Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

After a busy weekend with little sleep, I stayed occupied with school and other responsibilities for the next few days. Friday afternoon there was a volunteer-only free screening of Mother and Child in Salt Lake City that I was able to attend. I drove up by myself with loose plans to try for waitlist tickets to another Sundance movie or two, just because I could.

I had heard that Mother and Child was really good and would make me cry, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the emotional bitch-slap it would give me. In a good way. I’m not usually the “emotional cryer” type of theater-goer, but in my defense there were a lot of other audience members sniffling during the screening and they were also red-eyed as they walked out.  So. If you want to see a heart-achingly wonderful crier of a film, push this one to the top of your list! It has several recognizable names and faces and a somewhat twisty storyline that comes together beautifully, even if slightly predictable.

I’ve learned that predictability isn’t necessarily bad—the audience can be sure about what will ultimately happen as long as they’re intrigued about how the story will get there.

Speaking of stories, I realized after I parked at the downtown cinema that my favorite local independent bookseller, Sam Weller’s, was just a block and a half away. The movie had run too long for me to get tickets to the 6pm show I’d wanted to see, but my parking was validated so wandered over to Main Street.

As I waited to cross the street, it occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve walked alone on a city street. Shows how much I get out, I know. But it reminded me of how much I enjoy solitary time in the city—any city—now and then. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with people and exploring cities together. I just really enjoy my heightened level of observation when I’m in a busy place by myself.

And, of course, there’s the wonderful freedom of browsing this huge and eclectic bookstore without worrying about outlasting another person’s patience. I can’t help it. When I’m in a bookstore, museum, etc., I suddenly need to take in everything. Time becomes irrelevant, which (not surprisingly) can cause friction with my companions.

But look at this bookstore. It has three floors that encourage meandering and happily losing yourself in the must-laced recesses of hidden corners. It’s clean and well-organized and completely entrancing. In Utah there are no dust mites, which means that I don’t burst into a sneezing fit like I do in used bookstores elsewhere.

Since I had my camera with me, I requested permission to take photos. The owner, Tony, happened to be at the front register when I asked. He said as long as I didn’t work for Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, or the like that I was welcome to practice my bookstore-lust photography. I got a couple good ones, but I kept getting distracted by books. Go figure.

The store closed at 7, so a time limit was forced upon me. Boo! Probably for the best. I spent the bulk of my real browsing time in the American and World Folklore section (interestingly, placed right beside the large LDS/Mormon section) and went home with three new used books. I still need to enter those into LibraryThing. Not tonight, though. I have to get up early for the last day of the film festival.

I was nodding off in front of my laptop last night while writing this, and then today (Thursday) has been a bit of a whirlwind without internet access. So just imagine that you were reading this Wednesday night.

My final masterpieces have been turned in for my Drawing I class and I took the final exam this morning. I’ll share those soon. I went home to pack, then Ben drove me to the airport (with only 1.7 trillion Utah Driver incidents along the way) where the security line was long and I didn’t have a seat assignment. When I checked at the gate, the agent printed out a little receipt with seat number 20C that turned out to be in the very last, and very windowless, row of the small plane.

However.

I sat next to a very friendly Brit named Phil, who turned out to be the manager of singer/songwriter Bobby Long. Bobby had been sitting on the other side of the aisle, but he moved up when two girls asked him to switch so they could sit together. Phil said he’s pretty shy, so if I’d been sitting next to him we might not have spoken at all.

Given the tight quarters and the fact that there was no freaking window for the poor passengers forced to sit in the very back row, insert pity party here, Phil and I fell into small talk pretty easily. When he revealed that he was three weeks in to a one-slash-two-year world tour with Bobby Long, I smiled and said, “oh!” but clearly had no idea who Bobby Long was.

Turns out he co-wrote the main song for the Twilight movie (which I have not seen, and have no real desire to see) and that thrust him head-on into famous… though according to Phil he’s “the real thing” when it comes to folk singing and songwriting. Which of course he’s going to say as his manager, but he struck me as being more sincere than the stereotypical manager/agent. Or maybe it was his sexy British accent.

Regardless, we chatted for nearly the whole ride, which is something I rarely do. Granted it was under two hours. We agreed that the back row of the plane has a special “gang” dynamic since we’re all stuck in the back.  Shaunette, the Memphis-based flight attendant who enthralled Phil with her accent and beautiful dark skin, was part of our gang when she sat in a pull-out seat in the aisle next to me during take-off and landing of the really bumpy flight. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic or overly sensitive to turbulence, because hoo boy.

