The continuing saga of my journey to admit: I am a sci-fi nerd.
May 2010: Doctor Who. I could really just stop there. Except I won’t. Cause extra wordy is how I roll. My roommate The Flying Crane introduces me to her friend The Instigator and, after I pass his test with the correct answer to the eternal question ‘Who shot first?’, he tells us about this British sci-fi show called Doctor Who. Now, I’m not usually one for British television, so I have some reservations. Then one Saturday we watch the first five episodes. There are no words for that level of greatness. It instantly joins The West Wing on my list of THE BEST SHOWS OF ALL TIME. I will be looking back fondly at those three weeks I spent watching 4 seasons of the modern Doctor Who for quite some time.
June 2010. I’m g-chatting with The Instigator when he asks me if I would be down for a sci-fi themed book club. My immediate response? Hell yes! At this point I’m more than a little embarrassed at the (very) few sci-fi books I have read. While I’d covered the TV side of things quite thoroughly it seems I had abandoned sci-fi literature sometime in the 3rd grade. Borders fed this desire quite nicely with its weekly coupons and I soon become just as addicted to the likes of Asimov, Heinlein, Gibson, and Adams. I aspire to be as cool as the nerds in my sci-fi book club. Someday.
So that’s the story of my epic journey to sci-fi nerdom. The one thing I still don’t get is most people’s reaction to the genre. The average person avoids sci-fi like the plague and views those who do like it as the inflicted. I mean, I don’t really get the joy of being terrified but I don’t judge people who love a good horror movie. Trust me people, sci-fi is not that messed up. Okay sure, strange things do happen. But sci-fi at its best is able to analyze humanity and search out all that meaning of life stuff in a totally new way.
Who wouldn’t want in on that?