I get the Look about once a month here in Las Vegas, give or take. This is neither a look or the look, it is the Look. A hypothetical observer of the person Giving this Look to me would note the significant import given to this Look and mentally capitalize it. For me though, the Look means a few awkward moments of this Irishman becoming the Giver’s personal hero, favourite celebrity in the flesh and possibly a lifetime counselor. These are grave powers that should never be used for evil.

The Giving of the Look usually begins with me in a store somewhere, ordering something. I speak my part and mentally roll a D100. Roll a 1-99 and I get a simple I’m sorry, but could you repeat that again? Roll a 100 and I get the Look. A few silent moments pass as mental hard-drives spin up, processors crunch numbers and programs are loaded into RAM. And then I get asked:

I’m sorry, but are you Irish?

Yes. Shit.

I’m a Foreigner, you see. A flesh and blood Irishman straight for the storied days of yore. Mexicans don’t count, to Americans. I mean, their Uncle Mitch went on holidays in Moscow and in the room next to him? A Mexican family from Tijuana. The Mexican people are so ubiquitous here that they blend into the background noise and don’t really get noticed on a conscious level. Hispanics in general, that is visitors from Central American, South American and even from the Iberian Peninsula, suffer this fate too. You are foreign, but not Foreign.

I usually cringe inside while waiting for the Giver’s next statement. It will fall into one of the following categories:

So, you’re Irish… This rest of this statement is an unspoken implication that by being Irish I have regularly conversed and consorted with pixies, fairies, druids, warlocks and also that yes, I know where the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow is. I can get away with a knowing smirk and a wink.

Or

Do you know where….? The village asked about was abandoned during the famine and is now little more than a jumbled pile of stones on a lonely moonlit hill somewhere. Why yes! This village is still a bustling town somewhere peopled by your distant cousins.

Or

When is it a good time to visit? It never really is. This is fucking Ireland, one of the wettest places on Earth outside of the Amazon Basin and Seattle. My home city has the world record for most consecutive days of rain. We light fires and use heaters in July as it can get so damp and miserable. In winter we either hide behind a glass in a warm pub for two months straight or stay home and screw like rabbits. In summer we either hide behind a glass in a warm pub for two months straight or stay home and screw like rabbits. Well this is a fine time of year as the weather is great.

Or

Do you know who…? This is the worst - and thankfully rarest - question of them all. I am hailed as literally one of their flesh and blood ancestors brought through time to the present day and expected to deliver learned ancestral advice on the direction of their life and critique their life to date. I hate you. You did fine, but you should maybe get a girlfriend and maybe look for a better job, okay?

Going from day to day over the last, I’ve always felt that Las Vegas has lacked something, some indefinable feeling that something is just wrong about the city. It took me until last night, when we were driving past a food stand on our way to the hospital (more below) to precisely pin down what it was: The city is too planned, and this fact takes away the feeling of belonging that comes with many other places I’ve been, both big and small. The city is a straight grid dropped down over the desert; north to south and east to west. There’s a retail park here, a housing development there, public amenities over here and here. I’m not going to admit to a belief in feng shui, but I will admit that Las Vegas feels a little like Minas Morgul at times, that it’s a place which really shouldn’t be.

Back to the hospital: Mariah has had a bad ear infection for the last four days, but took until last night before she would finally go to the hospital and get it looked at. Their resident ear and throat specialist referred to it as ”all funky” and sent her home with a prescription for ear and pain medication at a cost (so far) of almost two hundred dollars. What’s wrong with America that they can’t have universal health care like oh, everywhere else? It was sickening that the first and last things we were asked were, “Have you insurance?” “How would you like to pay?” Why wasn’t it, “Where does it hurt?” It pissed me off no end that this country can be so backward at times because I come from a country where the most pressing medical question isn’t how the patient will pay!

She’s home on the couch, sick, now.

I took a few photos of Caira yesterday, to prove that can still do it. I’m not going to say what I think of where my photographic skills stand, but I will say that I find that I’m still in love with the fifty. I have this horribly afflicted love for bokeh and the lens is still perfect, if cheap, for it.

Last, but not least, I’m an uncle, as of Thursday night Friday morning. Ella Mary Grealish was born at 0200 on May 16 2008, underweight but otherwise healthy. Nice one Jen.

I arrived at work on Monday and opened my laptop to find a pretty crack in the corner of the screen. As of right now, Solo Photo Book Month is on hiatus, at least until I purchase a new machine. :[

The portrayal of geeks by mainstream media is a constant source of frustration and anger for me; we’re usually shown (or, in reality TV shows, implied) to be socially inept virgins who live in our parents basements. We pass our time cataloguing our Star Wars memorabilia, correcting people on the proper use of the word “midichlorion” Slave Leia costumes. If you happened to see last night’s American Idol, you will have a fair idea of what I’m speaking of.

Really, fuck that.

I’m not going to deny that there’s an extreme fringe among geeks who even I find creepy, but guess what folks, there are yiffs, sodomites and masochists in all of the walks of life. I’ve personally known one completely ordinary appearing person who had tastes and interests that left me feeling physically sick, but they had the gall to smirk at me because I have a deep and abiding love of vintage science fiction. Thank you.

Myth 1: We’re socially backwards.
We’re not socially inept; most of us simply prefer to interact in means that we enjoy more. Internet discussions, instant messaging, text messaging, etc. You need to understand that we don’t talk for the joy of talking; we use it to communicate. Maybe it’s why we’re seen as so dysfunctional. We’re not so much ignorant of social norms, as we are aware of them, but we simply don’t care. Get the fuck over it.

I much prefer to deal with other geeks in social situations. Pleasure for me is playing network games with them for a few hours, sitting down around a table to play a pen and paper role-playing game, reading the latest part of a length email correspondence, or talking to them on an instant message network. How is going to parties and functions, for me and us, supposed to match this?

Myth 2: We have no friends.
Rubbish. Kaede lives in Japan, Michelle, Mike and Eileen live in Ireland, Flemming lives in Denmark, Gabi lives in Oklahoma and Jennifer lives in Texas. I keep in touch with them regularly both through the phone and internet, and I’ve had as many an enjoyable evening with them as I’ve had with any friend in the flesh. Actually, our relationship goes a little bit deeper. We don’t have the inhibitions that being in person brings, and the fatigue that seeing each other every day brings. It runs deeper and truer than many flesh and blood friendships and relationships that I’ve had.

Myth 3: Star Wars and Dungeons & Dragons are the be-all of our interests.
For sure, I enjoy both of these, although most people’s interests in science fiction and fantasy run past these. I’m a middlingly-successful photographer, I’m teaching myself to write lengthy pieces and I love all kinds of science fiction and fantasy more than anything else. Star Wars has flashy special effects, but how is that to compare with the Book of the New Sun, The Night Land or At the Mountains of Madness?

Myth 4: We’re fated to die virgins and never know the comforts of the opposite sex.
I’m married to a wonderful wife and have a beautiful daughter. Enough said.

So get over it already. We have a mark of strangeness upon us, but we wear it openly and proudly. Without geeks quietly beavering away you would not have computers, or the television, or the internet. We are the people who work behind the scene to make sure the trains run on time, who make sure that supermarket stocks your favourite brand of biscuts, and geeks always have been at the heart of the entertainment industry.