Overall, my conversation with Phil was pretty normal. We talked about our families, the challenges of air travel, Ernest Hemingway, Neil Gaiman, Moxy Fruvous*, and, you know, the rigors of traveling the world playing sold-out gigs and becoming more and more of a recognizable public figure. I’m not one to get fangirlish over someone just because they’re famous, and Phil expressed appreciation for that. He referenced people whom he calls Shakers—those who instead of using actual words when they meet him and/or Bobby, they just shake or nod their heads a lot and make grunting half-words. Star-dazed, I’d say. I think I’ve seen enough celebrities, and had the opportunity to talk to a few**, to understand that they’re all humans and most likely overwhelmed by overbearing fans and I do not want to be THAT GUY.

Bobby had a gig in Denver that night, and since I’d told Phil that I was flying to Denver for my sister’s PhD defense, he invited me (with a plus-one) to come by the sold-out 350-person venue. As in, he would put my name on the list. Now that, in general, was enough to make me all giggly inside. I’ve never had my name on the list for a concert or anything like that.*** Schweeeeeet.

I wish it would have worked out, but ultimately it didn’t. Monique was pretty stressed while preparing for her defense on Thursday, so I decided that being with her was more important than attending a concert. Even if Bobby Long is some superstar 22-year-old folk sensation. Phil said that he’s planning a concert in (Colleen, are you listening?) Boise in November, so maybe Ben and I can drive in for that. Shaunette and I both had very good things to say about Boise, between screams from the two girls sitting across the aisle as we surfed the rough tide of the atmosphere in our pea-sized plane.

But Phil revealed his real motivation for the Boise show: he wants to visit Ketchum, Idaho. Boise will get to see Bobby Long because Phil is a HUGE fan of Ernest Hemingway. I found this very amusing, especially since I’m a huge Neil Gaiman fan, who is a (sort of ex-pat) British author. We each had a book out from our favorite authors. Except he hadn’t heard of Neil Gaiman. My jaw dropped and I cried a little, but then I figured “one less fan I have to beat down in line to meet him.”

In any case, staying with the fam turned out to be the right decision for the evening. Monique practiced her thesis presentation in front of the three of us on Wednesday afternoon, and it was pretty polished and pretty damn impressive. I wasn’t nearly as concerned as she was about her committee not passing her. Then we went out for dinner and afterward, while Monique pounded a few more molecules of information into her brain, I fell asleep while writing this blog entry.

*Moxy Fruvous is my favorite Canadian modern folk rock bands, but they’re no longer together. I swooned big time for hottie band member Jian Ghomeshi. At one point during today’s conversation, Paul mentioned meeting Billy Bob Thornton while swimming at a hotel pool in L.A., and I had to tell him about the time Billy Bob was a dick to my guy Jian on a radio talk interview this year.

**Writing that kind of slaps a pompous sticker on my face, but it’s not like I hang out with Brad Pitt when he’s in town or anything. (ZOMG pinch me now if that were true.) It’s just that I’ve been to a few geek conventions and I volunteer for Sundance, so I’m acclimating to being in the presence of celebrity-types. Uh, nevermind that maybe I wanted to lick Alia Shawkat’s face in June.

**I only imagine that if my name ever gets on a list or I get backstage passes, I will behave exactly as Wayne Campbell and Garth Algar did when they met Alice Cooper. Especially if local history is divulged.

I really think that I need to get one of these t-shirts. But first, I want to know why the dinosaur is wearing braces. That’s just ridiculous.

Thesaurus t-shirt from snorgtees

I’m just doing a quick PSA here to remind you to visit your local comic book store this Saturday to pick up some free comics.

Free Comic Book Day is an annual nationwide event sponsored by  industry representatives in publishing and distributing comics. If you haven’t been in a comic book specialty shop in a while (or *gasp* NEVER!), this is the day to go.

If you’re thinking to yourself that comics are just for kids and for those socially inept guys who live in their moms’ basements, well, you’re partially right. Comics are for them. But there’s a good chance that you’ll like some of them, too. Aside from the forever-ongoing Marvel and DC comics like Spiderman, X-Men, Batman, and Superman, there are a lot of literary and entertaining gems in the comic world.

The FCBD site has some basic information for those new to comics, but if you’re a “mature reader,” i.e you don’t mind the F-bomb or mature themes like sex and violence, I would recommend that you start out with the following Vertigo-imprint series that are now available in (multi-volume) book form: Fables, The Sandman, and Y: The Last Man. Fables is the only one that still has new issues coming out.

Want to start with something a little more tame but still really good? Try the complete collection of Bone comics. I would personally steer you away from ye olde Archie comics, though new ones are still being released on a regular basis.

