Ok, so...I'm a nerd. And?

Hey, folks. SinSynn here.

Man....I've missed you guys! As a result, I may have gotten carried away, and this is kinda long.
I'm sorta sorry 'bout that. But hey, grab a cup (or glass) of whatever and read on!

As many of you know, The Crazy Lady I Live With had a lil' surgery. After a bit o' nonsense back-n-forth with the Doctor types, turns out she's gonna be fine. Sadly, they were not able to remove the part of her brain responsible for nagging, as firstly they claim not to know where such a thing is located (Lies! Lies I tell you!), and secondly they weren't cutting anywhere near her head, so...yeah. Not gonna happen.
When I suggested just scooping out her entire brain (There can't be a lot of it, I maintain. Take two seconds, I figger), they just turned around and walked away after sharing some kinda secret eye-roll with The Crazy Lady's sister. Her face was all, 'See? I told you. This is what we deal with. Every day. Constantly.'

So, when all is said and done, I missed six days of work (eesh), I've had The Crazy Lady's sister here for a week ('You still building your little toys?' Why yes. Yes I am), and despite how friggin' annoying she is I was actually happy to see her this time, cuz her showing up meant I could return to work full time.
Which is important, cuz ya need money to live in this world, know what I mean? I think you do.

Ok, now...if only she'd leave.
She was supposed to leave today, but somehow the whole 'leaving' thing got pushed back to Tuesday. 'Probably Tuesday,' in her words.
Vegas is giving two-to-one odds on her actually leaving Thursday, from what I understand.
I offered to kick-start her broom for her, and I suggested we just take her, and the broom, up to the roof and toss 'em off together, but so far my suggestions have been dismissed immediately, or ignored altogether.

Anyway...guess who's playing April O'Neil in the upcoming re-boot of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie franchise?
Yep, you guessed it- the future Mrs. Synn herself, Megan Fox.

*OMG I'm so happy! I'm gonna see it like 90 times! I'm gonna....whoops. I'm gonna need more paper towels...*

Yeah, so I'm not like, a big TMNT fan or nuthin.' I have a friend with all the turtles tattooed on one of his arms. Now that's a fan. Me? Well, I love Megan Fox, so I'll put up with a buncha silly green-screen effects, or dudes in rubber outfits, or animatronic Turtles, or whatever digital kinda nonsense they put up on the screen to see me some Megan Fox...
...I mean, it can't possibly be worse than Transformers 1 and 2, can it?

I'll hafta pull out my special trench coat. The one with the hole in the pocket my tentacle can fit through...I wore it to all the Underworld movies (Except Rise of the Lycans. That one does not exist in my world. It never happened, and we shall never speak of it. Are we clear? Good), and Transformers 1 and 2 (The third one does not exist in my world. It never happened, and we shall never, ever speak of it. Clear? Good), and of course I wore it the sixty-three times I saw Jennifer's Body that one week.

It totally woulda been sixty-four, but apparently the movie theater security people are all connected somehow, and apparently there was some dude bearing an entirely coincidental likeness to yours truly doing some freaky stuffs during showings of Jennifer's Body that week (I know, right? What are the odds?), and some flyers were distributed, bearing the entirely coincidental likeness of this fool and mentioning his penchant of bringing rolls of paper towels to see Jennifer's Body for 6 or 8 straight showings.
Ushers were ordered to confiscate rolls of paper towels from patrons, and even though I warned 'em...even though I told 'em that taking my roll of paper towels was a really, really bad idea on that sixty-third viewing, they took 'em anyway.

Now somehow I'm responsible for some sorta 'Hazardous Material' cleaning service, and they can't seem to remove the residue of several hundred gallons of...well, nevermind. Some of the customers in front of me were stuck to their seats for several hours, as well, and are filing all kindsa lawsuits for everything from head and neck injuries (apparently due to the impact of being hit by several hundred gallons of...well, y'know), to 'emotional trauma and distress' (at first I thought these cases were unrelated, and these were just dudes who had their paper towels taken too), and even one lady who claims she's blind now, due to being hit in the face with several hundred gallons of...*ahem*
I told her not to turn around. I told her to mind her business and watch the movie. I told her to ignore the grunting, and that I had no idea why the seats in this section were all shaking...did she listen? No. And now somehow the whole thing is my fault.

