The cost of Nerdiness

Standard

Recently I was speaking to a friend of mine about houses, boring talk. About mortgages and equity and principle. All things that I mix up and I don’t have the brains to figure out today. But we got on the subject of dream houses, (architecture is far cooler than equity, let’s be honest). The friend confided that he always wanted a hobbit house. (is hobbit capitalized? The word human isn’t so I’m going to say no.) After telling me this he said “Sorry, I’m a nerd I like that sort of nerdy stuff. Dungeons and dragons and war games and LOTR. and stuff.”

I told him he had nothing to worry about, but it got me thinking.

I have another friend who does this frequently as well. My friend can be energetic to say the least. But she’s hilarious. A little spazzy at times, but great. I’m so low-key sometimes I don’t register. I suspect that it’s all waiting inside me to bubble over someday, because that sounds far cooler than the idea that I’m just a bit boring. But I digress. My friend will bust into a rant about something, it doesn’t really matter what. She is so excited about what she’s talking about, her hands all over the place, her words blending together. And I love it. It’s a vitality that she brings to all conversations. It’s not a vitality I can bring. But at the end she’ll say, “Sorry, I’m a dork.”

No. This will not stand. Some of my favorite things in the world are nerd things. The idea of a nerd, or dork interests to me, means that you are passionate about the world around you, that these fervent interests have a place in your life. And I think that is wonderful.

It’s no surprise to anyone at all my love for reading. If I could read all day I would. I read everything in front of me. I have three reading applications on my phone. I have physically worn out the scan strip on my library card. I have an entire pinterest board dedicated to quotes about reading and books. (As of now I have over 100 quotes.) I love reading. And that absolutely makes me a nerd. But I love that about myself. I love the energy I feel when I’m in the middle of a great book, I love talking about books with people. I love dissecting characters, the symbolism of a white dress or the motivation behind a betrayal. I love following my favorite writers and hearing their opinions about everything. To me, they are my celebrities. I’d rather hear about Anne Rice’s thoughts on what is going on in women’s reproductive rights than what Kim Kardashian’s baby shower looked like. Sherman’s Alexie on his book being banned in school to what Taylor Swift and her new boyfriend ate at The Ivy.

Don’t misunderstand me, there’s nothing wrong with having these interests. We should embrace the very things that keep us whole. We should never apologize for loving something. I love reading because of the impact that it has on me. But your interests can be anything.

I feel like I should disclaimer this with the fact that while I have read some classics, I have read some intellectual books, that doesn’t mean that’s what I read. I started blogging to talk about Twilight. I read YA, like it’s going to be burned. I devour sappy romance novels in one sitting. Most of my reading is fluff. But I love it. If you looked at my Goodreads you’d find mostly fanciful books. There isn’t much that is thought provoking. but I love it. and I will continue to love it. I refuse to apologize for what I love and neither should you.

There is a great John Green quote about nerds that i want to leave with.
8453df2b0247b3388fe6eb261549e8c3

Advertisements

Act like you’re good at it

Standard

Copernicus cooling off in the Northwest heat wave

Tonight did not disappoint. A reading filled with win that only references of Wil Wheaton, Pegasuses (pegasi?), Six hour marathons of the Tenth Doctor, and Neil Gaiman could accomplish. After two lorazepams, an hour waiting in line after a tearful (on my part) story,  I finally got to meet my idol Jennifer Lawson.

I bumbled my way through introductions and made a half way coherent attempt at a sentence. (To be recreated later.)

Best part, I got to hug her. I have been hugged by The Bloggess. Or strangled, because as we all know, A HUG IS LIKE A STRANGLE YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED YET!

I’m probably not as cuddly as Copernicus

One of the scariest and most exhilarating moments I’ve ever had.

There have been several times that I have wanted to get out there and meet these people who have inspired me. So many should have’s, tucked away to haunt me. But not this time. I got my signature and I got my hug and for one moment I got the attention of a person I hope to be like.

I couldn’t contain my excitement upon meeting her!

Wearing thin

Standard

As I’m nearing the end of my pregnancy right now there are things that are really starting to annoy me.

