The Curse of Being a Genius

Each morning as I drive to work, I pass by the Pal's billboard. Today, it says: SAVE ENERGY, TURN OFF THE LIGHTS. Then it begins. Energy comes from coal. Coal comes from decomposed plants. Plants thrive in the sun. The sun is energy and the sun produces light. So: save sun, turn off the sun. Light is also energy. Solar energy can replace coal. Light lets us read billboard signs. I can read the billboard when the lights are on. But if the lights are off, I can't read why they're off. If I can't heed the advice, the sign is meaningless. It took energy to put up the sign. People use energy. I have energy. I get it from food. Food is plants. You are what you eat. Therefore, I am a plant, I am coal, and I am energy. I am a child of the sun. My car glides into a parking space and I glance over my shoulder to see the fiery globe peeking up over the horizon. It looks beautiful and I am overwhelmed by how truly important it is to my very existence.

Now you have an idea of what it's like to be me. The thing is, this feels very normal. And for a long time, this is how I believed everyone thought. According to the tests, my IQ is between 135 and 145. This didn't have any meaning to me until I learned that only 2% of the population is higher than 130 and genius is 140. Holy crap. I don't feel that smart. In fact, I feel pretty normal. But over time, I became aware that most people don't comprehend things on the level that I do. And what surprised me most is that many people don't even try.

It may bother me occasionally when someone doesn't understand what I'm talking about.  I think differently, so I find it difficult to communicate with others.  Frustrating as it is, I've learned to accept it.  What really gets me is when folk don't even try to understand.  They don't want to. Example:  In the midst of flu season, I arrive at my desk and my neighbor says, "How you doing this morning?"  Feeling witty, I reply, "Good, now that I've safely navigated through the miasma."  She responds in her thick, southern accent, "Hwhat?"  It seemed like a normal word to me, but I guess she hadn't heard the word "miasma" before.  I say the word again and wait for her to ask me what it means.  She doesn't.  "Oookay," she says and turns to get to work.  I'm shocked that she didn't even care what the word meant.  She didn't get the joke, didn't want to.  Doesn't even have the desire to learn.  I've met a lot of people like that.  They just kind of smile and nod and then go watch American Idol.  Blows me away.  How can you not want to know everything about everything?

I can't really blame others, though. Even if someone has an IQ of 100 (that's average), he is going to think and act within his capabilities. Still, I can't help but wonder, "How can you live day by day without realizing the connections among all these things and how important they really are in everything you do?" Maybe I really am intellectually gifted, but I have no frame of reference. I don't know what it's like to not think this way. And I don't understand how someone doesn't. Again, it frustrates me.

I may be a smart bloke, but I'm not a true genius. A true genius is more than IQ. They are also talented and have the ambition to make their ideas come true, like Leonardo da Vinci. I often wonder how he might have felt. Was he frustrated that people didn't understand the significance of the flying machine? Did he get tired have having to explain over and over how it worked? Was he concerned that others could not see all seventeen layers of deep meaning woven into his Mona Lisa? Even though he was adored throughout his life, did he feel alone in the world with no one to understand him?

I always try to think outside the box. It's important to experiment with new ways of doing things or finding new angles of looking. It's how improvements are discovered. Sometimes though, I am so far outside that I can't see the box that everyone else is in. That worries me that I may have lost perspective - that I may be drifting into a magical Hankland. One of my greatest fears is losing my mind.  And moreso, not knowing that I'm losing it. Sometimes, I wonder if I'll end up as the crazy old man on the hill. "There goes Old Man Hank rambling on about life, the universe, and everything again.  Just smile and nod and maybe he'll go away soon.  I'd hate to miss the season finale of Survivor."

I think I've gone and depressed myself.  Damn this curse of mine.

Hank

P.S. Have you looked up "miasma" yet? Dictionary.com