I learned today how important it is to take good notes in class. There are so many things that I did not realize that we covered in class--things I never remember the teacher talking about.
For instance, in reviewing my notes, I learned that one naval invasion failed because the people had a ship-reek. All I can say is, stinks for them.
I also learned that one of the French kings had to worry about his "bother" rebelling against him. I mean, if I called my brother a bother all the time, he probably wouldn't like me, either.
Who knew that our world has been shaped by events such as these? I mean, I have often heard that fact is stranger than fiction, but I had no idea . . .
Let's just say that my final essay should be filled with some fresh historical perspective!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A Modern Account of Making Parchment (on a Budget)
For a school-related project, I have been working on making vellum. Point of clarification: parchment is a generic term for prepared writing surfaces made from animal skin; vellum is parchment made from calf skins, specifically.
This is not a project for the faint of heart! In my research, I have unearthed very few current accounts of the process, and none that really outlined the amount of work that goes into it.
There are a number of steps that I had not really thought about before beginning this project. For instance, I had not really thought about having to THOROUGHLY rinse the skins before doing anything else. When I say "thoroughly rinse," I mean letting them soak in baths of cold water for only an hour at a time, and changing that water out every hour--even in the middle of the night--for two days.
After this, we put the hides into a slaked lime solution to help us de-hair them. (Just so you know, you are supposed to get all of the extra flesh off before putting the hides in the slaked lime. We know that now, for what it is worth.)
We basically left them alone at that point, only going out to stir them once a day for about a week. We should have stirred them more often, but it is really hard to juggle school and a school project . . . funny that teachers, with all of their education, have not figured that one out yet. (Either that, or they are just sadistic.)
The really fun part about all of this was, we had to dress up every time we wanted to stir them. We wore rubber gloves and goggles, because we decided we really did not want a first hand experience of how slaked lime works.
Once the hair began to slip out easily when we pulled on it with our slippery gloves, we hauled the hides out of the lime and started scraping them. Because we were on a budget, we pulled the hides over some thirty gallon trash cans, and we used knives with duct tape wrapped around the tip of the blade so that we could use it like a two-handled knife. We still got to wear gloves at this stage, because the lime is still active in the hides for a while. It is hard to get it all out, and requires another thorough rinsing, which you only want to do after you are finished scraping it.
Actually, this is very useful, because we ignorant students dumped our slaked lime out as soon as we started scraping. Hides are not easy to de-hair, especially with sharp clunky knives and giant rubber gloves. I've heard that dull blades work better, because they actually scrape instead of slice. With our equipment, the hair stayed on in clumps. There were several times where we had to soak them for a while and try again later.
Being the brilliant parchment makers we are, we tried to dissolve the unwanted portions of the other side of the hide in slaked lime, too. We discovered the reason you remove all you can before the lime bath: if you leave it on, it stains the hide.
Even after the lime bath, though, we still had to scrape everything. The flesh side is really hard to scrape while wearing rubber gloves. For this side, though, it is kind of nice to have a sharp knife, as long as you remember to keep the blade angled away from the hide itself. The part of the skin that you want to preserve is slightly tougher than the rest of it, but it is still very easy to accidentally slice through it.
The main lesson we have learned so far is that scraping hides takes a very long time. We have four hides. There were two of us scraping for almost four hours each, and I put in an additional four or five hours by myself. We have gotten the flesh side semi-presentable on two hides, and we have started de-hairing both of these hides. We probably do not have either hide even half done at this point, though.
With our combined times, we have spent nearly thirteen hours scraping hides, and I do not think that we even have the equivalent of one hide scraped yet. It is definitely time intensive. It is also back-breaking work, and the smell and sight does remain at the back of your mind for days.
That is as far as we have gotten on our project so far. I will probably write more when (and if) we manage to make some more progress.
I think I am starting to realize why there were so few books during the middle ages. Apparently, it took 170 calf skins to make the Gutenberg Bible. Even if some other manuscripts were smaller projects, the amount of work put into even one skin would certainly delay the process. I also think you would only want to record the REALLY important things on vellum.
