The Nerd Shield: How Geek Culture Has Made Us Believe that The Walking Dead and The Big Bang Theory are Good TV Shows

I’m not sure when it happened, but it suddenly became okay to be nerdy. I am not certain whether this was a result of popularizing Geek Culture (i.e. The Lord of The Rings, Twilight, comic book films, The Big Bang Theory, video games, etc.) or if it was just the natural progression that comes with graduating from the cut-throat social order of high school into a more accepting world, but the evidence is tangible.

Most of the people I know, to some degree, are nerdy, myself included. If I said this ten years ago, when I was still in high school, I would have offended most of the people I associated with, but now they would tend to agree, although possibly half-heartedly.

So what happened? Did society as a whole become more welcoming to “outsiders” or did the unending quest for status in high school make us deny our geeky tendencies?

High school was (and probably still is) hell for a nerd, but I tend to believe that popular culture has made it far more tolerable, perhaps even cool, to have nerdy hobbies, interests, and proclivities, to the point that people will self-identify as nerds.

Why, then, does every nerd I know need to feel like he or she is discriminated against?

Applecide(r)

Homocide=Murder of a Human
Genocide=Murder of an Ethnic/Racial Group
Regicide=Murder of a King
Applecide(r)=Murder of an Apple?

Walking Tour of West Seattle Landmarks

Wow. It has been over a whole year since I’ve updated my blog. In that time period, I’ve had inspiration for articles and the motivation to write, but never both at the same time. My job requires me to compose articles on a daily basis, which wears me down for recreational writing. But I’m trying to get back to posting on a semi-regular basis, so let’s see how that goes.

For my first blog since the wildly popular Dual SurvivalDrinking Game, I have a walking tour of West Seattle that hits some unheralded and unknown landmarks. Any true West Seattleite knows about Lincoln Park, Husky Deli, and Alki Beach (if you haven’t been to these, VISIT THEM), so I want to shine the spotlight on some quirky spots that you may not have seen.

You can certainly drive the route, but with the recent warm weather, I recommend getting out and stretching your legs. The walk is around 4 miles, so it isn’t short, but it is a fun way to spend an afternoon. Special thanks to my sister, April, for helping with the photography. I hope to do more of these, so this blog will focus only on landmarks west of California Avenue. Enjoy!

Dual Survival Drinking Game

Hey everyone, in case you haven't heard, I'm back in Seattle! It is definitely nice to be back, although this weather is killing me. Hopefully I'll get a chance to see everyone in the next month or so.

I haven't written a blog post in over a month, mostly due to moving, working, and having my own side projects, but I think this is a good one. I now present a drinking game for the greatest reality show on TV, Dual Survival. If you haven't seen it, it revolves around two nature survivalists placed into difficult situations where they must use their skills to build shelter, find food, and survive.

The kicker is that the two men have very different methods. Dave is a Vietnam Vet and a hunter, who would rather kill a meal than eat berries and bugs, while Cody is a hippie who doesn't ever wear shoes. Obviously, their conflicting ideologies provide a lot of the entertainment.

Even though Dual Survival is entertaining on its own, I created a drinking game with my cousin Katie that is sure to add some excitement to the duo's adventures. So here it is, the Dual Survival Drinking Game.

One Drink
• They make a weapon
• Disinfect water
• Make a fire
• B-reel shot of an animal
• Argue about survival methods
• Dave complains about not having meat
• Whenever someone says the words:
     o “Calories”
     o “Chicken”
     o “Hippie”
     o “Hypothermia”
     o “Death Trap”
     o “Core Temperature”
• Dave makes fun of Cody’s bare feet/shorts/braids
• Someone eats a bug
• Cussing is bleeped
• Cody braids something
• Dave plays with a dangerous animal
• Signal each other with animal calls

Two Drinks
• “Randomly” discover a human-made object
• Cody talks to inanimate object
• Make a non-weapon/non-shelter tool from nature
• Dave tries to kill something
• Someone removes his bandana
• Cody makes a crazy metaphor

Take a Shot
• Create a tool that completely fails it’s intended purpose
• Cody makes a subtle pot-smoking reference
• Dave successfully kills an animal

How to Write a Short Story

Do you love short stories? Do you find them the perfect length, fascinating, and fun to read? Do you wish you could write short stories yourself?

Well with this handy guide of How to Write a Short Story, you will be able to let the creative juices flow and craft a personal piece you can be proud of.

It would be foolish and arrogant to assume my advice could transform Michael Bay into Ernest Hemingway, but these steps should help inspired writers focus their many ideas into a single story.

I will be using my story Fletcher in the Lie as an example throughout this article. You can still follow along without reading it, but here is the link if you want to know the references:
http://hawkinit.blogspot.com/2011/05/fletcher-in-lie.html

Determine Your Subject Matter

The first things to do when beginning to write a short story is decide what your main topic will be. This does not have to be as difficult as finding a thesis for a term paper; it should actually be quite easy.

Everyone has thousands of stories inside him/herself. Most of these are based on real events and are considered “non-fiction.” But honestly, most fiction is based off of true life.

Drawing from events in your own life is the easiest way to write fiction. I would love to write a story about being a soldier in Iraq, but without the experience it would be total BS.

When I write a short story, I like to find a common element to craft the story around. Sometimes it is an emotion, like love or frustration, a person I know, or an event that actually happened.

For example, in Fletcher in the Lie, my idea originated with a friend that always told lies, even when it was actually more beneficial to tell the truth. From that concept, I developed the basis of the story.

My second idea came from living in LA, with its major industry, Hollywood, designed to make money through the creation of stories.

Why is This Story Worth Telling?

As mentioned, everyone has great stories inside them. When you tell one of these to another person, or a group of people, ask yourself “why”?

• Why is it important for others to hear? Is it funny? Sad? Relevant?
• Why this story versus a different one? What makes this story better than any of my other stories?
• Why would people want to hear this story?

Knowing the answers to these questions will help you figure out why you want to write down this tale and turn it into a short story.

For me, I wanted to turn my two ideas into one cohesive story and they blended well. The two characters are discussing a friend, Fletcher, who always lies, while they walk down Hollywood Boulevard, which is notorious for imitation and the embodiment of fakeness. I also knew it would make a solid short story, but wasn’t deep enough for a full novel.I wanted to make my readers to ponder the characters’ discussion and see the hypocritical nature of their argument versus their lives.

Know Your Characters

Characters are the driving force behind 99% of stories (rough estimate). They are the ones that create the conflict and eventually grow/change/evolve as they learn a lesson.

All of the characters must display your main theme, either by adding to it or acting as a contrast. They push the story forward so that the reader/audience picks up on the theme.

In my story, the narrator (he’s never named, so let’s call him “Guy”) is trying to justify Fletcher’s rampant lying while his girlfriend Susan thinks Fletcher is untrustworthy. Their opinions are contrasting, which creates a dilemma for the readers where they must take sides according to their own beliefs.

Develop a Complete Story Around Your Central Idea

With your topic in mind, develop a story that revolves around it. This means using it as a theme that runs throughout the story.

Ask yourself; what is the purpose of this story? What do I want my readers to feel after their done? What do I want them to think about at the end of the book, and have crawling around their brains for weeks afterwards?

As stated, Fletcher in the Lie pits two characters against each other in their views on telling stories, but it is the scenery that reveals the author’s true intention. Through the use of the costumed street performers, the message is that the every aspect of life is a performance, and therefore a lie. People merely take their place in it and often don’t realize it (or, to quote Shakespeare, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players”).

The Situations

With the characters and theme determined, you now need to set up scenarios that will test your characters. Ask yourself: What does the character do faced with this dillema, and why?

First, decide on a situation for your characters to be placed in. It could be anything; a war, a breakup, dealing with the death of a relative, whatever. The key is that it must be able to test them in some way.

Next, you have to decide how the characters would respond when put in that situation. They could become cowardly in the face of gunfire, gain strength from the rough breakup, or completely deny the relative’s death, as examples. No matter how the characters respond, you want your readers to take something away from their experience.

Here is a passage from Fletcher:

We hit the end of the tourist section and were about to head into the poorer part of town. The buildings in this area lacked the glitz and glamour we had just walked through. They were mostly comprised of grey apartments and small businesses. Susan asked if we could turn around, and I agreed.

Given the choice of continuing their walk into the “poorer part of town” or returning to the fantastical Hollywood area, Susan chooses to stay in the lie and Guy agrees to follow her.

All in the Details

This may not arise until you have established a writing style, but once you have practice you will want to pay attention to the minutest factors that contribute to a good story.

A seemingly arbitrary segment of Fletcher in the Lie goes, “The sun peaked out from behind a cloud, so I put on the glasses hanging from my shirt collar. I noticed I was the only person around not already wearing them.” It appears to be a random detail on the surface, but I meant it to be a subtle hint at the theme, because people in LA wear their sunglasses not to block the sun from their eyes, but as a fashion statement.

Later a similar situation arises; “The sun had retreated behind the clouds, and I considered removing my shades before ultimately deciding to keep them on.” In this scene, we learn that Guy is just as consumed with his image as everyone else, meaning he too wants to maintain a deception.

Be Willing to Adjust

Things will not always go the way you planned. As I write, I always learn new things about my characters. The key is adjusting on the fly.

