Pulitzer, Shmulitzer. I was on local television.

I have a great family. My mom and sisters love me and are very supportive of what I do. Even if they don't understand exactly what it is that I do do. That's ok. They're supportive anyway. I tell them about my day and they get a glazed look on their faces, similar to the one I often sport when my big sis tries to explain the inner workings of pharmacology to me.

I often forward them links to publications that I've been interviewed for and quoted in, like the LA Times, Washington Post, Datamation, eWEEK, Line 56, and CRM Magazine. They sometimes send me a little email back and say, "Congratulations" (with two exclamation marks). Sometimes I remember to send them links to articles I've written for trade magazines. They are always very polite and supportive, even if they don't actually read the articles.

But should I happen to make a 3 second appearance in a tiny bit of footage on the local tv channel because of a charity walk I participated in, I'll get several excited calls and someone will actually tape it when it comes back on at 11!

I was going to make light of this and say that I don't get it, but I can't because I actually do.

My appearances in various journals and trade publications, as well as the articles that I write, are part of my professional life. It is a Trillian that they've never met. I might be very proud of that part of my life, but it's not a part that they have ever participated in or seen. That's not the Trillian that laughs too loud in the movie theatre or is constantly telling stories about Frankie and Benjy.

The chick that waddled past the tv crew at the charity walk? Ah. That's the Trillian that they know and recognize. And, so while it may seem funny that they get more excited about a chance appearance on a local news show than by coverage as an industry expert in an international publication, it all makes sense in a weird-ass, crazy, cosmically fucked-up way.

Know what? That's ok. I wouldn't trade them for coverage in Time Magazine.

Geek is the New Cool

Dictionary.com has this to say about the word Geek:

1. A person regarded as foolish, inept, or clumsy.
2. A person who is single-minded or accomplished in scientific or technical pursuits but is felt to be socially inept.
3. A carnival performer whose show consists of bizarre acts, such as biting the head off a live chicken.

Do you remember when being a geek was a bad thing? I do. Being called a geek when I was in elementary and high school was a serious slap in the face. Today, however, the term is a badge of honor. Certainly, I wear the geek title with pride. And I enjoy associating with other geeks -– more geeky than myself if possible.

How did this happen? When did it become cool to be a geek? I don'’t know the exact time, but near the end of my university tenure (mid-nineties for those of you who must know), being a geek was less of a stigma than being a nerd, a spaz, or a dweeb. The dot.com craze was sweeping the nation, and computer geeks were leading the way. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were early champions of the geek is sheik phenomena. Geeks were quickly becoming millionaires, and the rest of the world was quick to see geeks in a new light. We'’ve never looked back.

From a personal standpoint, I'’ve always preferred geeks to mainstream people (i.e. those cool jocks and cheerleaders who have largely found that high school was the high point of their lives). Back in the day I didn't think of my friends as geeks, though. They were just interesting people that saw the world in a different way than most other people. I could identify with them. They were heaps more fun to talk to and their intelligent "“in jokes" made me feel like part of a special club. I wouldn'’t have called myself a geek in high school, but I don'’t mind that moniker now. I embrace it. And most of the people that I hang out with now are self-professed geeks. And anyone who wouldn't call themselves a geek, I wouldn't want to have the title anyway. People who still think geek is lame are most likely lame themselves, in my humble opinion.

Embrace it, people: geek is the new cool.

Things that make me NOT A GOOD PERSON:

• I don't tell my co-workers when I'm going out for coffee because I don't want to have to get them anything.
• Sometimes I throw out my kids' drawings when the drawer gets too full. I don't put them in the recycle bin because they might find them and take them out.
• I think I'm smarter than most of the people I encounter every day.
• I give whole blood because giving plasma is an inconveniently long process.
• Even though I'm a woman, I usually assume that the slow/bad driver ahead of me is a woman (unless they're driving a Cadillac, Buick, Oldsmobile - which are old man cars).
• I feel bad for other people because their kids aren't as cute as mine.
• I think a lethal virus that took out most of the Wal-Mart-shopping population of North America would be a good thing.
  

This is why I like being a parent

While rooting through my sock drawer for appropriate footwear (it's cold today), I found this note that Frankie left under his pillow last spring,

Dear tooth fary,

I lost my tooth down the drain today. I am really sorry abowt that.

Love,

Frankie

It put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

Opossum sighting causes life re-evaluation

Once in a while I receive information that shifts my perception of the world an eighth of a millimeter to the left. Information that makes me question my cognitive abilities. Information that makes me wonder what else I was wrong about. Information that would fall in this category include finding out that my ex-colleague was undergoing gender reassignment, the day I found out that my boyfriend of three years had been cheating on me for the entire span of our relationship, and learning the real meaning of the word "ignorant" in grade eight.

Today I had another such revelation when I saw a dead opossum on the side of the road. I mean, who knew that there were opossums in Southwestern Ontario? Where the hell did they come from? Have they always been here? How could I have gone for 34 years without knowing of their existence here?

All Time Favorite Rock 'n' Roll Lyrics

I like these lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's Pink Cadillac because I can soooooooo picture Arthur saying them:

You may wonder how come I love you
When you get on my nerves like you do
Well baby, you know you bug me
There ain’t no secret about that

Fellow Bloggers, share with me your favorite lyrics!