This is not a project for the faint of heart! In my research, I have unearthed very few current accounts of the process, and none that really outlined the amount of work that goes into it.
There are a number of steps that I had not really thought about before beginning this project. For instance, I had not really thought about having to THOROUGHLY rinse the skins before doing anything else. When I say "thoroughly rinse," I mean letting them soak in baths of cold water for only an hour at a time, and changing that water out every hour--even in the middle of the night--for two days.
After this, we put the hides into a slaked lime solution to help us de-hair them. (Just so you know, you are supposed to get all of the extra flesh off before putting the hides in the slaked lime. We know that now, for what it is worth.)
We basically left them alone at that point, only going out to stir them once a day for about a week. We should have stirred them more often, but it is really hard to juggle school and a school project . . . funny that teachers, with all of their education, have not figured that one out yet. (Either that, or they are just sadistic.)
The really fun part about all of this was, we had to dress up every time we wanted to stir them. We wore rubber gloves and goggles, because we decided we really did not want a first hand experience of how slaked lime works.
Once the hair began to slip out easily when we pulled on it with our slippery gloves, we hauled the hides out of the lime and started scraping them. Because we were on a budget, we pulled the hides over some thirty gallon trash cans, and we used knives with duct tape wrapped around the tip of the blade so that we could use it like a two-handled knife. We still got to wear gloves at this stage, because the lime is still active in the hides for a while. It is hard to get it all out, and requires another thorough rinsing, which you only want to do after you are finished scraping it.
Actually, this is very useful, because we ignorant students dumped our slaked lime out as soon as we started scraping. Hides are not easy to de-hair, especially with sharp clunky knives and giant rubber gloves. I've heard that dull blades work better, because they actually scrape instead of slice. With our equipment, the hair stayed on in clumps. There were several times where we had to soak them for a while and try again later.
Being the brilliant parchment makers we are, we tried to dissolve the unwanted portions of the other side of the hide in slaked lime, too. We discovered the reason you remove all you can before the lime bath: if you leave it on, it stains the hide.
Even after the lime bath, though, we still had to scrape everything. The flesh side is really hard to scrape while wearing rubber gloves. For this side, though, it is kind of nice to have a sharp knife, as long as you remember to keep the blade angled away from the hide itself. The part of the skin that you want to preserve is slightly tougher than the rest of it, but it is still very easy to accidentally slice through it.
The main lesson we have learned so far is that scraping hides takes a very long time. We have four hides. There were two of us scraping for almost four hours each, and I put in an additional four or five hours by myself. We have gotten the flesh side semi-presentable on two hides, and we have started de-hairing both of these hides. We probably do not have either hide even half done at this point, though.
With our combined times, we have spent nearly thirteen hours scraping hides, and I do not think that we even have the equivalent of one hide scraped yet. It is definitely time intensive. It is also back-breaking work, and the smell and sight does remain at the back of your mind for days.
That is as far as we have gotten on our project so far. I will probably write more when (and if) we manage to make some more progress.
I think I am starting to realize why there were so few books during the middle ages. Apparently, it took 170 calf skins to make the Gutenberg Bible. Even if some other manuscripts were smaller projects, the amount of work put into even one skin would certainly delay the process. I also think you would only want to record the REALLY important things on vellum.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Calligraphy: An Ancient Art
"Calligraphy" comes from a Greek term meaning "beautiful writing." There are more fonts in calligraphy than there are on your computer. (Random fact: Most computer fonts were actually invented by calligraphers.) It is most often associated with the works of monks in the Middle Ages, but its roots are far deeper than that. Technically, its history traces down from all of the ancient forms of writing, from Egyptian hieroglyphics to Chinese characters to the symbols on the bottom of Phoenician shipping products.
Because of my love for random facts and histories, I took it upon myself to become an expert on the subject. (I took a class about a year ago. Of the thousands of fonts that are out there, I can now do two or three.) I am really not sure how to describe calligraphy. I once heard it called "the dance of the pen." As much as I like the imagery, I am not sure it really gets at the essence of the art. There is so much concentration involved. As my instructor once said, you work on calligraphy in the hope that you can eventually produce something that makes you pause and say "Wow. That is what a letter is supposed to look like."
