Battlestar Galactica, Stargate, Firefly

Ok. Confession number two...ish. I am a huge nerd. Huge. Under this normal-looking, if not a little spacy-seeming exterior, I worship at the throne of three things: coffee, science, and the SyFy channel. The latter of which was brought to fruition at approximately 11:02 a.m. in CCI this morning after the following events transpired:

1) David Gutman and Dhananjaya approached me in the hall
2) DJ pointed and said, "look, you're both Stargate fans"
3) I transformed into a gigantic nerd and on commenced a heated discussion about the Ori and Goa'uld.

It was joined by another fellow "Is this a Stargate conversation?" Yes. Yes it is. On and On. Atlantis. Universe. I name dropped Battlestar Galactica. Firefly. Nathan Fillion. Joss Whedon. Part of me is in disbelief that I actually know who these people are and why they are so awesome, and part of me is elated that I'm having this conversation in the first place. Sooooo AMAZING. And, the lady next to the filing cabinet who could overhear the conversation turned to me and told me she felt like she was in an episode of The Big Bang Theory, which I've decided to take as a compliment. Excellent day.

Parasite.

I'm sitting in the Conference Center Hotel, the long awaited "Fetal Programming" talk continues on, David Barker's pleasantly British voice slips out of the slightly open door. MD, PhD, FRS. I'm jealous of his title. It's long and intimidating but says nothing of his soft presence nor the comfortable tones of his voice. I want to lie down and have him read James and the Giant Peach to me until I fall asleep.

The best part of this conference is the fact that there's a snack area I've been taking full advantage of these last two days. A plethora of Stacy's Naked Pita Chips and whatever aesthetically pleasing fruit item I can fit into my purse are at my mercy. All of a sudden a crowd of chattering cacophony of voices fills the hall, ricocheting off the high ceilings and empty walls of the hallway and encroaching upon the indistinct expanse of wall space I have claimed as my own for the next few hours. How rude. I sit staring in the direction of the noise with my mouth open, shocked at the nerve of some people. Just a skinny white girl, torn from the pages of a J Crew catalog, an apparent look of disdain upon her face, un-accepting of the social conduct violation that ensues. The only word that comes to mind is boorish. Mmm. My disapproving murmur.

I realize that part of me is growing accustom to the perks of social class. It's unnerving, more so in that I know I can only leach the benefits for so much longer before I'm tossed out again, back where I belong. Parasite.

Begging you to stay when you say you need to go. What a liar you are. But I just don't want to be alone, the rest has nothing to do with you. I am selfish for this fact, no better than you. Arrest, my fleeting entertainment. Do not seek to understand what you cannot accept. It's you I do not understand, but try so hard to accept.

The only great feat I ever achieved was latching on in the first place. Disguised as something beautiful and good, as you unsuspectingly ingested me, faithful and believing. And I, now inside, latch my wormy talons into your gut, steal your nutrients and thrive.