The cost of Nerdiness

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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.
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Some pictures and a video of Jackson moving around.

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Jackson rolling over 

Just for you, Cantante

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My amazing, sweet and smart best friend who,  my mother recently said “is a very important lady” pointed out that she has far more common sense than me, as well as better time management skills because she does not have a Facebook. But she still wants to see all my gagillion (is that a word? No, it most certainly is not) pictures of the baby.

What?  You didn’t know I had a baby?

I had a baby. So because I am writing this with an eye on the baby swing in the corner because he will be waking up soon, I will pot as many pictures as possible and I’m fairly sure that is the extent of my blogging for a while.

Also Yahoo is totally screwing with me and won’t let me log on to flickr anymore. I blame pirates. But not the one eyed octopus pirates, because they are awesome.

Wearing thin

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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 lost my heart to you years ago

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Nine years ago Rusty and I drove back from a party out in the woods, (Next to a lake, cases of Coors Light and sitting on the back of a pickup truck. Basically every party where I grew up) I was the designated driver who lost a contact in the woods and drove the thirty miles back, one eyed.

Despite my partial blindness I felt the need to fulfill my womanly duty to ask where our relationship was going. Rusty and I discussed how we felt and decided that we were indeed embarking on a serious relationship. Cut the story some slack here, we were in high school and that is how relationships are formed in high school.

NIne years ago today we became officially a couple and through those years we have lived in different states, bought  a house, got married, went to Greece, fought about bills and dishes, laughed about dog farts and clumsy feet. We’ve lost family and friends. After years of trying finally got pregnant and are embarking on out newest adventure yet. I don’t regret one moment of these nine years I’ve spent with him.

Day Deux

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This post is brought to you by Mason Jennings and a video you have to go to youtube to watch. fail.

Originally I was going to post a picture of Rusty. Because, of course he would know me the most. But then I realized that wasn’t the question. I told you I was bad at following directions. So I have to go with a tie or as my mother calls it “being equal”. My Momma Mia and Toby Tyler.

Day 2 – A picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest