Coping With Nerdiness

I am a nerd. There is no denying this fact so I might as well admit it here. In my overnight bag, there are more books than clothes. I think there might be a sweater in there and perhaps a pair of underwear. They will stay in there for the forseeable future. They've been in there so long I'm not sure if they are even the right size anymore. It doesn't really matter either way.


I wasn't always a nerd. The role was chosen for me based on my appearance as a child. I looked bookish so the world assumed I was. I was small and slight of frame. My glasses were bifocals. The glass was so thick that If I had been a more sadistic child I could have staged ant genocide on a scale never seen before.

This made me grade-A prime target for bullies and bullies in training. There wasn't a fist that didn't find a comfortable home on my body. The fists would set up a primary residence on my face and then take the time to set up vacation homes all over the rest of me.

My average (and often below) grades did nothing to help convince them that I wasn't a nerd. I didn't do homework for years. All to no avail.

By the time I got to high school, I realized it was destined to be my role so I played it the best I could. I was so convincing that I managed to get into the Honors classes. The physical beatings stopped at this point, only to be replaced by verbal mockery.

Unfortunately, the bullies weren't as quick witted as I was. If they said one thing, I took it a step further. My self deprecation knew no bounds. If they said I had 4 eyes, I would tell them I had 6.

That's enough of the warm and fuzzy flashbacks for now. Its now time to get back to our regularly scheduled blogging.