I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I am not, nor will I probably ever be, a normal person. But what makes it worse is the fact that the things I do or am interested in are just so weird as compared to what most regular people have interests in. And I don’t mean that these things are just quirky, but instead they’re just so head-scratchingly weird that no self-respecting person would even waste time on these things unless it was their career.
While I may not be this bad, I feel like I’m bordering on it.
People generally don’t care about the weather. The only time they need to know anything is whether or not they’re going to die. Case in point. I could be standing with someone watching a storm roll in and inevitably they say something along the lines of: “Wow, that looks strong enough to make a tornado.”
That’s when I’ll step in, because I’ve studied this sort of thing, and say: “Actually there’s no chance. See, this storm is moving directly west to east. In order for a tornado to spawn, the storm would generally have to be moving from the southwest to the northeast and be moving against considerable wind sheer from either the east or the west, in essence, two opposite forces coming from a diagonal angle to force a spin. Two wind directions clashing head on won’t do that. Worst case scenario would be straight-line winds, which, while causing tornado-like damage, is not actually a tornado.”
Another instance could be when there’s a potential for snow and, while it could be 31 degrees outside, rain is still falling. That’s when Weather Nerd jumps in to explain: “Just because it’s below freezing on the surface doesn’t mean it’s the same temperature higher in the atmosphere. Especially in the South, when you get weather systems coming up from the Gulf, a lot of warm air travels with it. And since warm air rises, it could be warmer in the upper levels of the atmosphere. Even if the temperature was 32.1 degrees at 10,000 feet, it could change everything.”
No, it’s not some fancy form of complex math. It’s the term used to refer to people who collect coins, which is incredibly dweeby that I even know that term to begin with. I have, hidden away, a respectable collection of coins and paper money from foreign countries – separated, of course, by continent because obviously I’d be super obsessive about it. The part of this, however, that’s kind of pathetic is the fact that I’ve never actually traveled outside of the US. In fact, I’ve only visited 12 states.
The first time I ever went panning – the act of sifting through dirt to find gemstones – I was hooked. I found** gem stones of all shapes and sizes and colors. Now, nearly every chance I get, I find a place in the mountains, buy a bucket of gem dirt, fill my wire-bottomed wooden basket with dirt, plop it in the flume, and watch the dirt drift away to reveal my treasure.
And sure it’s probably a total scam, but I like it because there’s an air of whimsy and discovery. Plus, you have the option of taking your raw, uncut gemstones and having them cut and fashioned into jewels. The hope is that one day I will be able to give my wife or girlfriend a unique, one-of-a-kind jewelry piece that I found**, paid to have cut, and set into jewelry. Why? Because that’s romantic as balls.
**By ‘found’ I mean an actual miner dug out a bunch of gems from inside a mountain and sold them to a retailer, who poured a bunch of dirt on them and then sold that dirt to me, where I then found the gems.
Let’s be honest. No one really writes anymore. If they do, it’s a personal journal or they do it as a profession. They certainly don’t do this. They don’t write books about the road trips they took. They don’t have their own website and Facebook fan page where they write and promote their work like some self-indulgent hipster prick.
On top of that, no one really even reads for leisure anymore. I certainly don’t. If I’m reading for leisure, it’s because the power has been out for 8 hours, all of my electronics are dead, and I’m trapped in my apartment. Even then I’ll probably just sleep, run in place, or rearrange the furniture in my apartment before I start reading.
So I’m kind of a dweeb. But maybe it isn’t all bad. I could look at it optimistically. I’m unique. I’m pretty interesting. I have a wealth of knowledge not held by many other people. Maybe I’m actually pretty cool.