Talk Nerdy to Me

I am a nerd.

What? No wedgies up the flagpole? No shoving me into a locker? No swirlies?

I thought not. Because you see, I am a nerd and nobody cares.

It didn’t used to be this way. For a long time, being a nerd was a stigma. It was a word to describe people who were overly intelligent and obsessed with being so, who were socially awkward and constantly terrorized.

They roamed the school hallways in packs, whispering to each other in nasally voices in an effort to avoid beefy jocks whose sole purpose in life was to mock intelligence.

Their glasses were always taped, their pockets were always protected, and their pants were always wedged firmly under their armpits. In short, they were the collective Steve Urkel.

But something has shifted in the world of the nerd. Maybe it’s social consciousness that bullying might be a bad thing. Maybe it’s a change in personal confidence.

My friends are nerds too. And my family. And most of the people I choose to associate with. We wear that nerd badge with pride because these days (and here’s the shocker), being a nerd is actually pretty cool.

Being a nerd means you can have deep, philosophical conversations with your friends about the meaning of life and happiness, and then immediately switch over to discussing a YouTube video.

Being a nerd means that not only do you spend time reading books, but that you have favorite books. Or bands. Or plays. Or video games.

Being a nerd means yeah, you hang out with other nerds. But not because you’re afraid you’ll be picked on if you don’t. Because you feel comfortable to be yourself around them.

Being a nerd means you can spend your time pursuing things that not many other people may care at all about, but that make you happy.

It means you don’t have to know how to dance. It means you can openly admit to liking math or science. It means you can come to school in a Pokemon shirt and receive not punches, but high-fives.

Really, being a nerd right now just means you have passion for something.

Doesn’t matter what that is. Do you play in a band? Congrats, welcome to the ranks of the Music Nerds.

Are you obsessed with Broadway? There’s a group of Theater Nerds calling your name.

There’s Math Nerds, History Nerds, Gamer Nerds. You could even call the athletes at our school Sports Nerds.

So which nerd am I? I watch Star Wars and Star Trek; I could be a Sci-Fi Nerd. I’m a Fantasy Nerd, if you factor in my love for Tolkien and the Harry Potter series. I could be a Movie Nerd, a Music Nerd; I could even be a Swimming Nerd.

I belong to the ranks of several groups of nerds, and none are better than another. They’re just equally passionate groups of people spending their free time doing what they love.

So, everyone out there: when it comes right down to it, we’re all nerds. So let your freak flag fly. Embrace that nerd card, and wear it with pride. I know I do.

And, as always: live long and prosper.

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Supernatural Love

I just had the best, most original idea for a movie EVER.

So there’s this girl, right? And she’s like, maybe seventeen or eighteen. That age where you’re fully capable of making life-altering decisions. She’s also awkward (because EVERYONE is awkward at that age), and maybe clumsy too. And gorgeous. Like, twenty-five-year-old-with-photoshop gorgeous. Yet- and here’s the best part- she’s totally incapable of talking to boys. Just like every high school girl, right? I’m pretty sure we still thought boys had cooties back then...

Her name is something typical, yet edgy. Preferably something like Kaytlynn or Malyssa. A name you’d be proud to wear in your forties.

Anyway, she has to go to a new school because her parents divorced. Or maybe her dad dies, or he loses his job. Whatever. Adult drama isn’t interesting enough to include. Not when we have cheerleaders to knock books out of people’s hands or football players to call someone a spaz then high-five each other.

You know. Real, gripping drama.

So at this new school, no one really notices her (the horror!) except this one boy. And he’s hot. Like, REALLY hot. So hot, his face probably melts of his skull once or twice a day, so he has to use eyeliner and hair gel to keep it on straight. And his name is something really cool and original, like Lucien or... I don’t know, Blayde. Something dangerous, with tons of x’s, k’s, and z’s. Those are the SEXY letters.

Immediately (seriously- within walking into the same room) the two teenagers realize they are meant to spent every second of the day together, discussing art, music, and philosophy. Like real teenagers do. Blayde is the first person to truly grasp the deep, dark, deepness of Malyssa’s seventeen-year-old soul, and Malyssa is the only person who can be around Blayde’s perfectly sculpted cheekbones without cutting herself on them.

But there’s a problem. A secret Blayde has been hiding from Malyssa. Blayde is secretly... a merman.

I KNOW. Who would have guessed?

