I am thoroughly uncool.

So much of who I am is who I decided to be.  Well, at least partly.  I could write a long tangent about the unseen forces that made me want to be this way in the first place.

I become what I value.  I want to be the kind of person who listens to opera and classical music, who reads a lot of books, who doesn't watch much TV but when she does it's documentaries.  I decided to become a geek, who reads Watchmen and X-Men comics and loves Star Trek (indeed, the appeal of those folks inspired me to start watching science fiction in the first place). I want to be a childfree person who is open about her status.  I want to lead a life guided by ethics, even if that leads to non-mainstream behavior such as eating vegan and not shopping at Walmart.  You get the (pretentious) picture.

Yet there is one part of me that has never been a decision, that I can't reason out with some image of myself I endeavor toward.  Doggies.  It doesn't clash with my ideal self, but it doesn't stem from it either.  It is the one part of my person who just is.  It dissolves the rational intellectual self and detracts from the selected maturity until I am a mushy pile of ohhhh that's cuuuute.

So, in true L.T. fashion, I create a retroactive justification.  I find qualities in dogs that I admire, and just secretly love them because of the wrinkles and underbites and delightful fuzziness.

And the one thing I really, truly admire in dogs?  They are not cool.

I mean this not in the "neat" or "positive" way some tend to use the word, but rather in the meaning that inspired such use.  James Dean. Nothing affects him.  He doesn't get giddy or furious.  He's just . . . cool.  And while that reaction has a time in place, I think we overuse it terribly in our society.

I didn't play it cool when I had a crush on Vinny.  I told him he had a nice butt, told him he was hot, and flirted so shamelessly even he (eventually) got the hint. If it had taken him too long, or if I had been an actual adult and not an 18 year old girl, I would have asked him out directly (instead, it was simply mutual).  When we broke up, I didn't play it cool.  I told him I still loved him, and wanted to get back together often enough that he always knew it was true (but not often enough to be creepy stalker girl, I think).  And yadda yadda yadda, we're happily married.

I don't play it cool with my enthusiasms.  I think that's a big part of being a geek - getting really excited about something and letting the world know it.  How boring life would be if I had to affect a blase air about the latest Star Trek movie premiere.  If I had to pretend in that video of Maho Beach that having a 747 fly right over my head wasn't awesome (it was the utter dorkiness of me in that video that inspired this post). 

So I will be like puppies.  I will tell those I like that I like them, and let me friends know there are very specific and strong reasons that I keep them in my life.  I will share my delight in books, or music, or whatever it is I'm crazy about this week.  And I will embrace all my uncool friends who do likewise, feeding off of each other's geekhood until life is just how I want it to be.

And I will always, always, get down on the floor and play with your dog, even if you thought up to that point that I was a mature professional.  Because there are some parts of myself I cannot, and should not hide.