To an outsider, it may seem like a lot of work for nothing. I do not think so. I have never been able to enjoy a moment of true awe at my own work, but I still feel like I have been able to get inside the beauty of letters. Calligraphy makes letters, words, even entire pages come alive. I have always enjoyed looking at the work of ancient calligraphers. It seems three dimensional in comparison to the world of flat, mechanical print.
Look at the maps on Lord of the Rings, and compare them to the maps we use. We have so much information on ours, but they are flat and lifeless. They are only a tool, used for the sake of gaining information. The maps on Lord of the Rings are alive. Even though they were just made for a story, they have history. There may be less information, but the stuff that is there pulls you in. That is what calligraphy does. It shows you the life inside the letters, and it builds them together until you can finally see the thought they are trying to communicate.
I realize all of this sounds a bit poetic, or eccentric, or . . . something, but studying it really has changed the way that I look at writing. It shouldn't be such a big deal. After all, letters are meant to be in the background. We are supposed to be able to overlook them so that we can pay attention to the information that we need. Still, if I really like a story, I will reread it. The stories that I like the most have more to them that what you see initially. There is something beneath the surface, something deeper, something you don't notice the first time. Each time you return to the story, there is a new discovery to be made.
Calligraphy is like that. In the better fonts, the letters are so clear, well-balanced, and flow together so well that the mind can skip over them straight into the information it needs. But, even after you have the information, there is another level. Unlike most mechanical print, calligraphy is beautiful even if you are not paying attention to the information. Writing with it, I feel like I am continuing an ancient and glorious tradition. Really, calligraphy was the beginning of knowledge--before it, there was no way to record thought. A person could only know what he could personally remember. Calligraphy was invented as a way to preserve knowledge for its own sake. But, at the same time, the information was recorded in a form that was beautiful, just for the sake of being beautiful. It is the only art-form I know that can appeal directly to either the intellect or the imagination. And it is ancient, mysterious, and multi-faceted. What else can an arbitrary academic ask for?
Because of my love for random facts and histories, I took it upon myself to become an expert on the subject. (I took a class about a year ago. Of the thousands of fonts that are out there, I can now do two or three.) I am really not sure how to describe calligraphy. I once heard it called "the dance of the pen." As much as I like the imagery, I am not sure it really gets at the essence of the art. There is so much concentration involved. As my instructor once said, you work on calligraphy in the hope that you can eventually produce something that makes you pause and say "Wow. That is what a letter is supposed to look like."
To an outsider, it may seem like a lot of work for nothing. I do not think so. I have never been able to enjoy a moment of true awe at my own work, but I still feel like I have been able to get inside the beauty of letters. Calligraphy makes letters, words, even entire pages come alive. I have always enjoyed looking at the work of ancient calligraphers. It seems three dimensional in comparison to the world of flat, mechanical print.
Look at the maps on Lord of the Rings, and compare them to the maps we use. We have so much information on ours, but they are flat and lifeless. They are only a tool, used for the sake of gaining information. The maps on Lord of the Rings are alive. Even though they were just made for a story, they have history. There may be less information, but the stuff that is there pulls you in. That is what calligraphy does. It shows you the life inside the letters, and it builds them together until you can finally see the thought they are trying to communicate.
I realize all of this sounds a bit poetic, or eccentric, or . . . something, but studying it really has changed the way that I look at writing. It shouldn't be such a big deal. After all, letters are meant to be in the background. We are supposed to be able to overlook them so that we can pay attention to the information that we need. Still, if I really like a story, I will reread it. The stories that I like the most have more to them that what you see initially. There is something beneath the surface, something deeper, something you don't notice the first time. Each time you return to the story, there is a new discovery to be made.
Calligraphy is like that. In the better fonts, the letters are so clear, well-balanced, and flow together so well that the mind can skip over them straight into the information it needs. But, even after you have the information, there is another level. Unlike most mechanical print, calligraphy is beautiful even if you are not paying attention to the information. Writing with it, I feel like I am continuing an ancient and glorious tradition. Really, calligraphy was the beginning of knowledge--before it, there was no way to record thought. A person could only know what he could personally remember. Calligraphy was invented as a way to preserve knowledge for its own sake. But, at the same time, the information was recorded in a form that was beautiful, just for the sake of being beautiful. It is the only art-form I know that can appeal directly to either the intellect or the imagination. And it is ancient, mysterious, and multi-faceted. What else can an arbitrary academic ask for?