I know what yer thinking. Yer thinking, 'SinSynn, this is clearly another example of Xenos Discrimination and an obvious setup.'
You couldn't be more right, my friend. I saw Matt Ward totally doing the same thing when I accidentally wandered into a screening of Thor (I was looking for the bathroom, and judging by the smell...), and no one took his paper towels.
Granted, he was the only one in the theater. His presence probably explains the smell, too.

*I heard a male voice muttering something  that sounded like, 'You're a dirty, dirty girl, aren't you? Yes you are. ALL GUNS PREPARE TO FIRE!' Then the seats started shaking really badly. I turned around to ask whoever it was to stop, and all I saw was wildly thrashing tentacles. I was trying to make sense of what I was seeing when there was this...this...the only words that can describe it are 'massive discharge.'*

The Hamster That Lives In My Head has agreed to handle my case(s) pro-bono, even though I told him I wasn't a U2 fan. The only actual witness in the case is like, blind now, and her statement is clearly questionable (Tentacles? What? Pffft! That's crazy!), he thinks I should get off, and speaking of getting off, he says I should DEFINITELY not see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie in the theaters.
Pfffft! As if.
Oh, no. I'm hopin' I get to see Megan in Super-IMax 3-D glory.
And, y'know...turtles, or whatever.

So, speaking of being freaky, I had an interesting conversation this week.
I was wandering around my neighborhood, doing nothing in particular except enjoying the lovely spring weather; the trees along the block are all flowering and whatnot. It's quite nice.
I bump into a friend o' mine, and he suggests we get a beer. So we hit the nearest lil' shady joint, shoulder up to the bar with our drinks and begin BS'ing. We pound back a couple, and I can't help but notice the whole time I'm there, this chick is eyeballing me. I'm looking at her, too, cuz I kinda think I know her from somewhere, but I can't remember where.
Whatevs, me and my friend prepare to bounce. As I'm heading towards the door, the chick approaches me.
She's all like hey, you don't remember me, do you? And I'm all like, no, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm pretty sure I know you from somewhere, but I'm just dumb sometimes...
So my friend bounces, cuz he's gotta go, and I stay to talk to this lady. Turns out she remembers me from way back in the day when I was a mess. She's all like, wow, you look good now. What are you up to?
So I explain everything, and I mean everything, cuz she asks a lot of questions (as women are prone to do sometimes), and when I'm done she says, 'Huh, so you're kind of a nerd now, huh?'
Naturally, I was all like, 'Ummm...exsqueeze me? My mother what now?'
She looks me dead in the eye and says: You wear glasses. All the time now.
I'm all like, well they make me look nicer. I look like a neo-nazi gang member without 'em. And contacts mess with my eyes when, ummm...they're all dry and red and irritated and whatnot (shush, you, and don't you judge me).

She holds up a bunch of fingers, and begins ticking them off: You build models. And paint them. And play games with them.
Yeah, well...I told you it helped me cope when I was in addiction recovery. It gave me something to do with my time, instead of what I would've been doing, could've been doing- maybe bad things- I was building, painting models and playing games with models. Yes.
She tics off another finger: You write a- lemme get this straight- a 'hobby blog,' where you talk about models and games and all of this? Oh god! Do you play f*cking Dungeons and Dragons?
Sigh. Yes, I actually do write a hobby blog. You should check it out. It's pretty friggin' cool. And no, I don't personally play Dungeons and Dragons, but I know people that do. And they're cool with me, so you should prolly chill...
Oh, I'm not making fun of yer  friends, she waves me off. Lemme see the book in yer pocket.
Yeah, the one in yer back pocket, jackass. You think I didn't look at yer butt? You actually have a butt now. You were all skin and bones back then...
Well, I do have a nice butt, if I do say so myself (and I do), but I still pull the book out reluctantly, because...
'Storm of Iron? A Warhammer 40,000 novel'? Weren't you just telling me about this? Isn't this one of those games you play?
Played. I don't play 40k anymore...and that book is a classic. I was reading it in the park earlier, that's all. I don't really like the game so much nowadays.
Aha! she points at me now. See? It's true! You're a big giant nerd now! I bet you watched all of Battlestar Galactica, too. Like twice! She's playing 'keepaway' with my book as I try to grab it from her.

Dammit, she's got me on that one. She's got me on all of 'em, actually. I have one of those rare, speechless SinSynn moments (believe you me, those are rare indeed). I stop fighting her for the book.

