My lovely wife needed to run by Hobby Lobby for some craft supplies this morning. My son had a $20 bill burning a hole in his pocket and wanted to check out their selection of plastic toy soldiers to add to his already massive army of polystyrene warriors. The model kit aisle is only two away from the army men aisle but, having already been warned that our discretionary $$$ is kinda light for the week, I decided to avoid that particular part of the store. I’m not world-renowned for my impulse control. Let’s just say I’m the reason they put a wall of candy in the check-out lane.
You know that old saying, “Beauty is only skin deep but ugly is to the bone?” I think the same thing applies to being a nerd. The “to the bone” part that is. Even at age 43, I still find myself getting excited about the new Iron Man film, a particular game or comic book that’s coming out, or reading Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time.
If you’re like me, you’ve seen the eye rolls when certain friends or family glimpse your nerd cave, catch you reading a comic, or when you talk about the new superhero flick. Am I rocking a Peter Pan complex or something? In the end, I really don’t care. I love what I’m doing and frankly, the eye rollers are some of the most boring people I know.
That being said, I do find it interesting that my identity, personality trait, or whatever you want to call it, even manages to permeate my dreams. I’ll explain…