For some reason, I spent my lunch hour trying to convince Jen that I am, in fact, a geek. That she cannot tell this simply by looking at me, or at least from knowing me for 7 months, is mind-blowing. She’s also the woman who called me a diva and thinks I don’t like food, so clearly she doesn’t know me at all. Also she might be crazy, because even listing the high points of my week did not faze her, and they include “Star Trek,” “Trekkies,” and “Battlestar Gallactica.” (Yeah. Admit it. You want me.) I think she’s under the misconception that being a geek is a bad thing and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, whereas I am fiercely proud of my own awkwardness. So now I’m shouting it from the rooftops: I speak the language of the comic book fanboy. I mesh with the mathletes. I quote Quantum Leap. I’M A GEEK. Get used to it.