Monday, May 3, 2010
College Students Will Be College Students
Of the many interesting ways to spend a weekend (finishing chores, hiking, watching movies, going to a ballgame, etc), I have found that spectator sports can be by far the most entertaining. My current favorite is "What could possibly go wrong?" On a college campus, there are many opportunities to play this game.
This weekend alone, I have either witnessed or heard of many very well-thought-out activities that, strangely enough, ended poorly. For instance, how were sophomore guys to know that doing chin-ups on a pipe in their dorm room could cause a leak? Also, since the pipe happened to carry water for the sprinklers in their fire alarm system, how were they to guess that it might also set off the fire alarm?
How was a sleepwalker to know that turning in a paper they typed when asleep might, possibly have adverse effects on their GPA?
I was also impressed by the people who decided to throw a party without getting the RAs involved. How were they to know that opening windows and blaring music was not the best way of flying under the radar?
Being the last weekend before finals, this Friday, one genius decided to give us a classic instance of "What could possibly go wrong?" He decided that showing up drunk for classes was perfectly acceptable. Not only that, he decided that that day, of all days, was the perfect time to become an over-achiever. He came, prepared and willing to discuss topics in class. In my physics class, he awed us all by his insight and intelligence when he asked how the flex capacitor from "Back to the Future" worked.
But he did not stop there. One of my friends told me that he attended their class that day, too. He was not enrolled, he had never attended the class throughout the semester, but as my friend said, he was sure there that day, asking questions and taking notes.
I suppose he emerged relatively unscathed, but these incidents all bring to mind some of the practical advice of one of my professors. He would always tell us that there are two kinds of stupid in the world: there are those people who do stupid things, and then there are those people who do the stupid things and let everyone know about them. I guess my professor probably liked spectator sports, too. Maybe that is why he chose to teach on a college campus...
This weekend alone, I have either witnessed or heard of many very well-thought-out activities that, strangely enough, ended poorly. For instance, how were sophomore guys to know that doing chin-ups on a pipe in their dorm room could cause a leak? Also, since the pipe happened to carry water for the sprinklers in their fire alarm system, how were they to guess that it might also set off the fire alarm?
How was a sleepwalker to know that turning in a paper they typed when asleep might, possibly have adverse effects on their GPA?
I was also impressed by the people who decided to throw a party without getting the RAs involved. How were they to know that opening windows and blaring music was not the best way of flying under the radar?
Being the last weekend before finals, this Friday, one genius decided to give us a classic instance of "What could possibly go wrong?" He decided that showing up drunk for classes was perfectly acceptable. Not only that, he decided that that day, of all days, was the perfect time to become an over-achiever. He came, prepared and willing to discuss topics in class. In my physics class, he awed us all by his insight and intelligence when he asked how the flex capacitor from "Back to the Future" worked.
But he did not stop there. One of my friends told me that he attended their class that day, too. He was not enrolled, he had never attended the class throughout the semester, but as my friend said, he was sure there that day, asking questions and taking notes.
I suppose he emerged relatively unscathed, but these incidents all bring to mind some of the practical advice of one of my professors. He would always tell us that there are two kinds of stupid in the world: there are those people who do stupid things, and then there are those people who do the stupid things and let everyone know about them. I guess my professor probably liked spectator sports, too. Maybe that is why he chose to teach on a college campus...
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Useless History
The origin of the words "buccaneer" and "barbeque":
Shockingly enough, the origins of these words are related. When the Spaniards started coming over to America, they left cows on many of the Caribbean islands so that if their sailors hit a storm or were lost at sea, they could have food until they got their bearings. Later, the pirates started to use these islands as hideouts. They would carry grills called "buccans" with them to utilize the forethought of the Spanish. Hence, the pirates became known as "buccaneers." One of these buccaneers was named Barbeque.