  • New Age Phrases like sacred space, mothering heart*, love language, affirmations. Basically this entire post which is all too much for me to handle right now. (Anything that is described as “Spiritual Wellness” makes me nauseous).
  • Any reference to how tired, sick, big and “done” I look. I don’t know how exactly you think your comments are going to help me get through a 40 hour work week, when all I want to do is stay at home and watch a marathon of Daria on LOGO.
  •  Your birth story. Unless I specifically ask you, I do not need to hear how you threw up on the doctor, the epidural only worked on one side or didn’t work at all, you pushed for three weeks and pooped on the table.
  • My cankles.
  • That damn scale at the doctor and the fact that I was just boasting to a friend how I hadn’t gained that much weight a few weeks ago.
  • My good friend who is tan, slim and has long shiny hair she obviously has enough energy to wash and style every morning. I’ll love you again in a few weeks I’m sure.
  • Opinions on circumcision, organic baby food, breast-feeding, natural child-birth and caffeine. I’m not smoking crack while riding down the highway on a street bike with no helmet so I think my choices are safe enough.

I’m not all doom and gloom though. In a concentrated effort  to be more positive here are things I still love. And I’ll try not to have them all be food related.

  • My husband cooking dinner all the time for me.
  • Lying in bed at night while Rusty and I feel for JD kicking around.
  • Mini blizzards from DQ.
  • That blessed coworker who still tells me. “You don’t even look pregnant until you turn around.” And I really don’t care if she is lying.
  • My Mom, who doesn’t laugh at my breastfeeding questions.
  • My hair which actually looks pretty good right now despite not styling it for months.
  • yoga prenatal tea and my hot tub turned down to 96 degrees.
  • pancakes.
  • weekends.
  • My dog, just look at her!

I'm sappy so I think this is just scruffy mangy adorableness.

*I heard the phrase mothering heart when I was trying to get pregnant. A psychic told me I would get pregnant only when I opened up my mother heart and let in the positivity. She also told me I would have a rough winter which lead me to freak out and become convinced that I was going to miscarry. I mentioned it to the owner of the New Age store and she gave me a rose quartz for “healing”. I shit you not.

I’m 37 weeks and that’s all I can say

Standard

I could offer excuses on why I haven’t updated  but that seem to be all that this blog is about lately. (That and a failed 31 day picture challenge.) So instead I’m going to offer some pictures of my belly and I, as well as some funny links because although I don’t often have the energy to write, I do have the energy to surf the internet looking for funny things. That and playing treasure madness on Facebook.

Toby Tyler, Grandma Shirley, Megnacarta, Momma Mia

At my baby shower with my Texas big curls.

That quilt is the backdrop for half my family's pictures. That or a large bush in the front yard.

I think you look rude

I’m a Crepe

Love this website-Tesla

I imagine this is how my younger brother will get his dream job.

Later that day I got an awful peeling sunburn only on my right shoulder.

I’m not going to be that brat

Standard

All my life I have felt as if I didn’t quite belong to a certain category. I didn’t fit right in any particular clique in high school or college. I’m too prim to be a party girl but too inhibited to be a straight laced woman. All the while my friends were carving out these specific identities I was just me. I realize now that is how every teenager feels. No one fits in to a certain mold, no one is completely one sided. Every single person in the world is varying shades of neurotic. As my literary soul sister once said;“The whole world was crazy; I’d flattered myself by assuming I was a semifinalist .”

When I got married I felt like I could finally join a club that I belonged to. Sure I was young, but I graduated before I got married, I had a good job and we have a house we own.  I was a married woman and I couldn’t wait to join that exclusive club. The Mommy Club. I had a job once where we would have to pray before every staff meeting. Around mothers day the office manager/wife of the doctor passed out a prayer. She gave it to everyone else but me and simply said,” Sorry, this is for mothers.”

So needless to say, I was ready to join that club. instead I got infertility. Now at this point some people may say,” but Megnacarta, you’re young. You had plenty of time to get pregnant. What does it matter if it took three month or three years?”

My response?

Try it.

Infertility suck. It starts with the worry that it may take longer than you had thought, that maybe there is something wrong with your lady bits. Then maybe there is something wrong with your thinking, (side note, F-U The Secret) Then is there something wrong with you as a woman and a wife. As A person, who are you if you cannot have children. Sound crazy? Yes, I know.

