Chronically Ironic

·Genius is Fleeting.

Having never really done any research on this subject, I can only speak from what I know must be true:  There is no way you can start out a tiny little genius and hope to stay that way.  If I seriously had an IQ of 148 when I was tested at age 8 or 9 or whenever the fuck that was, there is no waaaaay I am anywhere near that at this stage in my life.  How can a person with a 148 IQ sit happily eating popcorn salt with her fingers dredging the bottom of the bowl, sometimes even licking aforementioned bowl directly, watching UFC?  No WAY, I tell you. 

So if genius is fleeting, then the conclusion is, at best, depressing.  You begin as a blank slate.  You learn, you absorb, hopefully aided by your parents and/or guardians.  You do well, even in public schooling.  You are a prodigy in something.  Whatever.  But I think what happens after the prodigy-ness is crucial:  you either expand the horizons you have already set upon, or you stop fostering all your little prodigy-like habits and succumb to the mundane, the every-day, the “what-I-have-to-do-to-survive” way of thinking and of life.  You can still be “smart” but probably no longer astoundingly so; your bosses’ 13 year-old knows more algebra than you ever did, and the kid that always waves to you at the end of your street is 10 and making a diorama of Oedipus Rex.    You are intellectually surpassed, my 35 year-old friend.  Son of a BITCH. 

I go to my job every day and think I do the best job I can do.  It is mentally taxing.  Is it as mentally taxing as college was?  Probably not.  Do I read as much?  Definitely not.  For awhile, I would come home from work, take a nap, then get up and go to bed.  Wow.  Not much goin’ on there, huh.  Wooo hooo!!!  Smarty-Pants of the World, UNITE!!!  I’m fuckin’ ASLEEP!  WWWWWOOOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!  Drinking a bottle of wine every night meant nothing to me.  I got smarter with every guzzle.  In my sleep.  Christ.  I was on the fast track to dropping to Wal-Mart IQ.  (no shit, there are actually studies about that.) 

So here’s how to combat the depression, and while you may never regain your Genius Status, these are all easy things to do that can at least make you feel a little smarter than you did the day before:  Keep reading.  Listen to NPR.  Write if you like writing, or exercise some portion of your creative ability, at least once a week.  Talk to your friends, and try to talk to them about things that matter – not just about how you didn’t really like the way your haircolor turned out this time or why the guy at Starbuck’s can’t get the Mocha right if his fucking life depended on it.  Talk about politics, religion, all the things you’re not supposed to talk about in mixed company.  I’m not saying just bring it up out of the blue, and probably not while you are AT Starbuck’s as that is unbelievably pretentious – but do talk. 

And for god’s sake, turn off the fucking TV once in awhile – for, as thought-provoking as some shit is on television, can it really take the place of conversation?  It has – but look at where we’re going.  A society of loners, of The Lonely, trying to make things more “real” in an unreal (internet) environment…and we are getting it horribly wrong.  Connect.  Who really cares if you aren’t a prodigy in adulthood?  Just be yourself, and let other people communicate, in PERSON, with that self.  We all might just be a little less depressed.   Gotta go…it’s time for my Wellbutrin-Xanax Cocktail. 

The Short Bus