You green-blooded, inhuman...!!!

It has already been half a week since the passing of one of television's greatest sci-fi actors. As such, I feel I've had enough time to process what I wanted to say about him. Please take what I say below with a grain of salt, as I am fairly new to writing about dead people. NSFW for one use of the F-word.


Leonard Nimoy was not my favorite actor. There's no sense in suddenly saying that he was the best actor to ever live, simply because he has died. There will always be people who are better at something than you. He was, however, my favorite green-blooded, pointy-eared hobgoblin. I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Nimoy in person, but I certainly did know him, because he introduced me to Spock.

He spoke to me through the television from the time I was a wee lass of 5 years old, sitting on the couch several nights a week with my dad and a bag of pretzels, watching Star Trek: The Original Series. He spoke in well-formed, thought-out sentences. He had poise and sass, somehow showcasing them simultaneously in good humor. He was not cold to his peers, and yet he was distant. His half-Vulcan blood told him that he could not experience life the way his fellow officers experienced it.

That was all right. After all, he knew how little it mattered what people think of your behaviors and quirks, so long as you do the job you were hired to do.

That's not all he did, of course; Spock was extremely loyal and caring in his own way, and it didn't affect his mannerisms or work in the slightest until The Wrath of Khan, where we saw a rare and heartbreaking glimpse of the human side, his mother's side, reaching for his best friend in the universe.

As a homeschooled, sheltered child living in the somewhat suburban area of Cleveland, I had a constant sense of displacement. Even having lived in the same house my entire life, I didn't connect to similarly-aged children the way they connected to each other. I found myself at the adults table at parties, listening to them talk because it was more interesting than the drivel happening one floor down. They spoke of interesting things; politics, religious topics, movies, things that weren't the latest Power Rangers figurine, or Barbie doll. I don't mean to write myself as a fully aloof snob, though I'm sure that's how some of you may now see me. Of course I played with toys, but I preferred being alone when I played, since the only person who could follow my storylines was myself.

In order to bring me out of my shell, my thoughtful mother encouraged me to take dance classes at the local dance studio. I took ballet, jazz, acrobatics, and a few other classes... but in the end I begged her to let me drop the classes, because all the kids knew each other from local schools and had things and people to talk about, so I was ignored by all but the teachers, who had interesting things to say and didn't think I was weird for speaking like an adult. I felt ridiculous.

So I watched Star Trek and smiled like a fool when Spock would offer his opinions and have them respected, considered, enacted upon. Spock gave me hope that, someday, the weirdness that pervaded my very being would become the reason I was a respected adult.

Fast forward to this past Thursday, when I was packing boxes to be shipped out at my job and the radio station, through static, brought the name Leonard Nimoy to my ears. Having missed the rest of the conversation, I assumed that he was, once again, doing something amazing for the world of science fiction. Shortly after, I received a text from my fiancé, saying only, "Fuck."

So that was it, then.

Leonard Nimoy was an old man. He lived for a very healthy 83 years and did so very many things with the time he was given. I think , for that reason, I did not cry and will not cry in grievance for his passing; rather, I have chosen to commemorate his life in this silly little blog, in hopes that people will understand what a man like him did for several generations and for nerds like us.

Live long, and prosper.