work out. Annoyed with your significant other? Work the fuck out. You know what though? He’s not wrong.

I’ve mused before about my apathy, wondering if it’s a lack of motivation or lack of energy. I’ve never been athletic and as a kid, I was embarrassed about my lack of coordination and decided I hated sports because I wasn’t good at them. I figured it was simply my lot in life to be a couch potato and never really questioned it.

badass-ninja-warrior

Now I know that sports can be fun if one is allowed to play at one’s own pace. I’ve also gotten over the assumption that sports must be competitive. I dislike competition because I find it detracts from the fun of games, and ultimately leads to anger and resentment. As an adult, I’ve discovered that there are plenty of cooperative versions of sports/physical games.

As I was nearing my thirties I began to take my health more seriously. As happens to us all, I found that my metabolism was not what it once was, and I started half-heartedly working out. First I worked out at home with the Wii fit, but that eventually got boring. Then I started going to a gym, but this was tough because as an introvert, having a lot of people around me can be annoying. It’s also difficult to work at your own pace when you keep having to stop to wait for bros to be done sweating all over the machines you want to use. Sometimes I’d go to the gym with friends and I found this to be entirely counterproductive. Working out with friends is really just half-assing a physical activity while gossiping about life. Unsurprisingly, I need to be alone to work out. As I was approaching my forties I got to the point where I was financially capable of buying a property big enough to accommodate a home gym, and this space has been a revelation. I use FitnessBlender as my personal trainer and work at my own pace, doing the easy, or hard, versions of exercises depending on my energy levels at the time.

working-out

I don’t know if I can blame my anemia or my laziness, but unlike the promises of every exercise enthusiast, it doesn’t really get easier over time, or at least it hasn’t for me. I haven’t seen any improvements in my strength, flexibility, or agility, but that’s ok because I’m not trying to be Ronda Rousey, I’m just trying to be me. I work out for my health, and I don’t just mean the physical.

About a year ago I started taking walks during my lunch hours. I’ve found that this not only helps me stay in shape, it’s invaluable in terms of maintaining my sanity. I have no idea how I managed my stress before I implemented this ritual into my routine. My office recently moved into an upscale suburban neighbourhood, and while I miss the convenience of being downtown, and close to the underground city, which was great for continuing my walks even in harsh weather, I really appreciate the slightly more rural environment. It’s nice to be surrounded by trees and impressive architecture. It helps to clear my head and reinvigorate my creative juices (studies have shown a link between walking and creativity), and my ability to tolerate interaction with human beings for another four hours before I get to go home.

And when I do get home I work out some more. Usually, after a long day of sitting on my ass at the office, I’m too tired to work out, but I force myself to do it anyway because I know once I get going I’ll get an endorphin rush and enjoy it. Working out is like taking a bath when you’re a kid. You try to avoid it at all costs but once you’re in the water you never want to get out. Ok, maybe working out isn’t always like that. Sometimes I’m in agony, counting down the seconds until my virtual trainers announce workout complete, but other times working out is simultaneously fun, relaxing, and energizing.

I’ve also gotten into hiking recently, which is surprising to anyone who knows me because I’m stereotyped as hating nature but it turns out that all that advice about getting out in nature to de-stress is fairly accurate. It’s very calming to be in the woods, and even though I need to go through an entire box of tissues during any given hike, it’s worth it for the way I feel afterward. I’m not one to use the term “spiritual”, because I believe it’s just a froo-froo way of saying “mentally fortifying”, but for all the hippies out there, yes, communing with nature is a spiritual experience. Even more so in the winter, for a snow enthusiast such as myself. I can think of nothing more beautiful than the twisted branches of a leafless tree covered in snow.

nature-hates-me

In the end, my boyfriend is right about exercise. It pretty much is a cure-all. Recently my father’s doctor told him that his health wasn’t doing so great and since he was already eating his prescribed diet the only thing left to do was to exercise. I work in a healthcare-related field so I know that most people will try literally anything before turning to exercise. So I was proud of my dad when he actually started working out and managed to successfully improve his health. A lot of people complain that they don’t have enough time to work out, but I would encourage them to make the time. You don’t need to be a professional athlete to reap the benefits of exercise, and it doesn’t take much. Just a half-hour a day is enough. I know it can be difficult to find the motivation, especially if you suffer from depression. But by integrating regular workouts into your routine, your bouts of depression may be less frequent and less severe. But don’t take my word for it! The science bears this out. I don’t really have any advice on how you can get yourself out of bed and on a walk when you’re depressed, but maybe you can ask a trusted friend to literally drag you out. A depression buddy, if you will.

Exercise is also good for anxiety. I got nervous recently when my boyfriend suggested some friends join us on a hike because I jumped to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with a normal person’s pace, but that’s probably a hang-up of mine rather than a real problem. And the best way to overcome that fear is to go on said hike.

20-years-ago

As long as I’m having fun it doesn’t matter if I’m keeping up with the Joneses. In spite of all my progress over the years, I’m still not athletic but as we age we realize that our lives don’t exist for the entertainment of others. When I first tried yoga nearly twenty years ago I was nervous about doing the poses wrong and felt embarrassed about my incompetence. Now I know that no one is looking at me because they’re all too worried about their own form. And even if they are looking at me, who cares? I’m doing it for me, not them.