So, the story could be told in a single sentence: The name of a grill became synonymous with pirate, and the name of a pirate became synonymous with a grill. I guess turnabout is fair play.
(A number of other explanations are available for the origin of "barbeque." According to the more plausible sources, for instance, "barbeque" may also be derived from a word common to several of the native languages: "barabicu," meaning "sacred fire pit." But stories involving pirates are always cooler!)
Shockingly enough, the origins of these words are related. When the Spaniards started coming over to America, they left cows on many of the Caribbean islands so that if their sailors hit a storm or were lost at sea, they could have food until they got their bearings. Later, the pirates started to use these islands as hideouts. They would carry grills called "buccans" with them to utilize the forethought of the Spanish. Hence, the pirates became known as "buccaneers." One of these buccaneers was named Barbeque.
So, the story could be told in a single sentence: The name of a grill became synonymous with pirate, and the name of a pirate became synonymous with a grill. I guess turnabout is fair play.
(A number of other explanations are available for the origin of "barbeque." According to the more plausible sources, for instance, "barbeque" may also be derived from a word common to several of the native languages: "barabicu," meaning "sacred fire pit." But stories involving pirates are always cooler!)
Thursday, April 15, 2010
A Complaint
Have you ever noticed how incredibly annoying it is to have long gaps in the conversation? You just keep waiting for the other person to finally respond, but it never happens. By the time they actually say something, you hardly even remember what the conversation was about to begin with.
These problems are especially compounded with written conversations. It sometimes seems like you have to wait forever. The person on the other end should have enough time to say something! They could at least acknowledge that they received the message. There is nothing more annoying than waiting for the next email, text message, or blog post! And then, when they finally do respond, it is usually something incredibly dull and unrelated to the topic. There was one blog that had not published anything in almost four months, and the first new post simply talked about how irritating it was to wait for someone to respond. How hypocritical!
And, as if that was not enough, this person misspeled a few wirds, too. I think that if you are going to take the time to publish a post, you should take the time to find a worthwhile subject, instead of complaining about the first thing that pops into your head!
These problems are especially compounded with written conversations. It sometimes seems like you have to wait forever. The person on the other end should have enough time to say something! They could at least acknowledge that they received the message. There is nothing more annoying than waiting for the next email, text message, or blog post! And then, when they finally do respond, it is usually something incredibly dull and unrelated to the topic. There was one blog that had not published anything in almost four months, and the first new post simply talked about how irritating it was to wait for someone to respond. How hypocritical!
And, as if that was not enough, this person misspeled a few wirds, too. I think that if you are going to take the time to publish a post, you should take the time to find a worthwhile subject, instead of complaining about the first thing that pops into your head!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Hobbies
I think everyone should have a hobby. I have been busy, studying for tests, trying to keep ahead of work, and fulfilling obligations with friends. Of course, the obligations were just that--obligations that merely added to the hectic events of the week. I can't decide which is harder: trying to be there for everyone who needs you or realizing no one really needs you. I seem to face both situations every so often. Everyone always seems to need help at the same time, or they are all perfectly happy on their own. I can never help just one person at a time!
This was one of the weeks where everyone needed something. Stress compounded stress. Several once-in-a-life-time (or at least, once-in-a-college-career) events were also available for this week only. I could not cut anything out of my schedule. Weeks like these have taught me that a person really can get pretty much everything done if he plans properly and focuses on just one day at a time. Sadly, they have also taught me that burn out sets in fairly quickly. The only solution I have found is to have a hobby.
It seems the most foolish idea in the world: to solve the problem of an overflowing schedule by adding yet another activity. Ironically, it is the insanity that enables me to remain sane. Watching TV shows or playing a game on the computer in the few moments I can horde for myself, I find myself still stressing about all of the stuff I have to do as soon as I am done. Once I get off, reality sucks me back into its vortex, and I respond, shoulders bowed, feet barely able to make it off the ground, reluctantly obeying the inevitable.
Hobbies, however, defy logic. They require concentration. I get involved in them, invest myself in them to the point of forgetting everything on my agenda. By the time reality punches me in the face, I am ready to spring after it. I am never sure whether I rush to follow and enjoy all it can offer me or if I am merely trying to fight it off. Either way, I am just happy I can move! I don't feel like I am walking on a treadmill, spending precious energy getting nowhere!
