Kermit said it best:
Of course, Kermit and I are talking about entirely different things. Kermit, however, does have a point. I suppose my version of the song would be "it's not easy being geek" or some other such nonsense.
And I do mean nonsense. Because it's quite easy to be a geek. Sure, there are a few setbacks in the formative years of many peoples lives (high school teasing being one of them) but largely, being a geek is a fantastic thing. The geeks will rule the world. Etcetera, etcetera, yadda yadda yadda, life lesson.
Anyway, this post came about because I just got back a graded column I turned in for class. The grade itself is of no consequence, but the comments on it, however have led me down a train of thought I've been frequenting lately. I miss my nerd/geek friends.
Not necessarily the actual people, but the idea of having a group of similarly geeky friends. I miss that. I miss being able to talk about the newest gadget with fangirlish squeals in the background. I miss the times when saying I want an iPhone and an Android and a Blackberry didn't get me looks of complete and utter confusion as to why I would want so many expensive devices when they all do (in their minds) the same damn thing.
By god I miss my nerds. I miss stupid debates about the merits of one system or another, the talks of building a new desktop, and that group of people that used to (and still do if facebook posts are of any consequence) spend so much time getting pro at fighting games.
And this was all brought on by comments on an inconsequential column for class. We're supposed to be working on "specialty columns" and, like always, I defaulted on video games. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't my best idea. But it wasn't my worst either I suppose.
I wrote (an admittedly not so great column) on achievements and achievement hunting. Mostly 'cause Kotaku had followed up on a previous article about a woman who was an achievement hunter. In a massively involved way. Anyway, the comments sections of those articles, especially the initial article, were pretty judgmental. Lots of bad mother accusations and similar thoughts were voiced and I thought it was a little obsessive, so I wrote (again, an admittedly not so great effort) about it.
My real problem with the comments arose when I was told to change to reviews (of games) for my next column. Now, ignoring the fact that I'm bad at following directions at times (now most certainly being one of them) I'd still have a problem with this suggestion.
Firstly, reviews are boring. At least I think so. Rather, I don't really like doing reviews. I don't think I'm qualified enough to do a review of... anything really. Sure I'm capable of making a small comment here or there, but largely I'm not qualified to review anything (for one, I'm horrible at actually finishing games that I start. Let alone finishing them in a timely manner).
Secondly, game journalism, from what I can tell, is moving away from a review based model. Yes, reviews obviously still exist, but the industry is looking for new ways and new things to report on. Remember way back when, when you could find several game magazines on the newsstands? Not so much anymore. The market is changing. The review based magazines of the past are, for one reason or another, disappearing. Newer magazines (many of which you actually have to search for to get a subscription) are publishing content with fewer reviews and more substantial, for lack of a better word, content. But of course, I can't expect my prof to have a grasp of that but I still can't let it go.
Thirdly (which I should probably stress is entirely a matter of personal opinion and based on nothing but my own bias) I don't give a shit what a general audience cares about. If this column were to have been published (which it most likely never would be, because as I have said, it's kind of awful) it (most likely) wouldn't be in some general interest publication. It would have been in a place where people who had a base understanding of what the hell I was talking about would have found it. It didn't cater to an audience that would need it explained, because the audience I had in mind would have already known the basic facts behind the article.
This is where "not my best idea" comes back into play. While in my all knowing and clearly fantastic mind, the article was for a more informed reader, my admittedly stupid mind forgot that my professor, the man who would actually be reading the article, had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Oops. Should have seen that coming.
As stated earlier, I found myself sincerely wishing I was still in contact with my techie friends. Not that they would have had any effect on my professors lack of knowledge (and my unwillingness to remember to factor that into my shitty columns) , but every time I find myself geeking out with out anyone understanding, I come back to that simple idea. This ideal that has somehow risen up to holy status in my mind. Nerdy friends. Someone to geek out with. Someone who understands my nerdbabble. Someone who knows more than my meager hold on the technosphere (which really is quite trivial, this is part of my problem as well. When I'm the most "techsavvy" in a room, we have a problem)
Anyway, tl;dr: where my nerds at?
Quote of the Day:
"Nerds are just just deep, and neurotic fans. Needy fans. We're all nerds, on one subject or another."
- Jonathan Lethem