Luckily for Blayde, this only makes him more attractive to Malyssa. However, the two of them can’t be together, because Blayde’s father (who sort of looks like Poseidon, but with eyeliner) forbids him to be with a human. And also, she might drown.

So the two of them see each other in secret, existing in a perfect world of snuggling montages set to a backdrop of late-eighties love ballads and the cries of eagles.

Can’t you just picture the beautiful, heart-wrenching dialogue the two will have? Blayde will look into Malyssa’s eyes and whisper, “I’d give up my tail and gil-lungs for you, my sweet anemone.” And Malyssa won’t say anything, because they’re underwater and she’s trying not to pass out.

A bad guy will have to come in at some point, but we won’t spend much time explaining who he is or where he comes from. We’ll just have Blayde nearly die saving Malyssa and some cool slow-mo shots of him strangling the bad guy with his perfectly coiffed hair. In the end, the two end up together and another love ballad plays us into the credits.

I can’t believe how amazing and original this movie will be. Now all we need is a title... something that’s short and catchy, and has nothing at all to do with the movie.

How about “Plethora?” That’s a sexy-sounding word.

I just wish there were more z’s in it...

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Holiday Hell: A Satire

Aside from summer vacation and Black Friday, the holiday season is my favorite time of year. A solid block from Halloween until New Year’s, when we get to wallow in the beauty of overpriced poultry, jarringly-bright festive lights, and more familial tension than a 12-hour “Jerry Springer” marathon. Really, though, what’s not to love?

Consider the simple goodness of Halloween: a holiday that began as a pagan method of ushering deceased relatives into the afterlife (including human sacrifice and paying homeless people to pray for your family members), and now consists of encouraging children to dress up like a comic book character and walk around parentless, demanding treats from strangers.

This is one holiday that has remained just as whimsical and traditional as when it first started. I mean, what’s the difference between eating a nutmeg-based “soul cake” that signifies a soul being freed from Purgatory and a chocolate-based Mars Bar that signifies an upcoming root canal? Only that whole “Purgatory” thing, but that’s pretty trivial in the long run. Overall, no one could find a flaw in children accepting candy from groups of masked strangers. When has that ever gone wrong?

Thanksgiving is a holiday that keeps on giving (pun shamefully intended), providing us with everything we love about the holiday season: family, good food, and historical turmoil. After all, the only way to celebrate a bunch of Puritans crashing their boat into an enormous rock and massacring 700 Pequot Indians is enjoying a slice of pumpkin pie.

Coming too soon after Halloween to manage any pre-holiday diet, Thanksgiving basically does the same thing to our bodies as the stomach-babies in “Alien”: explodes our stomach without so much as a heads-up and leaves us to suffer. The recurring (but never actually true) plan all of us hold close to our cholesterol-caked hearts is that we’ll try to eat healthier this year. This lasts until we actually begin eating, after which we usually find ourselves reclined in our chairs with the buttons on our skinny jeans screaming for mercy, as our Aunt Flo stuffs a fifth piece of pecan pie down her throat whilst claiming, “I shouldn’t; I’m on a diet!”

(Personally, I intend to follow the “Just eat as much as you want and have fun” plan. I’ll let you know how it goes after my imminent triple bypass).

Then comes the great grandiose of the holiday season: Christmas. We put trees inside, lamps outside, and sing holiday songs that will surface in our subconscious again during mid-April and refuse to disappear until next November. Christmas is like what would happen if all the other winter holidays were put into a blender and pumped full of steroids; you’ve got the forced family bonding of Thanksgiving, the sugary confections of Halloween, and the skinny-jeans-ripping meals of... well, basically everything.

Plus, the best part of all: PRESENTS.

Now, I know the whole Grinch spiel of “maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more,” and all that holly-scented jazz. We all do, having grown up with Christmas specials that shove peace on Earth down our throats with cries of “EAT SYMBOLIC HAPPINESS, YOU TINY ELVES!”

But, lets be real here. Presents are the only reason you remember Christmas at all. Years from now, we may not remember the hot chocolate we drank or the moonlit walks past the blinking house lights, but we WILL remember getting a copy of Call of Duty instead of Halo, and subsequently throwing our XBox across the house in righteous indignation and refusing to speak to our parents until New Years.

Ah, the memories of the digital generation.

