There are all kinds of people in the world. And each one can be boiled down to the stereotypes of high school: the jocks, the cheerleaders, the student body presidents, the brains, the weirdos, the rebels, and so on and so forth. But I’m not any of those.
I’m a dork. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and there’s no way around it. I live in a living learning community for women in math, science and engineering. I’ve been a band geek since the fifth grade. I was on the math team and scholastic bowl in high school. I do jigsaw puzzles on weekends. I know more about Harry Potter than American history. I once read the entire Chronicles of Narnia in five days. I spent the night of my senior prom playing video games at my best friend’s house. I know the difference between a baritone and a euphonium, both of which most people have never even heard of. I gave my TI-83 calculator a name (Gary, if you were wondering).
Most people would take one look at those credentials and equate me to a loser. But that would be a gross misrepresentation, and also rather hypocritical. Everybody has something about them that makes them a dork. Know the last ten winners of the Tony Award for Best Play? Theatre dork. Can name every baseball pitcher to throw a no-hitter? Sports dork. Seen every performance by your favorite band within a two-hundred mile radius? Music dork.
These kind of qualilities don’t make a person a “loser.” But there seems to be a magical threshold at which having a multitude of them gives you that moniker. But I’m not a loser: I’m a DORK. And you probably are too; you might just disguise it better than I do.
Basically, a person is considered a dork when they are passionate about something that the average person isn’t. Matchbox cars, American Gladiators, unicorns: unless you’re seven years old, having a passion for these would lead most people to think you’re a dork..
So why does being a dork have such negative connotations? I like being a dork. All my friends are dorks. We go out and do dorky things together. We have fun sharing in each other’s dorkiness. Being a dork never hurt anyone. We dorks just go about our dorky lives, doing our dorky duties, and trying not to scare anyone by being overly dorky.
So next time you feel self-conscious about the fact that you know every C-3PO line from the Star Wars saga, just think of how the person sitting next you might have every Beanie Baby ever released (including three Ziggy the Zebra’s).
I’m a dork, and I believe that’s a cool thing to be.
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