If you have the opportunity to start some kids out on comics, or even just reading in general, there are lots of kid-friendly options including Pixar movie spin-offs and The Simpsons. I recently nabbed the first issue of The Muppet Show at Dragon’s Keep in Provo. It’s nothing spectacularly literary, but it’s fun and I’m a sucker for anything Muppet-related (even if I end up panning it).

So get thee to a local (participating) comic book store on Saturday and get thine free comics!

I just returned from my monthly League of Utah Writers meeting, where author Rebecca Shelley spoke about researching and submitting to the national publishing market. She logged in to the Publisher’s Marketplace and showed us via a projector what it was all about. I’m always fascinated to watch other people do things in internet browsers, like search and toggle between their open tabs or windows, because it’s different than how I do things, what with my alt+tabbing and my cmd+f’ing.

It was interesting to learn her tips and tricks for sending emails directly to editors—querying for fiction books—that are more likely to be read. Now I just need to get some of my writing to the point where it’s completed enough to submit! Querying nonfiction is a lot less intimidating to me. I think blogging has increased my comfort level with writing nonfiction.

While she was showing off the Publisher’s Marketplace website, I noticed that they have a Twitter feed (@PublishersLunch) so just now I was looking at the recent updates to see if it’s something I’d want to follow. I clicked through to an article titled “Trade paperbacks thrive in tough times” and was amused by this little snippet of marketing wisdom:

“If we want to appeal to a twentysomething audience, we have to do it at an affordable price,” says Carrie Kania of HarperPerennial, which will publish a record 100 or so paperback originals this year. “And a trade paperback is the price of a new CD.”

Ms. Kania is perhaps not yet aware that a large percentage of their target market doesn’t even bother with CDs anymore. It’s 2009. Time to start measuring in MP3s.

I watched the first Star Trek movie last night, in full, for the first time ever. Wow. It was… trippy. And long. Ben and I laughed to the point of crying during a couple parts… and I may have cried a Spock tear when it was all over. During the last part, (SPOILER) when Decker goes all sparkly, I couldn’t help but think of what the sparkly vampires supposedly look like in the movie Twilight. (It’s doubtful that I’ll read the books or see that movie, let’s be honest.)

Ben and I are going to attempt to watch all the Star Trek movies, in order, before seeing the new Star Trek movie that’s coming out on May 8. Sylar as Spock intrigues me. I hear that the new movie involves some time travel as Leonard Nimoy visits from the future as “Old Spock” to help his younger counterpart.

So, in line with Star Trek movie hype and the theme of time travel, I want to share a magazine flashback with you.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning up in the basement and came across a vault of Ben’s magazines from his childhood. During the 1980s—while I was playing black and white Macintosh games, devouring hundreds of library books, and reading Cricket magazines—Ben was taking apart electronics, learning how to program on a Commodore, and reading 3-2-1 Contact magazines. (Is is really surprising that GeekDad’s 10 Annoying Habits of a Geeky Spouse basically listed things that we love about each other?)

I found this gem from December 1986 with the enticing cover question, “Is Time Travel Possible?” The cover article includes kid-level coverage of several TV shows and movies basically by filling four pages with exciting photos of Dr. Who, Superman, Marty McFly, Time Bandits, and The Time Machine.

The secondary spread covers the then-new Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Click on the photo to get a PDF of the scan… it’s precious. I especially love the photo caption that says “Star Trek movies include special effects such as smoke and fire.” I mean, WOW!

Anything with the keyword geek in it captures my attention because I am always interested in its usage. Not just whether it’s being used as a noun or verb, but whether it’s used in an insulting or admiring manner and how the stereotype is changing over time.

When I assembled the first version of the Geek Test in 1999, the dictionary definition of geek was “1. An odd or ridiculous person. 2. A carnival performer whose show consists of bizarre acts, such as biting the head off a live chicken.”

In 2002, when I started creating innergeek.us and researching the nature of modern geeks, I was amazed to discover that the entry for geek on (then shiny/new) Wikipedia still reflected the “traditional” definition of geek. Though I’m no Wikipedian, I registered so that I was able to add more current information—and it’s been tweaked and updated over the years by others to create a very full meaning of the word geek.

So as an avid student of geekology, I naturally watched the first season of “Beauty and the Geek” when it aired on the CW network in 2006, plus a few episodes here and there in later seasons. I have mixed feelings about the show as it relates to the stereotype of geek.