The only downside of the holiday season, for me at least, is how FAST everything seems to go. You’re halfway through taking off your Halloween costume when your parents begin ordering a turkey. Three days later, the Christmas Lights Fairy visits all the good little houses and covers them in traffic hazards. And then, before you know it, all that’s left is half a pillowcase full of candy, a skyline of leftovers in the fridge, and that one neighbor across the street who keeps his lights up all year round.

So, this holiday season, try to appreciate each moment. Revel in your younger sibling throwing up eggnog all over their stocking. Giggle in delight as your great-aunt asks why you don’t just cut your hair, you freakin hippie. Suffer in contented silence through hours upon hours of sappy Christmas movies that make your mom cry. Enjoy it while you can.

And, to all my fellow Jews out there: Happy Hanukkah. See you all December 24 for Chinese food and a movie. Happy Holidays!

http://www.scotscoop.com/24853

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Words with addiction

 A few words about this piece; this is, without a doubt, my favorite article. I have won several awards for it, and it really reflects my voice and writing skills.

Carlmont is in trouble. There is an invisible menace lurking within our walls. It draws unsuspecting students in with promises of fun and games, and ensnares them in a bottomless pool of addiction.

  It infects anyone and everyone without mercy, and does not discriminate between students or teachers.

  It can hide itself anywhere. In fact, it’s probably lurking in your pocket right now.

  I speak, of course, about the iPhone and Android app, Words With Friends.

  On the surface, Words With Friends seems like just another harmless app. You hear about it from a friend, you download the free version (because who wants to pay 99 cents for virtual Scrabble?), and you don’t give it a second thought. You grow to enjoy playing WWF, and are grateful for buying it.

  But soon, the fun ends. Before you know it, you’re playing countless games at a time. You buy a dictionary, just to check if there are indeed any words consisting of only consonants. Every five minutes, you refresh the page, in the vain hope someone has already played back.

  Your entire life begins to revolve around those little yellow tiles, and any conversation not involving the phrase “triple word score” bores you. Your friends and family soon see the uselessness of trying to converse with you, as you only say things like. “Ooh, ‘weather’. That’s worth like, ten points.” or “Do you think ‘JUXWAZPATION’ is a word?”

  Soon, you are at risk of infecting others. Words With Friends Addiction (WWFA) is an airborne disease, and can be spread by such simple activities as saying to a friend, “Hey, You should play Words With Friends.”

  Thus the cycle continues. An unbroken circle of addiction, that if left untreated, will consume Carlmont in no time at all. Sad as it is, more and more students are falling victim to WWFA every day.

  Sophomore Ryan Yen admitted to be extremely addicted. “I play WWF every day, but I only realized I was addicted when I noticed I had 20 games going at once.” He went on to say, “Everyone I know plays. A friend introduced me to it. I think it’s fun.”

  Even the administration is not safe from this debilitating illness. When asked if he was considering quarantining the school, Vice Principal Robert Fishtrom responded, “I think WWF is a good educational outlet for students. Since some teachers also play, it’s a good way for them to connect with the kids they teach. However, playing it shouldn't interfere with the Electronic Policy. Students are not allowed to use any electronic devices during school hours”

  Fishtrom concluded by insisting, “I don’t have a problem.” He then glanced surreptitiously at the iPhone on his desk.

  Is this the future of Carlmont? Are our hallowed halls destined to be roamed by zombified kids with their noses shoved so far into their phones they can’t see where they’re going?

  No. I hereby implore the remaining addiction-free Carlmont students to do their part in stopping WWF from taking over our school. We must make it our mission to help the poor souls who are having their lives ruined by this malevolent app.

  Addicts, or “scrabblers” as they’ve come to be called, are easy to spot. They spend every free moment they have playing WWF. Their eyes are blurry from staring at a small screen from hours on end, and they often voice the complaint “Man, my letters suck this round!”

  In extreme cases, they may turn in homework assignments with all of the letters boxed, or even intersecting each other.

  Approach scrabblers with caution. Though they may appear harmless, if angered, they’ve been known to hurl iPhones or Droids at people’s heads.

  The only known cure to WWFA is to quit cold-turkey. Convince them to stop using their phone, at least for a day. However, there are techniques that can help with symptoms, such as going on a walk or taking a nap.

  If we work together, we can prevent WWFA from becoming an epidemic. I know we can do it.

 Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go play Words With- I MEAN DO MY HOMEWORK. Yeah. Homework is what I meant.

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