In November of 2010, for the second time I heard someone mention Nerdfighteria at a NaNoWriMo meeting. I looked it up. I bought Paper Towns, I started refreshing youtube every 10 minutes on vlogbrothers days. I met a few fellow nerdfighters here and there. Earlier this year I bought Looking for Alaska. Through Hank’s projects and John’s books, all the knowledge and lessons and laughter I get from their videos, all the inspiration I get from other nerdfighters; I might not have 5000 posts on YourPants, but these 2 brothers have changed my life in lots of small ways, for the better.
I am, of course, an avid reader (+ writer) and I really admire the authors I like perhaps more than I should. But I’ve seen their names around; for book signings and such. I think about it. I daydream about it. I don’t go.
I don’t go because I admire these authors so much and I probably wouldn’t be able to form any words to say to them. I don’t go because there will be lots of other people there. Awesome people full of the same admiration, but I wouldn’t have the words to say to them either.
I’d stutter, I’d shake, I’d hold back tears because I’m ashamed at my own lack of ability to deal with social situations.
This isn’t a post to rant about e-readers or anything, but I value the book as a material object. I like books that are falling apart from so much reading and rereading that people just can’t let go of. I value when I get first editions, or when I pick something up in a thrift store and someone’s written a little note inside it ‘For Julie, Xmas 1986. Thought you’d like it.’
And so, I truly value the little J-Scribble in my copy of The Fault in our Stars. I truly value that the author took so much time throwing out boxes of used sharpies to do something so wonderful for his readers — old and new, outgoing or terribly anxious.
Because I wouldn’t have made it to a book signing if it was across the street.