A Nerd's Lament

I won't reprise the common theme that "nerd" is the new "cool". In fact, in classic mid-'90's kid-sitcom form, a lot of nerds have turned their newfound fame into real jerkitude (see: Zuck and company, start-up chic). A lot of nerds are making a lot of money; more of them are creating viral phenomena; even more are coding their way to a brighter tomorrow. 

But back to the revolution a la late-'90's kid-sitcom/movie. Consider: invariably, a group of friends (usually social rejects aka: nerds) laments its exclusion from cool kid trends, parties, etc. All of a sudden, one friend gets an apparent social rocket-boost in the form of an invitation to sit with the cool kids at lunch, go to the party, or date a jock. By the middle of the movie, it's clear to everyone but the protagonist that the "cool kids" are the real antagonists! The friends plead for a return to regular boring nerdisms, but the protagonist is intoxicated by his/her newfound "friends" and status. By the end, used up and abused by heartless jocks and cheerleaders and others from the higher social strata, the nerdy protagonist returns to his/her group of loving friends. Order is restored in high fashion as the nerds claim victory.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), today's nerds grew up with those shows. But as corporate structure moves in to take over the creative and even technical processes of the world's greatest experiments, they are sinking millions and/or billions of dollars into these companies. With the money comes obligations. Even the knights of nerdhood, the gaming industry, has been infiltrated with a bottom-line mentality. Great games are disappearing or switching to subscription models. Virtual "social" games are being cloned and spun-off and selling imaginary currency and goods and upgrades. The greatest gamers used to be able to snipe from a few hundred yards, learn leveling systems and class combinations to create balanced characters, or crush cases of Mountain Dew on an all-night Diablo II dungeon crawl; their devotion to gaming and their skill determined their dominance. Now, the biggest suckers take the trophies, spending hundreds of dollars on sub-par games and expansions and forfeiting $14.95 a month.

Oh, and don't forget that obscure fashion choices and what I can only describe as "weird" is "trendy" now, so nerds or faux-nerds have to constantly change things and re-hash what it means to be chic. Authentic or organic or any other nerdy, trendy adjective comes with a hefty price tag, and nerds are so high on their skills that they take advantage of the fact that there isn't a price standard for tech/creative work and charge ridiculous amounts of money for any kind of work to feed a growing, evolving taste for trends.

So who are the suckers? You'd think the suckers are the ones sinking money into companies with no guarantee and little hope that they won't flame out or sell for little to no profit in a couple of years. You would think the suckers are the hipsters and really annoying faux-nerds trying to keep up with the trends. And, really, a lot of nerds are snickering in derision at the "cool kids" trying to keep up with the "social outcasts". But I think the suckers are the nerds. Reading candid interviews and early statements and all kinds of things that come out of the nerd elite, one could only conclude that they are mostly jerks. Looking at a gaming industry that used to produce real quality work, complete with rich storylines, unique combat systems, and challenging gameplay, one might only find a few shining exceptions to the devolution of games into "gamification" schemes. Examining the current state of the nerd, I'd say the suckers are the nerds.

I just wonder if...I just hope that the nerds will eventually realize it, rise above it, and come together with the chorus of  nerds lying in wait for a glorious mid-to-late-'90's coup de grace for this tyranny of trendiness.

Forgive the rant. In other Nerd News, THIS GUY has some incredible and thought-provoking articles on lessons learned from Star Trek and Star Wars, including Five Leadership Lessons from Jean-Luc Picard and Five Leadership Mistakes of the Galactic Empire. Go ahead, nerds: salivate. Go ahead, Wife: roll your eyes.

Relaunch

After over a year out of commission, I've decided to relaunch the blog.

Allow me to wax ridiculously dramatic with a pointless phoenix metaphor.

You didn't miss much, really. Emily just turned a year old, Brodie is three years old now, Kimberly and I are working together at Caruth-Hale Funeral Home, and I'm working towards my Funeral Director's License. We've got a little monstrous Jack Russel terrier, too (his name is Marvin).

It was really difficult for me to decide against attending law school. After all, it had been my lifelong dream to be an attorney, advocating for justice and helping to improve government here and around the world. After I graduated from Henderson with a Political Science degree, my father-in-law offered me the opportunity to join the family's funeral firm full-time. Since I had been helping out part-time, I had an idea what this would involve.

I had no idea, however, that I would fall in love with the ministry that can happen in a funeral operation. I know it isn't like this everywhere; some funeral "professionals" give society ample justification to find fault with the industry. But I can honestly say (without a bribe) that my colleagues are genuinely dedicated to doing all that they can do to bring honor and healing to hurting families and to give all the glory to God.

At the end of this week, I'm headed to West Africa to realize a dream of mine-- to use the French skills I've built in school to make a difference on that continent. But what I have come to realize is that I don't have to be building governments in the Third World or see my name in lights or on buildings; I make a difference every day. Through my work as a Funeral Director. Through my efforts with the Hugh O'Brian Youth Leadership Foundation. And, most importantly, through the level of dedication I give to my family.

Hopefully, you'll all be willing to check back once in a while to share with me the thrill present in success and the lessons learned from defeat.