Time is too special to waste doing nothing. Waste it doing something you enjoy!
This was one of the weeks where everyone needed something. Stress compounded stress. Several once-in-a-life-time (or at least, once-in-a-college-career) events were also available for this week only. I could not cut anything out of my schedule. Weeks like these have taught me that a person really can get pretty much everything done if he plans properly and focuses on just one day at a time. Sadly, they have also taught me that burn out sets in fairly quickly. The only solution I have found is to have a hobby.
It seems the most foolish idea in the world: to solve the problem of an overflowing schedule by adding yet another activity. Ironically, it is the insanity that enables me to remain sane. Watching TV shows or playing a game on the computer in the few moments I can horde for myself, I find myself still stressing about all of the stuff I have to do as soon as I am done. Once I get off, reality sucks me back into its vortex, and I respond, shoulders bowed, feet barely able to make it off the ground, reluctantly obeying the inevitable.
Hobbies, however, defy logic. They require concentration. I get involved in them, invest myself in them to the point of forgetting everything on my agenda. By the time reality punches me in the face, I am ready to spring after it. I am never sure whether I rush to follow and enjoy all it can offer me or if I am merely trying to fight it off. Either way, I am just happy I can move! I don't feel like I am walking on a treadmill, spending precious energy getting nowhere!
Time is too special to waste doing nothing. Waste it doing something you enjoy!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Desires of the Heart
I was not exactly on the look out for inspirational quotes when I heard this, so I cannot give proper attribution. Beyond the fact that the quoted person was a priest who had a prestigious degree in some sort of Aero-space-sciency-something-or-other, I don't know who said it. I guess that is okay, though, because I can't do justice to the quote, either.
Still, I thought the basic idea of the quote was profound: Look at the universe. See all of the stars, all of the planets, all of the infinite wonder. It is beautiful, amazing, and intricate. And all of it combined cannot measure up to the desires of a single human heart.
Still, I thought the basic idea of the quote was profound: Look at the universe. See all of the stars, all of the planets, all of the infinite wonder. It is beautiful, amazing, and intricate. And all of it combined cannot measure up to the desires of a single human heart.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The Origins of the Nerd
Is it possible to pinpoint the precise moment when a person becomes a nerd? One would think it would be easy to see the warning signs as a sudoku book gradually fills and Minesweeper becomes one of the most frequently used applications on the computer. Of course, the emergence of the nerd might occur later in the developmental stage, as when the screen name "A Academic" possesses enough grammatical irony to both amuse and pain him.
"A Academic" grates on the nerves. Constantly, the name demands revision. The insertion of the proper article would transform the name into "An Academic," a much smoother and more intelligent sound. Sadly, the name of the blog and the pun would both be lost through the transformation. Such is the cost of being arbitrary in the search for academics.
Perhaps the first sign of a true nerd is the posting of a blog about the origins of nerdiness . . .
Whenever the nerd is born, however, he enters a needlessly vicious world. From the moment of his appearance, people are willing to bombarge him with mistaken grammar, faulty facts, or flawed arguments. The pain may even be self-inflicted, as when his screen name wavers between torment and a source of amusement.
These slight annoyances are, of course, the least of the nerd's worries. A far greater danger exists in the actual application of the word "nerd." Even the dictionary provides a less-than-favorable definition, calling him "socially inept." Worse, as unusual and wrong as it may seem, the dictionary definition contains no reference to a nerd's innate intelligence! One would assume that such an essential quality would be listed, but sadly any reference to intelligence was reserved for the geek. Even the geek could only claim talent in math and science, leaving all other fields barren of socially inept prodigies.
What of the brilliant but flighty Beethoven, who once entered a restaurant, seated himself, and then asked for the check without ever having ordered anything? What of Socrates, the short, ugly, unkempt philosopher whose life's accomplishments consisted mainly of revealing the stupidity of his contemporaries (for which intrusive criticism he was killed)?
