THAT SMARTS!!!

Not to toot my own horn, but I’m smart.

I’m no Einstein. I’m no Sheldon Cooper, but as he would point out, nobody is. I am also smart enough to know that there are lots of people smarter than me. I’ve considered going out for Mensa a couple times, I just never had the time or money for the test and membership dues. I was a student of the Milford Talented And Gifted program for four years in grade school, and I was accepted into New Haven’s Educational Center for the Arts. OK, y’know what? I’m bragging. I see that. But I don’t really care.

    Intelligence is something to proud of. Like I said, I know I’m not Shining Star Brilliant, but I’m no slouch, either. I retain information like a sponge, and I don’t even know where the hell I get some of it. My brain has a sort of informational static cling: shit just kinda sticks as I pass by. I’m evil when it comes to trivia, and I’ve been told more than a few times I should go out for Jeopardy. But I’m wandering again. It’s been said that if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Usually that means something physical, because when you flaunt something on an intellectual level, it’s called boasting. Or condescention.

    Some people like to say that intelligence is what separates humans from animals. I disagree. There are plenty of “dumb” animals that I feel are MUCH smarter than the average (and sometimes above average) human, and some things that “intelligent” humans do that make you long for the lackadaisical life of an animal. Just because we have logic and reason, it doesn’t necessarily make us smarter. Plus, smart people do stupid things just as easily as, well, stupid people. I shouldn’t say that. Stupid is as stupid does as the saying goes, and in reality, intelligence is a fairly flexible and relative term.

    As I said before, I grew up around smart people in various aspects of my life. My mother, though her memory is not what it was, is a very intelligent woman. My father, a retired mechanic and parts guy, is brilliant. So is my brother. I’ve often half-joked that out of the three of us I’m the dumb one. The problem with smart people is the occasional lack of common sense and street smarts. Because we are fairly socially awkward, we start out avoiding the real world so that when we’re finally forced into it, we’re not quite ready. It takes a little time to adjust to the pop that bubble makes, a little time to accept that the world we had imagined and read about isn’t the way it seems on TV. That’s when we realize there are some aspects in life in which we are NOT special, we’re just like everyone else.

    That can be frightening, especially to people who have been raised to believe they ARE special, that they are a member of an elite, select group of people who can think and perform cranial tasks above and beyond the norm. It’s that belief that makes so many “smart” people feel high and mighty above the others. We like to think and pretend that we’re not intellectually snobby or pretentious, but then you meet that ONE person (or in some cases, a few dozen people) that just make you want to twitch. You know the conversations, the ones where you hear what they have to say and you just stand there, blinking, trying to process it. It almost feels like trying to feed an antique punch-card into a supercomputer: it won’t work. You try and be genteel about it, you try and be diplomatic, so you smile and nod and try to keep from screaming out “DOES IT HURT WHEN YOU THINK, CUZ IT’S KILLING ME!!!”

    Stupid is a relative term, just like Smart is a relative term. We are only smart and/or stupid when compared to others. I go to trivia (almost) every Wednesday night with a couple of friends, and I say it (almost) every week: Sometimes I feel brilliant, other times I feel like Forrest Gump on Xanax. It happens especially if I’m stressed or tired and my brain isn’t quite functioning at full capacity. The other “big name” team on the other side of the bar usually trumps us, and it’s those days when they win by a larger-than-acceptable margin I feel like a total dope. However, there are nights when w come SOOOOOOO CLOOOOOOSE or even beat them WITH AUTHORITY that I feel that Cooperesque smugness building in my chest, and I simply have to strut out of the building with a huge grin on my face.

    Smart feels good. Having answers to the questions feels good. Solving the puzzle and solving the mystery feels good. It’s seeing everything line up and falling into place, leading you right to that finish line. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy my job: it’s puzzle solving, finding the missing pieces and putting them together, a chance to play hero and keep the plotline moving. I feel like Douglas House pulling miracles to save the next patient.

    At the same time, I understand and realize that not everyone is me. I understand that not everyone’s head moves the way mine does. It can be frustrating, especially when I’ve explained something as explicitly and simply as I can and it still doesn’t sink in. It’s those conversations with people whose thoughts should cause them physical pain. I’m not saying I’m above them. I myself have done things or said/thought things that upon reflection should have given me a migraine or a Gibbs-slap upside the head at the very least. Maybe we should have something implanted in our heads to give us a mild shock whenever our intelligence level drops below a certain point, a preemptive strike against stupidity to keep us from saying or doing that ONE little thing that’ll make someone else look at us in that cock-eyed way as if to say “Does your brain hear when your mouth is saying?”