I said this somewhere pretty "normal" the other day and the person I said it to not only "got it", but they laughed as well. It struck me as just a little odd and made me wonder- has being a geek transcended our culture that much?
Is this a sarcastic remark or a social commentary on the state of gaming-indoctrinatedness our culture has become?
Will Wheaton and George Takei (and to some extent, William Shatner) have brought out a fairly popular and almost ubiquitous familiarity with that which is nerdy. (Check your Facebook and Twitter feeds- they are likely full of reposts/retweets of these guys' materials.)
Is this a good thing? Am I over estimating the impact of 'geek chic'?
Didn't Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World rock the theaters last year?
I'm having a hard time dismissing the fact that being a dork is not as bad as it used to be.
Ancillary to this thought is the "+1". While we do have Google+ and Facebook that have helped these ideas along, the premise of adding a level is pretty intrinsic to games and gamers. But I hear and see "+1" all over the place- even on 'normal' websites- career advice blogs, cooking blogs, and dating sites.
Geeks have even come into sitcoms. I mean, damn near everyone knows who Sheldon Cooper is, and Stan Lee is some sort of pop culture hero...
I don't know what happened, but somewhere along the line I stopped being so "out there" and became mainstream... or
I roll to disbelieve
Saturday, January 21, 2012
"I Roll to Disbelieve"
Labels:
commentary,
weird,
writing
Friday, January 20, 2012
[WOD] Austin by Night: The Other Shoe
[This is a completely unauthorized and unapproved vignette written solely for my amusement.]
It's that early part of the morning where the numbers on the clock blur together, things are still dark, and little moves outside of streetsweepers and police. The new house is quiet and all The Lost are in their beds, sleeping for the first time in a while. The dream wars have slowed down, and their rest is uninterrupted tonight.
A small stream of brilliant white light spills onto the floor from somewhere in the kitchen.
It's that early part of the morning where the numbers on the clock blur together, things are still dark, and little moves outside of streetsweepers and police. The new house is quiet and all The Lost are in their beds, sleeping for the first time in a while. The dream wars have slowed down, and their rest is uninterrupted tonight.
A small stream of brilliant white light spills onto the floor from somewhere in the kitchen.
The quiet, sleepy state of the house envelops all sound, muffling the very quiet footsteps coming across the floor to a noise just above a whisper. The steps move through the house, briefly visiting each room.
We see Alice, tucked in her canopy bed, with piles of stuffed animals surrounding her. Another room finds Waco, asleep in a hammock, with a pile of yard hounds underneath him. In another room, a small corner is stocked with art supplies, waiting for Avere to bring them to life through her creative process. Fizzlepop and his gang rest along the floorboards of the hallway, in various shapes and disguises; sock, dustbunny, soda bottle just to name a few.
The last room finds Terrance, sleeping upright in an old style La-Z boy recliner under antique football pennants. The room is stiflingly hot, the temperature almost oven-like.
The ever-so-quiet footsteps head further into the room, towards a darkened corner. The yet-unseen being makes its way to the small footlocker and opens it cautiously. Inside the case, there is a collection of items that used to belong to Eile. Several pairs of shoes, a small amount of clothing, minor personal items and general detritus from her short life are gathered in the box. The box is cloaked in shadows for a moment and there is a rustling, rummaging sound in the corner.
From the darkness, a hoarse voice, almost barking in tone, whispers into the night.
"You; sent to do another's bidding. You; named for a memory. You; protector of the weak. You; my only friend and family. You have found the things I wanted so much. I leave you a gift. Only you can understand what a great sacrifice it is for me to even give a gift; and this one is all the harder.
[The voice pauses for just a moment, contemplating in the night.]
The shadows open up and light spills across the open box in the corner.
"This is part of a pair. It's no good without its mate. Find the partner, and you'll have the key to finding me."
The figure steps into the twilight, revealing a soft, fawn colored pelt and a long tail with a flash of white at the tip.
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