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Battle of the Intellects

Among common American subcultures, there is a suttle debate raging: who are better, geeks or nerds?

It's an age old question, one that is difficult to answer mainly because the idea of what constitures a nerd and a geek various from person to person. Now, for our purposes, let us look at the literal meaning of each word.






We see here that the two words are esentually the same, the only difference being that geeks spend their time biting of chicken heads, where as nerds don't. Interesting, really.

The truth is that there really is no difference. Sure, it may vary from group to group, and some may choose to see the word as a compliment while other's take is as a curse, but when you get down to it the definition really doesn't matter. These days, you have very different kind of geeks; band geeks, anime geeks, comic book geeks, science geeks. However, what it all boils down to is that we're people who share similar interests.

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Holding Out

As an avid lover and reader of books, I always find one delema hovering before my eyes: pay too much for the handback, or wait for the paperback version to come out. I generally prefer to wait, at least in theory. I don't need the hardback version of most books, I'm usually...

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#5 Of So Many Pieces
By Rushifa


On a large scale, I've only moved once: 4 years ago when my family changed houses. With the start of college, however, life has become a bit more eventful. I've helped friends move, and undergone a move to and from the dorms. With each move, I undergo the same sense of insecurity. It's not about losing or breaking precious items, it's about a shift in perspective.

It's amazing that, no matter how hard we work or what we do, our life can be packed into just so many boxes, so many little pieces.

What I feel, staring out at countless brown boxes containing my cherished possessions and memories, is merely the tip of a bigger iceberg. The realization I face is not just about moving, but about growing up. We work all our young lives looking forward to the time when we will be "grown ups," but when we're faced with it in reality, it's a lot more frightening then one would think.

Living without parents is certainly a learning experience. I found myself missing the little things, like having someone to share a morning pot of tea with, or someone to make home-cooked meals, do the shopping, provide transportation. There are ups and downs, of course. A freedom comes with living in a dorm which can not be achieved at home. A freedom to stay up as late as I want, but the responsibility of being well rested for an early class.

I'm not yet an adult. I'm 19, barely started on my college career, and certainly not ready for all the responsibilities and definitions of adulthood. But I'm getting there, one box at a time.

Interesting.

I like your "The Geek in Everyone" article. I can relate to lots of what you said in it.

#7 We Must Be Crazy
By Rushifa

Well, another year of NanoWrimo has come and gone. It was a harolding month, but at least at the end you have something to show for it, whether you "won" or not.

For those who don't know, Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month, which takes place ever November. It's not quite as insane as it sounds, but it is pretty darn crazy. The idea is to a write a 50,000 manuscript in just 30 days. Granted, that's a short novel, more of a novella really, but it's still a significant amount of work.

The break down for the month goes as follows: to reach 50,00 words by the 30th, writing for the same amount each day, you have to produce 1,667 words a day. That's roughly 3 pages. Not all that crazy sounding, once it's broken down like that. Most people aim for 2,000 dairly in the first week, so they have a comfertable cusion to carry them through the rest of the month, but it varies from author to author.

I've participated in Nanowrimo two years, but neither time have I "won," which in nano-speak means you completed the goal, reading 50,000 words within the month. I always get to about 25,000 words, when life gets in the way. Last year, final projects hit me. This year it was much more literal, as one of my close friends was hit by a car (she's fine, only bruised). Then Thanksgiving always throws me for a loop, since I always manage to forget about my deadline while I'm home.

During the time I've spent on the NanoWrimo forums, I've noticed that there are 3 distrinct types of writers. First, their are the Over Achievers. These prolific writer's have an abundance of time, very past finger's, or the ability to go without sleep. Often all of the above. Within the first week, they sail past everyone else, meeting the deadline ahead of schedule, and leaving the rest of us trailing in their tail-wind.

Second, there are So-So-ers. These people, like myself, have great passion for their work, but just can't ride the run mile to get across the finish line. They have a good start, but are held back either by the plot, so-called "writer's block," or outside complications. However, these people are generally likely to try again next year, even more inspired to win.

Lastly, there are the Slow And Steadys. The keep to their dailyu goals, never going far ahead or dropping far behind, and are able to finish on time. They have perfected the balance between life and writing, and are able to successfully accomplish their goals.

Whichever category you fit into, give yourself a pat on the back for even considering taking on this crazy task. Congratulations, all of you. For everyone who didn't participate, I really recomend the experience. It's not a sure fire way to write a winning novel; in fact, the draft you have done at the end of the month will probably be pretty bad. But that's the point. Its all about proving to yourself that, yes, infact, you can write a book. Now, You can spend the rest of the year perfecting it, slowly and carefully. Like fine wine, it will just get better with time.

#9 Linking Books
By Rushifa

Anyone remember the original Myst game? In it, you were a wayward traveler trapped on a mysterious island, all alone. Your only hope for escape were through strange books which, when you opened them and placed your hand across their pages, transported you to equally mysterious, and empty, worlds, which you then worked your way through. It was a fun, and rather short, game, but it's real appeal was in how natural its concept was. Books by their simple nature are already portals to other worlds. They show us knew worlds, worlds we could never see except in our own heads. However, I have come across an even more powerful experience. Instead of showing me a different world, this book reflected my own.

My uncle is an author. Well, to be be frank, he's not actually my uncle, but he's more of an uncle to me than any of my own relatives. His wife, my almost-aunt, is the best friend of my mother. When my parents moved two states and about a million intellectual miles away from their parents and siblings, they did more than simply fulfill their own need for escape and freedom; unbeknownst to them, they also gave me a wonderful gift and a terrible curse. I cliche, perhaps, but it's the most concise way I can think to explain it.

I was an only child. It was more than simply the obvious lack of siblings; for all points and purposes, I had no cousins, no aunts and uncles, no grandparents, either. A yearly visit didn't make up for the distance between me and my family, but something else did. My parents close friends, and my own close friends, became like family to me. They say you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends. In a way, I was able to have both.

Back to my uncle. He's an author. He self-publishes, but is fairly successful. Mostly, he writes nature books, but he's recently ventured into the world of novels. I had the pleasure of reading his most recent novel during my vacation. There is something entirely eery about reading a book written by someone you know. Any reference they make, you know why. Any speeches, you can almost hear in their voice. You can recognize cameo appearances from people you know. You can recognize themes from your own life.

Even more strange than the hearing my uncle's voice out of a female protagonist, was the experience that came next. Done with one book, and hungry for related reading, a picked up a short, personal memoir written by my uncle's father. There were only about 50 of them printed, only intended for distribution within the family. It was written for his wife, as her health and memory began to whane, so she would not forget their life together. It was touching to say the least.

Memoir is a powerful tool. It is a way of imparting family history, family legend, in immortal print. Truths are revealed in the writing, emotions made clearer, which could perhaps never be communicated otherwise. It is a gift. I sat, reading a book written in love and memory, in a house being built within those very pages.