Confessions of a science fiction junkie

I love science fiction. It's what I grew up watching.

I had "Sesame Street" in the morning, "Batman" in the afternoons and, once a week, an episode of "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

When I watched Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his crew walk around on the Enterprise bridge, I didn't understand 90 percent of what was going on, but I'll be damned if it didn't look awesome to my 6-year-old mind.

Let me be clear - I am a fan, not a fanatic.

I have never attended a Star Trek convention, I will not run errands in a Jedi robe, and I refuse to debate whether the new Cylons can win a fight against Jaffa warriors.

Then again, I can do the Vulcan salute, I readily fantasize about bisecting annoying people with a lightsaber, and I have used the word "frak" as an expletive in real life.

The new fall television season started in September, and I've found that all these shows I have loved are back in my life - shows such as "Heroes," "Dollhouse" and "Fringe."

They came back from wherever they went for the summer and brought back new buddies - "Stargate: Universe," "Flash Forward" and "V."

These shows are my drugs, but I can't seem to get a fix.

I lay awake at night, and when I'm not worrying about an interview or my next assignment, I worry about what's happening to my characters.

What improbably gruesome death did the cheerleader suffer today?

Who crossed the wrong wires and blew up half a star system this week?

Curse my calendar's sudden but inevitable betrayal!

I used to be able to make time to watch any shows I wanted, but now I have hardly any time at all.

Instead of watching majestic and badass-looking starships zoom through the vastness of space, I have to make do with Korean dramas, cop shows and reality television.

What's all the more galling is the fact that none of this was unexpected.

Time-wise, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I knew what kind of time investment I would have to make to keep up with my work and all my classes, and yet the time I allotted was not enough.

I swear, by Grabthar's hammer and the sons of Warvan, I will watch my shows on Hulu!

I suppose if my timetable stays the way it is, I'm going to need a support group to help me kick this TV-watching habit.

I can imagine how that scenario would play out.

The room is empty when I walk in, save for a circle of chairs facing inward.

I take a seat and wait for others to arrive, using the time to indulge all of my nervous tics - crossing and uncrossing my legs and pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time without ever really looking at it.

The others file in slowly, most alone or in pairs, plus an occasional group of people who I assume met outside.

Most are dressed in street clothes like I am, but there are a few standouts that make me smile in spite of myself.

There is a man and woman in tan and brown robes with short tubes attached to their belts, a tall man with a heavily ridged forehead wearing metal and leather armor, and a quartet of soldiers with pyramid patches on their arms.

Taking a sip from a water bottle I brought with me, I stand and clear my throat to speak.

"Hi, my name is Ryan, and I'm a science fiction fan."

Reprinting from http://media.www.thespartandaily.com/, wrote by Ryan Fernandez.