Sometimes you tell a story with the ending pre-planned. That is how jokes work (called a punchline), and they make for excellent entertainment. But when I sit down with a pen and paper (laptop and coffee), I often do not know how the story will end until it, well… ends. I have learned to accept that changes will occur and write according to that philosophy. Do not force a bad ending, as this will ruin an otherwise great story.

In my example, I had originally planned to have Guy be aware of his surroundings and transcend the whole phony world, like Holden Caulfield (yes, that is where the title comes from, along with Fletcher being named after a famous liar; bonus points if you identify who). But while writing, I realized that he is just as clueless to his surroundings as Susan and content to live in their fabricated world. Thus, the ending is both of them being happy to live in a fictional world and be able to “stare out of tinted lenses.”

In Conclusion (Not of the Short Story, Of my Advice)

Hopefully this helps your future creative endeavors. One thing to note is that writing does not come easily- to anyone. It takes time and practice to hone your skills and improve, as well as reading as much as you can.

To start your creative process, I would suggest writing a true story and then adding in details that didn’t happen, just like Fletcher does. Use metaphors or exaggerations, like you would when telling a great story to your friends. This will allow you to practice learning how to write a short story and soon you will be able to script amazing pieces of fiction. Good luck!

Sir James the Mighty

Sir James was drinking from his goblet when he heard the ferocious roar of the dragon. Surely this was a noble mission that only a brave knight, like James, could accept. It was in his creed to defend the citizens of Living-Roomvandia from dangerous creatures. Equipped in full body armor, he slid on his helmet, grabbed his mighty sword, and strode bravely from his home in the Kitchen.

The pot atop his head flopped and he had to keep his chin pointed out to prevent it from falling off. The cardboard box worn around his torso, with arm and neck holes cut out, was badly beaten, for he played this game many times, challenging countless mighty foes. Despite the raggedness of his armor, his trusty blade was sharp and strong as ever.

Sneaking into the dragon’s lair, he was fortunate to catch it napping. The crimson creature had its wings wrapped around it and long neck curled with its chin tucked into its yellow breast. He knew that any sudden movement could awaken the beast, so he crept silently. Alas, one of the dragon’s minions pounced from his rear!

“Fluffy, get out of here!” Jimmy yelled at the cat. It purred as it rubbed against his leg. He poked it sharply with the wooden sword. Fluffy squealed and ran out of the room.

This disturbance awoke the fierce creature, and James had no choice but to defeat it head on.

“Attack!” he shouted.

The dragon’s jaw snapped down at him, but he rolled to the left and avoided the flesh-tearing teeth. He quickly popped to his feet, sword before him, ready to strike. He waited for an opening, hoping to counter-attack next time the dragon dove at him. The magnificent beast rose to its rear legs, towering above James, and spread its wings, hissing fire at him.

“It won’t end here,” James reassured himself.

The dragon released a roar that shook the cave walls, causing debris to rain down from the ceiling, then bomb-dove at the small human. Anticipating this move, James tucked into a ball as he summersaulted forward, sprung out of his coiled sphere, and thrust upward at the dragon’s canary stomach, piercing the thick scales. The beast cried and tumbled to the ground, dead on impact.

James sighed in relief, but it was too soon, for just then an evil troll entered the lair. James, spun to face it, sword readied.

“James Francis Smith! What do you think you are doing?” the gruesome fiend bellowed. “You have destroyed that couch cushion!”

James recognized that this troll was too tough to defeat and prepared to flee. He scanned the area for the easiest route of escape, then blast from his spot.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the ugly troll screamed and scooped him up into its arms. “You are getting punished, you little brat.”

He tried desperately to defend himself, swinging his sword and hitting the troll’s arm. It cried out in agony.

“Now you’re gonna get it,” she yelled, holding his wrist with her good hand. She ripped the sword from his small hands and threw him to the ground. “You need to learn a damn lesson. You are too old to be playing these stupid games.”

She whipped the wooden plank at his bottom, stinging it and causing tears to burst from his eyes. And she did it again. And again. And repeated smacking him until Sir James the Mighty was once again Jimmy, the Weakling.

Not a Swimming Story

Shannon woke up on Wednesday.  It was 5 AM, as usual.  She got out of bed, put on her clothes, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, grabbed her pre-packed bag and drove to the gym.  At the gym, she went through her routine of stretches, lifting, and breathing exercises with the team.  Then she dove into the pool. She swam laps all morning until practice was over and it was time for class.  She showered off, changed, ate an apple, a peanut butter power bar, a string cheese, all of which she washed down with an orange smoothie, and walked with a teammate to their 11:30 Econ class.  After classes, she consumed a healthy meal, completed her homework, and watched TV for an hour, before falling asleep for the night.  And she did the same thing the previous day, and would do the same thing the next day.

