Not that kind of model.

I've been lucky enough to have a long, wholeharted relationship with stories and storytelling. I've been reading copiously for as long as I can remember and I usually wind up getting entangled with a genre for a while, to move to another and then come back to epic fantasy.

I took a break from reading. Not really sure why, but it was a stupid thing to do. I missed it terribly. Turns out reading, even casual or technical reading does play an important part of my life.

Books, comics, manga, and wikipedia. I am in great debt to the nun that taught me to read the books that taught me to think. Funny thing in it's own right.

So, anyway. I also enjoy writing. I don't do it as much as I used to, and I'm still trying to figure out why. I like the free, personal, intimate writing style that a blog allows. It is an unlikely middle point between a diary and a column, and it lets you explore people's ideas sans proof reading; which is usually awful, but occasionally brilliant. Sometimes both.

What works for me, for the most part is personal experience accounts. Here goes Sunday.

I was strolling in a mall, looking for a pair of jeans to replace the ones that are near decommission from the wardrobe. The thing is, clothes-wise I'm as cheap as they come. Really, there is no reasonable motive for a pair of jeans to cost more than 24 beers. I did not found jeans within my acceptable price/value range, so fuck it, I'll go get some ice cream.

On the way, I came across a mini expo of sorts. Six long, folding tables covered in blue fabric. On top, a very decent fleet of WWII fighter aircraft, 1/32 of their real size. As I walked near, I saw that they also had many types of models, tanks, choppers, D&D-esque scenery of orc-ridden castles and the like.

But the airplanes, damn, the airplanes.

As I looked at them with honest fascination I noted a bespectacled guy hovering around, his expression a mix of pride and child-like anxiety. He made the models. He then was telling somebody that the green one was a Stuka and the gray one a Mustang. I join in casually, as he was explaining something and removed the engine cover of one of the models. I point out (again, honestly fascinated) the amount of detail and historical accuracy that was put into it, into that junkers inverted v12. He gives me a quick glimpse and carries on.

So we begin to chat and he tells me he has been into modeling since he was a little kid, that he also builds radio control airplanes from scratch (an impressive maker feat, I must say) and shows me a half done Spitfire wooden frame.

It's time for them to go, and he seems deeply horrified at the thought of leaving his models alone as the carries some of them to his car. I offer to help him. He says his nieces are on the way, but accepts my offer. I pick up a couple of planes and see him getting ever more nervous.

I was extremely careful. I had the feeling that those were nothing short of treasures form him. We take them to the car and his nieces and sister-in-law tease him friendly about his nerdy hobby, and he laughs it off. All four of us make another trip to the car to get the rest of the models to safety.

I consider myself a well-balanced all-around geek. I know my Star Wars/Trek/Craft, I been to anime conventions and bought rare comics online, so I believed I was pretty familiar with the ways of the geek. And sunday I got a sneak peak at a whole subculture I was only vaguely aware of.

Turns out people can get really into model making. I figure it is part craft, part escapism and even perhaps a hint of mind-confined roleplay.

To where I started: literary genres I like. I am in a cyberpunk renaissance of sorts, since I watched Blade Runner two weeks ago. I saw it once when I was a kid and loved it. Turns out it is a really cool movie.

Time to wrap this up, having no idea what was really the point of this post.

Damn, I missed my blog.