Despite their embodiment of brilliance and obvious social ineptitude, these individuals are labeled "genius" rather than "nerd" or even "geek." Although most nerds may lack their sheer brilliance, it is a source of pride that few nerds exhibit such an extreme want of social grace. In fact, very few nerds have been sentenced to death for their difficulties in society.
The dictionary also fails to take into account that closet nerds might exist, nerds with social skills who bury their natural tendencies towards useless knowledge under a guise of normalcy. These nerds, especially, deserve the right to far nicer connotations for their given label. Is it really too much to ask that the name be re-defined to permit kinder thoughts to accompany the word "nerd?"
Indeed, "nerd" would be far better defined as "an inquisitive person, who longs to discover all knowledge about any subject. The person you would want on your team in a game of Trivial Pursuit." For instance, who but a nerd would discover the speculation that his label may have originated under the pen of Dr. Seuss? (He admitted a Nerd into his menagerie in If I Ran the Zoo.)
Clearly, the nerd deserves a better reputation than his current one. His afflictions are well-documented in the personal histories of geniuses, and he enjoys the prestigious background of a cameo appearance in a children's book. Only two arguments can logically follow from this fact: either the nerd should be awarded far more respect, or he should be locked in Seuss's zoo. A word of warning to all who undertake to solve this dilemma: nerds in cages cannot learn social skills and will make very hostile teammates in Trivial Pursuit.
"A Academic" grates on the nerves. Constantly, the name demands revision. The insertion of the proper article would transform the name into "An Academic," a much smoother and more intelligent sound. Sadly, the name of the blog and the pun would both be lost through the transformation. Such is the cost of being arbitrary in the search for academics.
Perhaps the first sign of a true nerd is the posting of a blog about the origins of nerdiness . . .
Whenever the nerd is born, however, he enters a needlessly vicious world. From the moment of his appearance, people are willing to bombarge him with mistaken grammar, faulty facts, or flawed arguments. The pain may even be self-inflicted, as when his screen name wavers between torment and a source of amusement.
These slight annoyances are, of course, the least of the nerd's worries. A far greater danger exists in the actual application of the word "nerd." Even the dictionary provides a less-than-favorable definition, calling him "socially inept." Worse, as unusual and wrong as it may seem, the dictionary definition contains no reference to a nerd's innate intelligence! One would assume that such an essential quality would be listed, but sadly any reference to intelligence was reserved for the geek. Even the geek could only claim talent in math and science, leaving all other fields barren of socially inept prodigies.
What of the brilliant but flighty Beethoven, who once entered a restaurant, seated himself, and then asked for the check without ever having ordered anything? What of Socrates, the short, ugly, unkempt philosopher whose life's accomplishments consisted mainly of revealing the stupidity of his contemporaries (for which intrusive criticism he was killed)?
Despite their embodiment of brilliance and obvious social ineptitude, these individuals are labeled "genius" rather than "nerd" or even "geek." Although most nerds may lack their sheer brilliance, it is a source of pride that few nerds exhibit such an extreme want of social grace. In fact, very few nerds have been sentenced to death for their difficulties in society.
The dictionary also fails to take into account that closet nerds might exist, nerds with social skills who bury their natural tendencies towards useless knowledge under a guise of normalcy. These nerds, especially, deserve the right to far nicer connotations for their given label. Is it really too much to ask that the name be re-defined to permit kinder thoughts to accompany the word "nerd?"
Indeed, "nerd" would be far better defined as "an inquisitive person, who longs to discover all knowledge about any subject. The person you would want on your team in a game of Trivial Pursuit." For instance, who but a nerd would discover the speculation that his label may have originated under the pen of Dr. Seuss? (He admitted a Nerd into his menagerie in If I Ran the Zoo.)
Clearly, the nerd deserves a better reputation than his current one. His afflictions are well-documented in the personal histories of geniuses, and he enjoys the prestigious background of a cameo appearance in a children's book. Only two arguments can logically follow from this fact: either the nerd should be awarded far more respect, or he should be locked in Seuss's zoo. A word of warning to all who undertake to solve this dilemma: nerds in cages cannot learn social skills and will make very hostile teammates in Trivial Pursuit.
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