On Friday afternoons, after all the swimmers were done with classes, they would meet in the gym to discuss the competition for the weekend, then they’d board the bus if it was an away meet, which it was this particular week.  Shannon sat near the front of the bus with the other captains.  She didn’t say much as he bus rolled along, she never really said much, period.  She listened to her iPod and watched the trees move past her window.

The scenery was really lovely.  The bus driver preferred to stay off the highways, it was rumored he was afraid of getting into an accident because his parents died in one when he was young, so the long red vehicle moved along the country roads.  Shannon peered out her window; isolated farmhouses interrupted the endless plains that passed beside the bus.  The pale tanned grass and brown barren Beech trees moved up and down as the bus drove over hills.  Occasionally, Shannon spotted a cow or horse, but the trip was typically uneventful.

At the home school’s city, the team checked into a motel, where they went to sleep early to prepare for the following day.  Shannon took Nyquil, because she couldn’t fall asleep.

At the pool, coach gave an inspirational speech to the swimmers, who mostly ignored him.  Shannon made mental notes on the facility: the number of people in the crowd, the color of the lines on the bottom of the pool, the brightness of the lights, random things like these.  By the time her race was starting, she had filed away all these facts and observations and crouched at the edge of the pool in diving position.  As the buzzer sounded, Shannon dove headfirst into the pool.

Every muscle in Shannon’s body had a purpose.  Her arms whipped around in the butterfly stroke that was ingrained into her memory.  It was an automatic motion that happened beyond her mental control; it was purely physical repetition.  She knew the perfect way to pull the water behind her with her hands and slice them forward through the water, only to repeat the action of dragging the water backwards in a circular pattern that propelled her slender body forwards.  Her long, sinewy legs flutter kicked, the tips of her feet lashing.  She watched the burgundy lines pass underneath her and spotted the girl in the next lane falling behind her.  Halfway down the length of the pool, she exploded from the surface to take in a breath, droplets of water splashing outward, her two shoulder blades jutting from her back like dorsal fins, before plummeting back into the over-chlorinated water.

As she neared the end of the race, her intensity and desperation grew.  The edge of the pool was just a few kilometers ahead and Shannon exerted every ounce of strength she could muster.  Closer, closer; inch by inch; stroke by stroke.  And when she felt like the wall was within reach, she made her final stroke, forcing the water backwards.  Her biceps burned, her shoulders ached, but she lunged forward, arms and fingers slowly extending to their full length.

The female human heart beats about 75 times per minute meaning; in the single second it took Shannon to hit the wall in her final stroke, her heart beat two times due to its working extra hard to pump the necessary blood through her body as it fully exerted itself.  These two “ka-thumps” in her chest, without her knowing, would reverberate throughout the atoms that compose her body, acting almost as a tiny massage to ease the stresses they were receiving from the race.  The molecules of the H2O that surrounded her knocked each other backwards like billiards balls lined up in a row, shooting her forwards at their expense.  And the tiny air bubbles that trickled out of her nose slowly floated to the surface to escape, but not before Shannon would feel her fingertips graze the tiles on the wall, signaling her victory.

She burst from the water, panting, grasping for breath, as her teammates ran over to congratulate her on her win.  They all smiled and patted her on the back as she hoisted her sore body out of the pool.

But Shannon was not thinking about her race.

No, before she won, before the atoms and muscles inside her worked in unison to force her forwards, before she dove into the pool, before she fell asleep the previous night, before the long drive through empty fields past farms and animals, before completing her homework, before her dinner, before her final class, before her 11:30 econ, before morning practice before stretching before she drove to the gym, before she packed her bag, before her teeth were brushed, before she peed, before she put on clothes, before she got out of bed, before she woke up at 5 AM, before Fridaythursdaywednesdaytuesday… she walked to her first class as normal.  But on the way a young man came up to talk to her.

“Hey, you dropped this notebook.  Your backpack is open,” he said.

“Oh, uh… thanks,” Shannon replied.

“You’re welcome.  This might sound a little forward, but I think you’re really beautiful.  Would you like to go get some coffee.  I’m Ken, by the way,” he said.

“I’m Shannon,” she said.  “And I don’t think I can, I’ve got classes.”

“Oh well, that’s fine, maybe some other time.”

Shannon watched him walk away and turned to go to her 11:30 econ, but stopped and yelled after him, “You know what, I think I will have that coffee.”

The handsome young man looked back over his shoulder with a marvelous smile.  And Shannon went to coffee, and lunch, and a movie then a small party with him, getting home late with a smug satisfaction as she crawled into bed.