Now that I'm living back in the Pacific Northwest, I see a lot of man-made differences from when I lived in Ohio.  Fewer billboards, for example.  More boats, less guns.  I'm back in the land where every restaurant serves some kind of seafood chowder.  And - probably because of the tech population - I'm seeing a lot of Teslas.

When I get mine someday, it's going to be Tardis blue.

      How many qualifies as "a lot?"  I estimate I drive past about 5 a week.  And each time I turn into some bizarre variation of an early-20's dude-bro in the presence of an attractive woman, ogling the curves and trying to catch the driver's eye just so I can give an eloquent nod of "Wassup?"  I'm really not that much of a car person.  I am one of the patient who has learned to make appreciative noises when other people speak about cars so as not to seem rude, all the while letting my mind rove to more interesting topics, such as making blueberry pie.*  But I admit, when the Model S came out, I was sucked in.  So elegant.  So logical.  So quiet!  For the first time, I understood what people meant when they referred to a car as "sexy."
      Whenever I pass one on the road, a smile appears on my face.  So last week I thought, "Huh.  I should take this a step further!  I'm going to start putting $10 in a jar every time I drive past a Tesla.  It'll be the start of my own Tesla fund!"**  The idea put an even bigger smile on my face.
      Then I read this week's PostSecret, and this particular card caught my eye:
      Now, I've decided to start putting $10 in a jar every time I pass a Tesla on the road, and donate it to charity at the end of the month.  So this is your opportunity to put in a plug for your favorite charities, Dear Readers.  Let's make the air cleaner, to roads sexier, and the human race happier, all at the same time.


*April 28th is National Blueberry Pie Day, folks!

**Reality check: 5 cars a week x $10 means about 96 years before I could afford pay the $50k for a Tesla Model S.  So no, this was not going to be my ONLY means of saving!

      I'm not dead or comatose, I'm just not thinking of anything interesting to write.

A death ray would be an interesting excuse for not blogging, but I'm afraid I'm not that cool. Yet.

      Actually, I think I'm not thinking of anything interesting to write because I'm not allowing myself the time to think of anything interesting to write.  I've been in a situation of almost constant social obligation for the last three weeks, which means my brain hasn't had the down time that lends itself to story arcs, character development, and the glorious free association that turns into tales.  Why almost constant social obligation?  Because I'm living with family - who I love and enjoy spending time with - for a couple months until my apartment is available to move-in. Makes for great conversation, and really, really terrible creative production.
      All of a sudden, I'm feeling a very strong desire to read Virginia Woolf's "A Room of One's Own."
      Anyways, here's a video that shows the new polar bear cub at the Columbus Zoo during it's first three months of life.  More importantly, it shows small glimpses of the veterinarian who gets to feed, pet, and play with this polar bear cub, who - and I am not exaggerating in the least when I say this - is literally the luckiest human being alive on the planet.
      Also, if you missed it, yesterday was National Eggs Benedict Day. Mark your calendar for next year.

      April 1st is National Soylent Green Day!
      I cracked up when I read that listed on one of my Food Holiday websites the other day.  But when I told some of my co-workers, they looked at me with blank expressions.  And of course since I had to explain it, it wasn't funny at all, and if anything they thought I was even more weird.

The movie is supposed to take place in 2022.  Go ahead and give it a viewing--the parts they got right will get you thinking.

         
 
      Why would I know about a mediocre Charlton Heston sci-fi film from 1973?  Because that's the sort of crowd in which I move: the nerdy kind. The same people who know the origin of "All your base are belong to us," and can sing all the lyrics to one or more of the songs from "Labyrinth."*  The social reinforcement for this kind of behavior has been frequent and life-long.  I was making a presentation to some high school students the other day, and at the end I asked if anybody had any questions.  One kid raised his hand and asked, "What's the answer to life, the universe, and everything?"
     "Forty-two," I replied without missing a beat.  About 85% of the kids looked confused.  To the 15% who looked impressed, I added, "Don't question my Geek Cred."
      But today, as I pointedly avoid eating anything evenly vaguely green or cracker-ish, I find myself wondering what exactly that means.  Geek cred.  What does qualify one as true geek?  We used to be easy to identify: back in the 80's most people thought video games were stupid, and any affection for fantasy fiction labeled one a social pariah.  Today, people can barely to keep from trampling one another to purchase the latest gaming console.  And it's hard to find people who don't watch "Star Wars."  Slowly, as interest and artistry has refined the industries, the audience has grown.
       In today's conversations, the words "geek" and "nerd" get thrown about without any negativity.  You hear people say things like, "I'm a fashion nerd," or "I'm really into music geeks."  To those who associate the central nouns with being stuffed into lockers, the addition of such mundane specifiers is dumbfounding.  Of course, the bullying has gone down, so most of us aren't complaining.  But it does beg a re-examination of the identity claim.
      It seems to me that an accurate contemporary use the words refers to an individual's intensity of interest in a topic, coupled with a fearlessness in it's demonstration.  For example: it's one thing for an NFL player in designer threads to be in a chic club talking about the upcoming season of "Game of Thrones."  It's another for an ordinary, middle-aged guy to be at the same location wearing a T-shirt with an 80's-like design of a big dragon.

When I see somebody wearing a shirt like this, I want to invite them to my D&D game.

      And that is what I really love: the fearlessness.  Whether it's old movies or anime, music or computer programming, people who take such joy that they don't care what people think, they want to share what they know with the world.  Those are the kind of people I'm drawn to--and if they are willing to hang out and watch "The Dark Crystal," all the better.

P.S. - if my husband is reading this, you can totally get me this T-shirt for my birthday.  Totally.

*Whether they can sing it in key is another matter entirely.