"It is possible to commit no errors and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life."
Many of life's most profound realizations occurred to me while in solitude. Alone and tired, overwhelmed by the world, I would seek enlightenment by curling up with a cup of warm tea, my favourite blanket and then watching Star Trek: The Next Generation. The horror! Stop the presses! Franny's a TREKKIE!!! (we prefer 'Trekker' actually...mwaaaa ha ha!)
I am not the only one. A good few of you out there are loud and proud of your TNG habit, and Kim, you know who I'm talking about! Those of you that don't get it, that's ok too. See, Star Trek has taught us to be accepting of all cultures and backgrounds, and if we can have peaceful relations with snobby 7-foot-tall slimy exoskeleton grasshoppers, then we can surely get along with you
It seems that everywhere I've been, I've found Star Trek. I used to work in a bookstore, and when we had "Lead Meetings" I always thought it kinda felt like the "bridge officers" in the "ready room" (ok, it was a disgusting lunch room and salary-wise, we were all far off from being "officers"), but you get my point. I always fancied myself a Deanna Troi type character. I know everyone's woes, counsel them, read their thoughts, have the long dark locks and brown, soulful eyes...but I lack the boobage. I've befriended a "Dr. Crusher" in my life, and had the dubious pleasure of meeting quite a few Worfs.
In terms of species though, I think I'd make a wicked Romulan - passionate, intelligent, strategic. My husband says I would make a good Bejoran because I'm determined resourceful and scrappy. He fancies himself a Cardassian - big, masculine, fallen from grace, solid as a rock...hey...am I the only one getting ideas here????
But I digress. (*frantically calling costume shop*) My kids are Klingons, no doubt about it. They're capable of incredible loyalty and courage, yet willing to fight to the death over the last marshmallow. In fact, I think I've even heard Nicky growl, as he climbed the corner unit to reach the remote control, "perhaps today IS a good day to die!" My husband and I even call WalMart "the Borg". Its a play on the fact that the stores kinda all look the same, and once you go there, you are "assimilated" by the low low prices. Not to mention the over-worked, over-tired, trudging employees you sometimes see there, and the way they "mark" you at the front door with those little stickers...damn creepy smiley face...
Me: "Honey, we need socks and toilet paper!"
Hubby: "Great! Let's go to the Borg."
Me: "The crappy Borg or the Ancaster Borg?"
Hubby: "Well d'uh! Ancaster! Should we take the kids to the Borg?"
Me: "Of course! You know how much they love those stickers!"
When we talk like this in public, which we do, you can imagine the confused looks we get from non-trekkers. But what's more fun are the horrified looks from the people who DO understand. Yes we're nerds. But, ahh, I'm so happy I married Barclay...
I cried during Star Trek: First Contact. No, not when someone died, or lost a love, etc etc. But when the alien pulled down its hood, and you just knew
humanity was saved because there were Vulcans on that flying saucer! (*Note to my patient non-trekker readers: Don't worry, my next post will be "normal" again!) And that quote at the top of the page? You got it, that's from Star Trek: TNG too. When Data the android loses a match after he played a perfect game, that's what the captain tells him. Sometimes, I need to hear it too. Because:"If you can't take a little bloody nose, maybe you oughta go back home and crawl under your bed. It's not safe out here. It's wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross; but it's not for the timid."
I have been assimilated. Resistance is futile...