I Yam Geek

*From her latest letter, Rara seems to be having a hard time recently. I'm attempting to transcribe as many of her letters, and will post them over the next few days. However, word has it that you can go to freebirdcards.com and send her a postcard via their app, for free if you let them attach an advertisement.

Radhika Jaini WF0124

CIW RC 105 UP

PO Box 8100

Corona, CA 92878-8100

Originally written 9/29/2014

I'm not an adventurer. Maybe it is my star sign, maybe I am missing a gene, or maybe I'm traumatized from my travel experiences like the time a Popeye-themed fish taco truck rammed into a plane I was boarding. It could be none or all of those things, but more than likely-I just yam what I yam, and what I yam is a homebody. I've never understood the joys of being surrounded by unfamiliar food, shockingly different sensory input, and people who are mystified by my standards of normality. I respect adventures and expats, but like all who seemed to seek lives of unbridled challenges (teachers, mountain climbers, house parents)-I never wanted to be one. It turns out, though, that I am not the complete boss of life. I may have selected a path, but from a grander perspective, I'm stumbling and mumbling like any other creature-subject to evolution, erosion, and the flashy randomness of the 'verse. I am a tiny projectile in the Great Pinball Game of Life, and I've been ricocheted into new frontiers. I have become, by virtue of a springy lever known as Destiny-an expat. Of culture.

Where I live now, no one recognizes the supreme and serene symbol of the Green Lantern. No one understands the import of Stan Lee, the influence of Takei, or the fierce strength of Stephen Fry. Instead, the bigness of geek ideals are as invisible to them as a Hobbit wearing a legendary ring.

These people have to think for a minute in order to name even three superheroes. They never hashtag real-life conversations. They can't distinguish between Wars and Trek, DC and Marvel, or Nessy and Chupa. This world is blissfully unaware of the delicate-often broken-truce between fandoms. They've never taken an aggressive stance on crossovers, many do not even own a computer, and none think of truth-pulling lassos when Princess Diana is mentioned. Given all that, it isn't surprising to know they are unfamiliar with more gossamer threads of geekdom-the Bond conspiracy, the Pixar theory, the Whedonite stance on Leprechauns, or the Oatmeal's dethroning of Benjamin Franklin. In other words, they don't geek-and they barely remember that anyone does.

I am learning the ways of this culture, and adjusting my dialect. So my references can be understood. The purpose of language is to communicate, after all-not to show off your grasp off Gotham City's political unrest. Based on tips from true expats, I have begun by replacing my center points of slang with this community's lexicon. What to me is the Enterprise ism to them, the Titanic. What to me is an Aquaman is, to them, a Joan Rivers. It's easy and still English, but by splicing and scooping the geek from my vocabulary, I often feel as if I'm babbling through a foreign language. My progress is slow, no one yet mistakes me for fluent, and I struggle with nuances-but, I am proud of myself and fascinated by all the new concepts I am learning. I can't claim to have been infected by the expat bug that sends people across the world with nothing but a backpack, but I am not as miserable as I would have guessed I'd be. It feels good to see a new landscape, to test the endurance of my passions, and to flex my view of the world.

It's like seeing Earth from space-and though I always felt that perspective would be lonely, I am finding the reward to be worth the pang. It is as if my home grew in size, and as if my heart is growing rapidly to fill it. Mostly, the growing pains are muffled by the adventure of exploration, but there are moments where the vast distance from my world hits me hard. I lose my bird's eye view of my place in the pinball game of life, so I stop and take a deep breath of this galaxy-far-far-away. I seek the presence of commonalities-culturalism, even the accidental kind, we share.

In my case, it is a private joke that saves me every time. I point at the blanketed sky-full of endless space and time-and call out. Looking up, my new friends reply naturally-speaking geek without realizing it. It comforts me to know that, even here, somewhere on a distant planet, when anyone says, "The Doctor!"

...The world echoes "Who".