But I get it. For three years I got it.  So this is my letter to those girls out there I vow not to be one of those pregnant woman that women with infertility hate. Because I’ve been there.

I’m going to pass on advice  friend who was going through infertility told me. After trying for five years she finally had a beautiful healthy daughter. As I was looking down into the car seat she shared this with me, “It’s worth it.”

Not, don’t stress out or it will happen eventually or any other banal advice that everyone wants to give you. Simply “It’s worth it.”

In that short sentence she validated every bad day I had ever had. She never tried to say that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was or that if I just stopped thinking about it, I would get pregnant.

I also want to pass on my advice for getting through that time. Don’t suppress it. Lord knows, I felt everything. But I think that is what worked for me. Allow yourself to have bad, don’t want to get out of bed because you might punch that girl who is pregnant yet again, days. The pain you feel is real and don’t allow anyone to tell you otherwise.

Don’t compare yourself to others, whether it be that woman who has no trouble getting pregnant or that annoying woman who said her husband cried when they would get a false pregnancy test. husbands who are that sensitive rarely exist outside a Nicolas Sparks novel and in the end someone will die a horrible death in one of the Carolina’s.

Because in the end, I have faith that it would have all been worth it.

Day Trois

Standard

This post is brought to you by Joseph Arthur and the pilot episode.

I had a very hard time with this one. There are so many to choose from and I watch a lot of TV. Should I go with an obscure show to prove how edgy I am? Should I post something immature and superficial in an attempt to be ironic? Should I post something from years ago to make me seem nostalgic? A very difficult decision indeed.

So I’ll just post this and let you come up with your own theories.

Day 3 – A picture of the cast from your favorite show.

I really tried to think of something more…substantial maybe? But I stared at the google image box and my brain just kept saying, The OC…The OC.  And who am I to disagree? This show is loved by every member in my family and my Catholic mother has mentioned she thought about becoming Jewish because of this show. I don’t think she was serious though.

And because she is often left out, but is basically the only reason the fourth season is my favorite. Here is my favorite character.

 

 Plus she was in American Mall which is wickedly bad, so needless to say,  it’s a great sick day movie.

Breaking Down and Breaking Up Before Breaking Dawn

Standard

This post is brought to you by Paul Simon.

 

I have reached a sad but necessary conclusion recently. After years of being completely faithful in my love, I have to end it today. Yes, Twilight I am breaking up with Twilight. I’m not saying that I won’t have an occasional tryst on those long lonely nights. I may come crawling back to it around November. But for now I just can’t do it. This relationship has gone too far and it is no longer fun.

As much as I love Twilight it needs to end, if only to stop receiving the awful merchandise. I really didn’t need all these shirts with Rob’s face on them. I’m not fourteen and if I was it would have been JTT all the way.

These carefree days are gone.

I am tired of people telling me every twilight reference they observe.

Hey Megan, I saw vampire fangs and thought of you!”

Super for you, but I don’t need to know that you are going to Forks or if you saw a new Twilight magazine out or be asked about the next movie. I do love this saga but I am tired of people thinking that is all there is to me.

There was a point when people knew more about me than the fact that I like Twilight. I actually read quite a bit and although I love the saga, I am not all that impressed with S.M. writing. It’s easy, it’s fun, but it’s not amazing.

I started reading the books when we were trying to get pregnant. The story of a clumsy girl and her perfect vampire were a great escape. Because that is what these stories are, an escape from the real world. They are not my whole world. When your adult problems seem to overwhelm you, it can be nice to travel back to a time when your biggest worries were whether a boy liked you and wanted to hold your hand. (Cause, really there wasn’t much else in the first three books.)

You don’t have to analyze the emotions because Bella is every teenage girl. That is the appeal. And I’m not saying that I don’t still harbor a crush on Rob, because I absolutely do. It’s just that the saga as whole doesn’t hold the same spark.  So as much as I loved it once I have to say  goodbye. Please don’t try to offer me shirts or boxed candy (Fire and Ice) I will go on with my life and look back at these moments with fondness.

But I’m taking this love underground.