Hmph, I say. Well waddayaknow? I guess yer right. I'm a nerd. Now, is that supposed to like, hurt my feelings or sumpthin'? Am I supposed to be ashamed of where I'm at, compared to what I could be, or rather, what I was?

*Cuz I could be in one of these. Except mine probably wouldn't be all cool and Black Sabbath-y like these*

She hands me back my book, and gives me one of those Terran Female looks that means something along the lines of 'you understand nothing.'
She's mostly right, even if she doesn't know it.
Of course not, you idiot. It's just nice to see you doing something with yourself, that's all. I would've thought maybe you were in jail, or dead like so many of the others (we had been over the names. There were a lot of 'em), but you look like you're doing all right. It was good to see you. Enjoy your book, nerd.
'Yeah, you too,' I stammered out like, the lamest comeback/parting line ever, 'You enjoy yer...thing, too. Whatever that may be.'
And then she was out...she was laughing as she left.

So I sat there at the bar for a few minutes. I woulda left with her, but that woulda been awkward. And you don't wanna leave a few seconds after, and seem like yer on some stalker sh*t, so I sat. I sat and I thought...
Yes, I'm well aware that me thinking is not a good thing, knuckleheads. Thank you all for reminding me.

So...like, what? I'm a nerd?
Hmmm...ok, well, how to take this?
I mean, I do a whole bunch of what could technically be considered 'nerd stuffs,' but the real kicker is the hobby thing, I suppose. Blogging isn't entirely geeky cuz jocks write blogs about their muscles an' stuffs, right?
Yeah, that's right. I went there. Nyah.

*I saw this on HotJocks.Com. It's like, sign language for numbers an' stuffs. I'm giving you my phone number, ok? Ok. So the first number is like 7, got it? Cuz I'm holding up like 7 fingers. Oh man, this is like genius!...Ummm...wait. Sh*t! What's the number sign language sign for zero? HotJocks.Com didn't show me how to make a zero! Justin, quick! Fetch me a nerd!*

Since I am honestly-truly not one of those people who gives a damn what total strangers think of me, I am unconcerned in that regard. Funnily enough, I do care what kind of impression I make on people nowadays, because in my Real-Life Occupation, it helps to appear professional.
Like this knucklehead, pictured here:

*Yep, this is me at work. Tool pouch on hip, and walkie-talkie in hand. I'm ready fer da jokes in da comments*

So, there ya go. You all know what my Terran disguise looks like now. I trust you all to keep my identity from the governments of your planet until such time as...well, it won't much matter then.

That guy in the hardhat there? He's a member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, Local Union #3, Division H.
In my Real-Life Occupation, I'm an electrical technician who specializes in life safety systems (fire alarms, specifically). Life safety systems are taken very seriously in New York City, where there are a lot of tall buildings holding a lot of people. I am required, by law, to hold a stack of certifications, go through a lengthy apprenticeship, receive various OSHA and NYC Fire Department training, and so forth. I am a tradesman, and a trained professional in my line of work. I have over twenty years of practical experience in the field. I run large crews of workers, often times a dozen or more. I am responsible for them, and for everything they do. I am also responsible for getting the job done on time and hopefully on or under budget.
The thing about life safety systems is that, if something goes wrong with them, people could get hurt or killed. I've been to buildings immediately after a fire occurs, and I've stepped over the stains left by melted body fat burnt corpses leave behind. It ain't pretty.
My Real-Life Occupation requires a great deal of responsibility from me. So, I find it helps if I look like someone who knows what they're doing.

But, from what I understand, in my personal life, I'm a nerd.
Sigh. What does that even mean anymore? I'm not the only construction worker I know that's into what some would consider 'geeky sh*t.' Construction is a physically demanding, constantly stressful job. The quiet, contemplative nature of painting a model at my hobby desk is wonderful to me for simply lacking the sound of fuck*ng jackhammers in the background.

*'I don't care what anyone says, the Heldrake is OP'*

While I, personally, don't understand why everyone, everywhere isn't playing Infinity (cuz it's like, so awesome), for whatever reason there are people out there wondering why anyone, anywhere would ever spend time playing any miniatures game, never mind Infinity.
I, personally, wonder why people watch reality shows like 'the Real Housewives of Whatever,' but hey, there ya go. Different strokes, different folks an' alla dat.

