Before we delve into this week's
post, I wanted to give major kudos to the voters of Maine, who brushed aside a
torrent of anti-gamer rhetoric and elected the first Orcish-American to their state senate on Tuesday. That, I promise, will be the extent of any political
content on the blog.
So, to date we've discussed a handful of the somewhat thorny, occasionally misunderstood aspects of what
makes up nerd life for many of us. These sorts of beliefs and behaviors not
only color how we interact with one another, but are also often the basis for
how we, as a subculture, are regarded by everyone else. What's interesting, if
not actually surprising, is that the majority of both our communal self-regard
and the opinions of those peering in from the outside are rooted in the same
assumption: that we've all been geeks pretty much since birth.
Any number of nerd-based media,
personal conversations with other geeks, and marketing tactics used to target
and portray our subculture would have you believe that this is uniformly the
case. Though we've begun to move away from the stereotype of the bespectacled,
acne-ridden, painfully awkward
individual encased in a full-headset retainer, a collective of new archetypes
have risen to supplant it. These range from the overweight, basement dwelling
troglodyte who aggressively trolls internet forums or the chat feeds of any
given MMORPG/MOBA to an older version of that socially inept teenager
(typically sans retainer and perhaps with better skin) now obsessing over
Faster Than Light and rigorously dissecting the possibilities wrought by
Disney's purchase of LucasFilm. You, as a geek, are assumed to fall somewhere
in that spectrum.
We can roll our eyes and shake
our heads, taking stock that, though there's some truth in those stereotypes,
we know that we're more than a collective of self-possessed individuals who
refuse to grow up. Furthermore, as we've discussed, it's extremely difficult to even put a definitive definition to 'nerd' or 'geek'. However, despite being fully cognizant of this, we then expect
that everyone who self-identifies as a nerd/geek will likely possess a certain
body of knowledge and said information often came at a high social cost during
our formative years. These two elements are generally regarded as the
foundation for your nerdy credentials. Hell, the construction of this base of
learning is Nerd Commandment #1 according to Topless Robot founder Rob Bricken
(who I wish all the best as he heads over to write for i09). But what if your
geeky development didn't follow such a nice linear path? What if your parents
didn't let you have comic books or gaming didn't appeal to you until undergrad?
Or what if you partook of some things, but didn't have the opportunity to fully
immerse yourself in that book series/game franchise/anime run?
The majority of these "late
bloomers" possess a number of nerdy qualities but, due to any number of
reasons, were not exposed to one or more of the major geeky arenas: gaming,
fantasy/science fiction, anime, comic books, or the hard sciences during their
formative years. Not gonna lie here guys; I was one of these. Though my youth was
spent enthralled in fantasy/science fiction and the hard sciences, I didn't
have the chance to experience comic books until I was nearly done with high
school and didn't roll in my first RPG until nearly two years after I'd
graduated university. Things like studying and working had an obnoxious
tendency to encroach on the fun times (and still do <shakes fist>) and I
found myself in my early-to-mid twenties wrestling with the absurd notion that
I was hopelessly "behind" on nerdery as a whole.
Must. Know. All..the things. |
That sensation may seem downright
silly to some of us, especially since we've already established the enormous
diversity that gets covered by the proverbial geeky umbrella, but it's not
entirely without merit. Though we like to think of ourselves as a highly
tolerant and welcoming collective, let's be real; sometimes we can be everything but. Our penchants for raging and territoriality don't scream
"this is a welcome environment for self-expression" or "the
learning curve is shallow and easily surmounted." This is especially so
right now, in the midst of the Nerdaissance, when the introduction of so many
beloved properties to mainstream audiences has made authenticity a rare and dicey thing. Trying to introduce yourself to something like the Song of Ice and Fire series now that HBO
has made it a household name is likely to be met with something between skepticism
and straight dismissal. Unless you actually take the time to read all five
books currently in print, your love of the property is probably going to garner
some distain.
The nerdy knowledge base is the
proving ground. Your credibility as a geek stems entirely from your ability to
recall from and continually add to that foundation. Ideally, you'll become
"tapped in" to one or more of the major arenas to the point at which
you can help keep your friends abreast of developments within that discipline.
Given this, it's a little more
understandable that someone might not endeavor to fill the "gaps" in
their nerdy repertoire or, for that matter, attempt to join the community.
These misgivings are entirely needless and the conditions that foster such can
be easily amended.
First off, Eleanor Roosevelt was
spot-on when she stated that no one can make you feel inferior without your
consent. Just because someone else has read all of Tolkien's works, or watched
each episode of every incarnation of Star Trek, or has logged 151 hours on XCOM
doesn't mean that they are a more legitimate geek than you. As competitive as
we nerds sometimes are, being geeky in itself is NOT a contest. Seriously. We cannot utilize the basis of our authentic selves as the propellant for participation in some neurological track meet. With few
exceptions, the vast majority of us cannot be wholly nerdy 100% of our daily
lives. Finding your own Nerd-Life Ratio is key to getting comfy with your own
knowledge base and recognizing this Ratio in others can go a long way to
helping us relate to one another.
That being said, the best way to
delve into/renew your connection with geeky arenas is to enlist one or more
friends who are highly familiar with the subject matter to act as an ambassador
and guide for you. If none of the people in your immediate social circle can
fill this role, then seek out friends of friends or even supportive online
communities (yes, they actually do exist). Be honest and forthright about A)
your limited experience with [insert nerd forte here] and B) your genuine curiosity/willingness
to learn. Coming straight out and saying how much you'd like to get into a
given avocation goes a long way in smoothing relations, as you'll assume the
mantle of a geeky apprentice rather than the hated visage of the wayward poser.
Like any other hobby, this will be an investment of time and effort. Ideally, this process can turn into an exchange of skills or ideas rather than a unilateral outpouring of information.
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