Who are you calling a freak?
O h my gosh, I'm such a geek.” You know the type. A babe in tortoiseshell glasses flippantly tossing about the statement, backing it with an admission of watching Big Bang Theory, or writing in a Moleskine journal, or knowing how to download a torrents. And thus
inadvertently kills, first, the nuances that distinguish a geek by misusing the word entirely, and, second, all the years of social alienation and untiring devotion real geeks suffer for their geekiness. I bet she doesn't even need those glasses.
The vitriol may seem disproportionate to the offense, but that's only because there are so many repeat offenders. Through a strange (some say
A. GET HIM TO THE GEEK
unfortunate) turn of events, the world has passed through a social wormhole into a parallel universe where geekdom isn't just an acceptable thing, it's a damn cool thing; an aspiration, not an affliction. I'm sure technology is somehow to blame here. And powerful sorcery.
But despite its new cultural weight,
them fools still haven’t figured out how to use the term “geek,” or its cousins, “nerd” and “dork,” properly in a sentence. Maybe it's because they can't be bothered. Or
such freakish creatures defy definition. Or because no one's ever puzzled out the basic rules of social-outcastism — until now. Yeah, okay, that last reason is probably the least likely, but then you wouldn't be able
to answer the next question to figure out
what kind of social outcast you are:
If you answered A, then your sort of singular obsession, distilled of all practical use or rational need, is clearly the makings of a geek. One can geek out over anything, really, from high fantasy to sneakers to naked mole rat mating behavioral patterns (although that does sound creepily like a fetish). Of course, nerds and savant types can also memorize the same useless trivia, and they do, but the thing here is not a categorical accumulation of trivia, not even a neurotic need to always be right. Here, trivia is a symptom of love. A geek is a lovesick fool who can think of nothing else but her beloved
all day, finding pleasure even in its most banal aspects and talking everyone to death about it. Seeking other whipped individuals, she forms fan clubs or drinking groups, or starts a blog. For instance, there's a geek out there that would appreciate the fact that in the 18th and 19th centuries the term “geek” referred to circus freaks, specializing in biting the heads off of chickens.
The label is also associated with Asian-level technological knowhow; say, someone who writes “programmer” or “CGI designer” under occupation. Then again, it's the same obsessive energy, only applied to the world of technology.
Question: You’ve died and gone to heaven, where you get to spend your days doing whatever the hell you like. You will most likely be found:
A.) Running JC's biggest forum and fan-fiction website — all that infinite access to back stories and trivial minutiae really upped your game to Heaven level;
B.) Writing an encyclopedia of all the answers to our unanswered questions, alphabetized, footnoted, and cross-referenced to all human knowledge. Who needs eternal joy when there's all this time for research? Maybe God will even look at your prototype for the Universe: beta version;
C.) In the midst of all His heavenly host, doing the chicken dance — alone;
D.) Singing alleluias and sh*t.
B. YOUR NERD READINGS ARE OFF THE CHART, CAPTAIN
If you answered B, then your voracious appetite for knowledge and solitary studious ways are 100-percent nerd. MENSA members, typically, but you don't actually need to be a genius — bookish, passably intelligent types also qualify. Nerds have the capacity for theories, advanced mental activities in general, and the long, lonely hours of research. But all that time with formulas and libraries sometimes leaves them lacking in the social department, leading non-nerds to create their own formula: high IQ equals low EQ. You can blame that much brainpower for the mad scientist and evil genius types throughout pop-culture history. Maybe the migraines make ‘em cranky.
C. THE UNBEARABLE DORKINESS OF BEING
If you answered C, then you are a dork. And if there's one thing
that defines a dork’s every word and move, it’s unadulterated, painful-to-witness awkwardness. The kind that makes you run from the living room in shame while watching one of those movies where everything goes wrong, unable to bear the oblivious protagonist's social suicide. Unless you're vibrating on the same strange frequency,
it’s like watching a beached whale flap about on the sand — you just can't look away. Of course, at some less-than-normal point in our lives — corrective dental headgear, above-average hairiness, or shoulder pads not withstanding — we've all been that hapless cetacean. Albeit less sleek and adept at swimming.
Sometimes it can be the mark of a true genius, someone wholly and spontaneously original. Other times it's someone so socially off-tangent, they're like a moon orbiting a planet in a galaxy far, far, farther away.
D. EVERYONE ELSE
If you answered D, then you are neither geek, nor dork, nor nerd. But don't rejoice so quickly. These days, being different is the only way to stand out. With the exposure and access we have to everything that was ever written, thought, created, or performed, it's standard to be a little freakish. In fact, it'd be boring if you weren't obsessed with something, researching something, trying something. I mean, just get into something, for heaven's sakes. So, who's normal now? It ain't you.
Points of clarification: As you’ve probably figured out by now, the definitions of geeks, dorks, and nerds are completely, hopelessly subjective; to your average Martian the three act, talk, and look like the same thing. But what makes them useful is that each type is assigned one distinct characteristic, accounting for the three major factors in being a loser in high school. Of course, all three can and do overlap, especially dorkiness. But it's possible to be one without the other two.