As I sat there at the bar, contemplating my newly pronounced status, I knew I wasn't upset or insulted  at the potential of being called 'nerd' on the street of anything like that. I walk around all the time in the 'Gopher Mafia' hoodie that Loquacious hooked me up with, and that thing is pretty geeky. regardless, I gotta be the only New Yorker rockin' the Gopher Mafia hoodie, so that's what's up.
I do get a lotta compliments on it from the Hipsters, though....that kinda worries me... 

In my case, I will forever be grateful to our 'community' because it accepted the lost, broken thing I was. I kinda just wandered onto the scene, trailing behind The Ultimate Rival, not knowing what the hell anyone was talking about cuz I was n00b.
To be perfectly honest, I was looking around wondering why no one was stealing all the stuff that, to my mind at the time, looked ripe for stealing. Pretty soon, someone started talking to me.

Here's a funny thing about me- I am very mistrustful of people. Or at least I was. I'm better now, pretty much. But even now, when people are like, nice to me, or express interest or -worst of all- try to be my friend, I get very weirded out. Sometimes it gets perceived as hostility, and whoever it is will be like, 'whoa, man I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...did I say something to...'
It's cuz in my head I think I'm worthless, and there's no way they could be interested in me, they're only acting this way because they want something from me...
I'm not worthless, I know this now. Took me a while, though.

So when that random dude at the hobby store asked me a question, I thought about it for a second, came to the conclusion that giving him the information he asked for didn't represent a threat to me, and decided to answer.
'I play Tau. What's it to ya?'
(I used to have a whole 'I don't know you so why are you talking to me' routine that was super helpful when it came to making friends)
He started in on the whole 'whoa, buddy' routine and The Ultimate Rival gave me a look and jumped in, 'This is his first trip to the store. He's only been playing a couple of months.'
The guy was setting up a table while The Ultimate Rival jabbered, so he didn't see The Ultimate Rival look at me and gave me the tiniest shake of the head, as if to say, 'not here, not now,' or my shrug back that said 'I'm sorry, I dunno.'

*I just hand out cards that have this printed on them now. Saves time*

Nowadays, now that the stupid part of my life is over, I try to return the favor. To pay the hobby backwards, if you will. The hobby has given me what I call 'Safety and Solace.'

Safety, because I've been accepted as a peer everywhere I go and by everyone I meet. Even with the odd dude that I bump into once in a while that...well, we don't really like each other, I've still stayed after the tournament was over and broke down tables with him.

Solace, because when I'm here, with you guys, I know without a doubt, that yer here cuz you like me, and I'm here cuz I like you. No one's lookin' to scam anyone, or some ghetto nonsense that I've had enough of in my RL.

I used to talk about 'the Normals,' and how I don't understand them, and how that used to vex me. Now I don't care. I'm not a Normal and I never will be, and I'm cool with that. Oh, and I'm a nerd.
Ummm...ok, sure, why not? What difference does any of it make?
I suppose this means I'll hafta prepare comebacks for the inevitable 'get a life' and/or 'have sex sometime' cracks, huh?
Ironically, I had a life, and it nearly killed me. Now, I'm perfectly happy to go work hard everyday to earn my paycheck, and to come home to be with my family (as weird and dysfunctional as they may be), and build, paint and play with my lil' models.
As for the sex crack...Well, I've had sex, thanks. In fact, I threw my back out bangin' yer mom last night.

Ok, sure, I'm a grownup and yeah, I've had sex so this is unlikely to bother me. Still, there are some young bucks out there reading this, and that crack might hit them in the head.
Listen, don't worry about it, kid. It'll happen. Trust me.

To all the young hobbyists out there, who maybe feel outta place, who maybe get picked on, and to who every day is some fresh new torture seemingly devised by a God who hates them personally- hang tough. F*ck the haters and do yer thing. I'm not gonna BS you and say, 'Oh, life gets better as you get older,' cuz it doesn't. It just gets different, and at times I'm still convinced there's a God who's only job it is is to make me miserable, but f*ck him too.
My happiness comes from within, and the things I create because of my hobby, the friendships I've made playing these games, and the experiences I've had doing all of this. If someone wants to think I'm some kinda weirdo, or whatever, then...ok, fine- let 'em. I doubt there's anything I can do to change that initial impression.
But if ya get to know me...you definitely realize I'm a weirdo...
And I'm cool with that.

Until next time, folks- Exit with Catchphrase!

- SinSynn

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