He’s a much better player than I am, though. I tend to be optimistic about how far Drake can jump.

I’ve always suspected I was a geek.

Even as well-meaning non-geek friends with more style in their pinky fingers than I could ever aspire to told me it was nonsense, I knew.  Come on. I earned three letters in high school…none in sports. (Friend-points to who can guess what they were!) I have the classic hallmarks, namely being enthusiastic about niche interests to the point where it could be called obsession.

Really, I’m okay with it. I often think that journalism is the perfect place for geeks because you can specialize in anything, like getting a PhD in Life. And it’s a good time to be one, quite frankly.

Forget Revenge of the Nerds. The Aughts are the Golden Age of Geekdom.

Think about it. It’s right there in the chart: geeks are nerds with social aptitude. And look our society today. It used to be that only the fringe freaks had computers. Now everyone has a laptop and a cell phone that does at least two things. Suddenly being tech-savvy is a selling point, and not just to your relatives who need their voicemail programmed.

Yeah, I do some of the hipster-geek stuff, but I don’t drink PBR, have a devotion to vinyl or look good in leggings, so that makes me not even cool enough to be a hipster.

In fact, a lot of the time, I veer dangerously close to nerd territory: I also play video games (tactical, puzzle-y, turn-based ones, not like Halo or GTA4), watch anime, read/watch/love sci-fi, and even play DnD  on occasion. I wear uncool glasses. I often forget hate to wear makeup. I love baseball –and I adored Moneyball. I care about fonts.

So now is the time to stand (well, kind of) before you and say, I am a geek. And not even the cool kind.

WASHINGTON, DC — This morning, my bus driver said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please utilize all available space and try to congregate toward the rear of the vehicle.”

A son looked up at his mother. “We have to move to the back of the bus,” she whispered.

Yep.

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Then, yesterday, someone ran into me — an adult ran into me — and said, “Oh, excuse me ma’am.” That echoed in my head long after he’d gone.  Ma’am. Ma’am. Ma’am!?

Having been raised in Minnesota where we’re inexcusably rude (ha!), “ma’am” is not a something I’m used to hearing outside of the occasional  sarcastic salutes. But D.C. isn’t exactly the South (and my SO has words for anyone who thinks it is)  so I couldn’t pass it off as a regionalism either.

This is part of a trend with which I’m not entirely comfortable, actually. The other day a kid ran into me on the bus and his mom ordered him to apologize to “that lady.”  I’m getting carded less, which I find worrisome. Plus, I’m having trouble referring generically to my co-workers in conversations with my friends. At what point does “this girl from work” become “this woman from work”? Men, of course, can just be “guys,” but no one really uses the counterpart, gals. Or, you know, dolls. You just can’t without sounding like a 60′s movie.

I used to equate the switch with someone being married but that’s a really awful indicator and I know it. Plus, some of my classmates and close friends are married now so…that puts me back in the same predicament.

I’d totally be fine with people calling me “this girl I know from work,” or choir or whatever, but I don’t know if others my age would find that condescending. (I certainly find it much less condescending than “young lady” or “young woman” as in, “You’ve grown into such a nice” whatever.) But I think I’ll have to readjust my self-identity on that front, if only because I’d hate to insult good, professional people my age just because I still feel a bit like I’m playing dress-up every time I scan my security badge.

In general, I hate letting people know my age, since I worry it will belie how much I value my work. I guess I just have to start thinking of myself as an adult.

As a sidenote, I also hate making people feel old. I’ve had a version of this conversation too many times to count:

—

Person making small talk: “Where were you on 9/11?”

Me: “Oh, I was in sophomore biology class.”

PMST: “You took biology in college? I thought you were a history major.”

Me: “…”

PMST: “Oh man. High school biology? I’m so old.”

*crickets*

Me, earnest but unconvincing: “No you’re not…”

FIN

—

Then again, on a recent trip my cousin — who was, quite recently actually, a sophomore in college — said that she felt old because she was flipping channels and saw a kids’ show explaining to its young audience that tape decks were what people had in their cards before CD players.

Yowch.

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Don’t get me wrong; I’ve had maybe the best temping experience one could have had. I thought I’d be in a different office every week, doing menial work, but instead I stuck with the same office for a long time and actually got to do some interesting stuff. In fact, for six months, I worked at a fantastic company with wonderful people with whom I developed real, likely lasting, friendships. If I had any passion for the work, I would have applied for a job there in a heartbeat. And really, how many temps can say that?

Still, it will be nice to defragment my brain a bit and let myself focus solely on being awesome at this amazing job I’ve lucked myself into. (Yes, ending sentences with prepositions on my off-hours woooo.) I do not fail to recognize how extremely lucky I am to have found a journalism job, writing, for The Washington Post, on a subject I love. That’s…a quad-fecta. Working longer hours will also (maybe?) free up some time to get back into serious reporting, which would make it a quint-fecta. In sum, life is pretty awesome right now, poised to get more awesome if I can hack it and I’m a very happy camper.

Plus, my SO just got Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood and it’s maybe the most entertaining game to watch…um…ever.

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Dear Santa: Please Make My Mommy Happy : NPR.

Hope you all have a fantastic Turkey Day.  I have a lot to be thankful for this year. Great family, a wonderful (better) other half, a roof over my head and a mercifully understanding and supportive group of friends. And now, to add to the list.

I. Have. A. Job.

A job! I will be working for the Washington Post’s technology section starting Dec. 6. That’s right, folks, someone will be paying me to commit journalism. I will be paid to do what I love.

I am so grateful and humbled, but most of all…excited beyond belief.

Thanks.

–Hayley

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I know. Times are tough and there’s not a whole lot of money to be throwing around. I’m a temp with a new master’s degree, living in Washington, D.C. I feel that tells you everything you may need to know about my financials.

And I know, too, that sometimes not giving is the result of a sort of charity paralysis, as you try to figure out if your $25 should go to medical research or education programs or the arts or youth sports or….

But I’ll be giving money today to places in and out of MN that mean a lot to me. Because what’s important is not how much you give or even to whom. It’s that you give.

Support humanity. Donate what you can today.

YouTube – On the Rocks – Lady Gaga – Bad Romance.

Silver lining: Found there’s a market for websites that don’t explain what injuries and illnesses are before telling you how to treat them. Look, I am a huge fan of context, but maybe when I Google “coffee burn on hand” I want the treatment to show up in the sum text. Now I have a new business model in case I ever need one.

Bonus bright spot: Finding out your co-workers like you, even if you are just a temp. And that they habitually have ice packs in their mini-fridges.