Granted, it’s a reality show produced by Ashton Kutcher. But it’s only the third TV series to contain the word geek in the title—the first was the undervalued and prematurely canceled comedy-drama Freaks and Geeks in 1999-2000. Then there was the Comedy Central game show Beat the Geeks in 2001-2002.

Now, I like the idea of expanding people’s world views through forced cooperation between individuals with (apparently) little in common. Many of Beauty and the Geek’s participants also seem to come away from the show with a better sense of self. Or at least episodes are edited that way. What I don’t like, though, is the polarization of the two sides that perpetuate the stereotypes in the eyes of the viewer.

Back in December, I came across this casting call for geeks: Read more…

I am delighted to announce that yesterday evening, completely unprovoked, Ben took our relationship to a new level. He invited me to organize our CD collection.

What’s the big deal, right? It’s just a ginormous pile of plastic and digital music files.

Heh.

Okay, there are a couple things you need to understand before you can understand why this was such a big deal to me. When I was in elementary school—elementary school—I had a small bookshelf in my room where I kept my small collection of books in alphabetical order by title. My parents gave me a typesetting/rubber stamp set that I used to stamp my name in every book, as well as to make official-looking library cards for my family and visiting friends. And I kept index cards with the book titles and stamped due dates on them. I, uh, kind of really wanted to be a librarian when I grew up. (And also a veterinarian, a babysitter, and a writer, but that’s not really relevant to the story.)

By middle school, I switched to organizing my books alphabetically by author and then title. They stayed that way for many years through many moves. When Ben and I finally got bookshelves in our house a few years ago, I spent a very happy weekend pulling books out of boxes and shelving them in a loose Dewey Decimal order. Fiction is separated from non-fiction, which is grouped by subject and then alphabetically by author. It’s a little tricky because of the arrangement of the shelves. Ben understands my need to have my books organized, and doesn’t really care how I mix his in.

Now, about multimedia. Read more…

I have been unable to finish a blog entry lately, which is horrible considering the amount of crap that I’ve wanted to share. So, in the meantime, I hope you enjoy today’s xkcd.com comic that made me swell with enjoyment. The last panel made my day. (Perfect weather this morning also helped, but my semi-worthless evening definitely got a boost from another viewing of this comic.)

Oh, and if you’re not already an fan of xkcd, a “webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language,” you should seriously consider it. It’s one of the only comics that makes me love it a little more when I don’t always get the joke—because I know that other people wouldn’t necessarily get the ones that I do.

The word niche has been popping up everywhere in my life lately. Home, school, every damn book and periodical I’ve read in the past couple weeks. Perhaps you also experience word phenomena like this in your life from time to time?

What’s really been bugging me, however, is the pronunciation of the word. I don’t recall growing up hearing it one way or the other, and dictionaries include multiple ways of pronunciation: neesh, nitch, nish. For the most part, I say neesh, though I’m pretty sure I’ve said nitch and nish in the past—probably when repeating the word back to someone in conversation.

This past week, my marketing professor used the word multiple times while referring to niche markets, and she pronounces it nitch. The pronunciation really started grating on my nerves, not unlike times when Cincinnatians say pin instead of pen and when Utahns say fill instead of feel. (I’m aware that I have a little xeno-dialectic snobbery problem.)

I polled my Twitter followers, most of whom are American, to find out whether they say nitch or neesh. The results are:

• 6 say nitch
• 5 say neesh
• 2 are bilingual and say neesh in French but say nitch in English
• 2 avoid saying the word at all costs because of this confusion

So though the results lean toward nitch, the sample is not really large enough to reach a solid conclusion.

But it made me think about this word and why pronouncing it nitch bothers me. I’m not bothered by the sound—I don’t have an issue with the words which, witch, hitch, kitsch, pitch, stitch, or bitch—so what’s the big deal?

I think I found the root of my problem by researching the etymology of the word. Not surprisingly, it is derived from the French word nicher, which is pronounced nee-shay and means to nest. Which means that neesh is closer in pronunciation to the original word than nitch. I know some French, so I’m guessing my preference stems from that.

Other derived-from-French words that are spelled with a ch in English but are pronounced with a soft sh sound include quiche, cache, and microfiche. If you mispronounce those words, you might inadvertently say things like “Real men don’t eat kitsch.”

And that just doesn’t make much sense, since “real men” will eat pretty much anything.

So keep all of this in mind if pronouncing the word niche has previously caused you stress or confusion. Say it either way—I’m not going to start proselytizing that neesh is the only pronunciation because clearly nitch has its own little niche in English.

However, if your speech also includes words like exspecially, nuculer, or supposably, I will not feel bad about sticking my linguistic lessons all up in your face.