Rise of the RedNerd

(re-posted from Kenton's Brasswolf Wordsmith blog, originally posted June 18, 2014)

                I have always been a fan of duality. The notion that something can inherently embody its polar opposite is fascinating. Over my short years, I have learned to see duality everywhere. Perhaps this simply means I’m seeking it… but nonetheless, it plays a huge part in what interests me. For example; in life, I like things that embrace duality; such as the concept of Yin and Yang, night and day, tides, and the lifecycle of butterflies. In literature and geek-dom, I’m fascinated by characters like Jekyl and Hide, the Hulk (same character, I know), and anti-heroes like Wolverine or Batman. It took me twenty-plus years to realize I like duality so much because I embodied it.

                Now I would never say that I am in any way a Jekyl OR a Hyde, nor am I an anti-hero in any sense of the term. I did, however, grow up in a blue-collar rural homestead surrounded by hard-working, salt-of-the-earth citizens of the Great White North, and spent the vast majority of my time hopelessly submersed in comic books, movies, cartoons, and video games. I was a farm-boy in love with story and sensitive enough to the world to see it for what it was. As I grew, I became increasingly aware that these two worlds I came from were never meant to mix. What I didn’t know then, was that the dichotomy would eventually be what made me unique. Back then, it was all about embracing the redneck and denying the nerd.

                When I wasn’t reading comic books, my close friends and I were off-roading in our farm-fixed pickup trucks left to us by Uncles whose only price for the vehicle was helping swap the engine. We lit bonfires, drank cheap beer, shot rifles at empty bottles in contests of redneck masculinity, and engaged in barnyard chemistry experiments that still to this day leave me wondering how I survived. We didn’t live that way because we were rebels. We respected the police, never hurt anyone without the intent to make them stronger, and treated the women in our lives with respect. It was just what we did living in what my parents affectionately dubbed “the boonies.” Life was about exploring the unknown. It was hiking, fishing, camping, hunting, eating, partying, sports, and sex. At times there were fall fairs, cowboys, cattle, cigars, and on a few occasions, a truly heartbreaking loss. I never for a moment regretted anything about my childhood. I still don’t, save maybe for one or two hasty decisions. I would never be me without it.

                Yet interestingly enough, there was another far more subtle undercurrent within me all those years; a babbling brook of sensitivity and quiet insight that kept me up at night thinking, and helped me understand ideologies and philosophies far outside my middle-class upbringing. It manifested itself in reading comics late at night. Learning to love what it meant to be an X-Man. Teaching myself to draw, and write my own comics. I even entered a few creative writing contests. A Principal I’d had when I was only in kindergarten saw something in me that wouldn’t wake for twenty-five more years (and when it did, the passion was nearly overwhelming). I wanted to become a fanboy. I wanted to attend conventions, converse with my favorite actors about characters they played that moved me. I wanted to make Steampunk weapons out of household garbage. I wanted to connect with people who could not only understand, but challenge my views. I wanted to be a nerd, and when the opportunity arose for me to move to the coast, I finally saw a way I might meet people more like me. And meet them I did.

                For years the only outdoors, redneck lifestyle I lived was through the stories I would tell my friends. I had joined the Canadian Navy, moved to Victoria, the hippy-capital of British Columbia, and made my life about film. I worked with a local independent film society, made a few campy (but awesome) indie short films, and crafted some incredible life-long friendships. My creativity was flowing more powerful than it ever had, but still, I was unable to see my own dual nature. In time, even this new life lost its lustre. The term was never “I’m a redneck,” but rather “I was a redneck.” Though my new friends were all I had ever wished for in the dark nights of my teenage farmer years, I found myself yearning for the life I had known and lost. A marriage to a hometown girl, followed by a short-lived move back to the interior was an attempt at regaining the redneck life I had lost, but sooner rather than later, I found myself back in Victoria. Through some poor decisions and an unfortunate divorce, I also found myself back on the path to creativity, and it was then that I finally embraced the troubadour within and took up storytelling.

                After a locally successful self-published novella, and numerous other personal successes (and failures), I realized something else was still missing. At first, I attributed my lack of happiness to depression or other mental illness. I could not, for the life of me, ascertain what about my life was making me so unhappy. Was I a loser all along? Did I deserve all the bad things that happened to me? Did I deserve the good? It was a haunting time. Until the answer hit me. Duality.

My whole life, I have been part Redneck, part Nerd. But long ago, probably through some inane conversation with a schoolyard bully, someone had convinced me that you could not be both. I had spent almost my entire life choosing one half or the other and expecting either mud and pickup trucks, or rainbows and unicorns. Never once did I consider accepting the fact that I prefer a muddy jacked-up Dodge Unicorn under a rainbow in the woods. I want to take my boat out on the lake with a cold beer and a book while I troll for trout. I want to spend a day at a rifle range and a night at the theatre. I want to make a firecracker that looks like a Minecraft Creeper and blow up a paper doll of Steve while the camera rolls in slow motion JUST because I think it would be cool on YouTube.

                I’m still a father. I’m still holding down a job, owning my own home, and paying my bills. I plant gardens, fish, camp, hike, write books, play video games, talk about what makes Gambit sexy and why Channing Tatum shouldn’t play him, and at the end of the day? I’m never going to change. My message to you is the same.

Be who you are.

Accept duality where you find it.

And NEVER listen to the voices of ancient schoolyard bully-ghosts.

Signed,

a RedNerd.