I can’t stop thinking about Zachary Quinto.
Watching him play Spock last night (yes, I went to the opening night, and I am apparently not afraid to admit it) was like watching Nimoy on TV when I was kid.
Watching Nimoy play Spock in the movies doesn’t do the same thing to me. He’s still great at it, but Spock as a senior citizen has too much gravitas, too much surety, too much warmth for me. Give me Spock as the awkward colt, all angles and undiscovered grace. Give him to me hiding his pain under a thousand layers of reason. Give him to me as the eager know-it-all who will never, ever, ever understand how deeply unattractive it all is.
And yeah, that was me, of course. Of course that was me.
Extra points for those who have figured out that if I was a skinny young Spock, face in a book, hiding from the bullies whose scorn I did not understand, then who was my sister? My sister, running, hitting balls, driving cars fast, taking chances I would never have taken? Who could she have been?
That’s right. Isn’t it funny that we both grew up admiring one half of that famous duo, and then, in a way, grew up to be those same people?
There are more similarities in the relationship than propriety will allow me to express. We both went through a period in our youth when we could barely tolerate each other, when we each believed ourselves to be so profoundly right, that we could not stand to see the other act differently than us, and yet feel the same. We still could hardly be more different considering that we grew up alongside one another. And it's not as if we could fall back upon a familial resemblance, I mean, it used to be a family joke that strangers would look at us and not believe that we were related, much less sisters.
Suffice it to say that now, we are like war buddies. We travel well together. She asks me what I think about things when I can tell she is gathering information for a decision. She values what I think. She is too much her own person to be truly swayed by anyone, but she gives it weight, I can tell.
And she pushes me to do things I would not otherwise choose to do. She pushes me forward, and forces me to step through the invisible web of caution and reason that I weave around me. Within the comfort of our familiarity, I find that I can do extraordinary things. Surprising things. I need that. Man, I will always need that.
And I’m glad I saw that movie last night, because without all the embarrassing bloat of age and bad rugs and fallen faces, the Star Trek world became nimble again, became possible again, in a way. Look, I’m not the first one who has compared our president to the world’s most famous Vulcan, and it’s not surprising that Obama himself is a fan; a fan who gave Nimoy, when he met him face-to-face, the Vulcan salute.
I just want to believe that we can save ourselves and this world we inhabit. I just want us to think, uh, logically about things, and stop letting our revulsion at something that’s different from us stop us from doing what’s right for all us. After all, the needs of the many…they outweigh the needs of the few, right?
It’s encouraging that young people are becoming less religious. I think it’s a good sign. Not that they’re less spiritual, or even less truly religious, but that they’re giving up the church. The church has overstayed its welcome and abused its privileges. Time for the church to go, and for reason to take the day. I hope it’s not too late.
Live long and prosper, readers.