Mensa Madness

I'm not so sure that being a genius is all it's cracked up to be. I remember when I was on the kibbutz someone told me, while making no claim that I was a genius to be fair, that I was just smart enough to have a miserable life. That only people of average intelligence and below could lead happy lives, and that such happiness would be denied to me. I would be frustrated with people and feel out of place, but there would still be millions of things beyond my comprehension. I remember how painful it felt knowing that I wasn't smart enough to be classified as a genius, that I wouldn't be the one to cure cancer or whatever, but I was smart enough to be miserable. At least if you're a genius you get the curse AND the blessing, rather than just the curse.

Then today I met a genius. An actual, bonafide, certified and whatever genius. How do I know? Because she told me so.

She had gone on this long rant about how when she was a cheerleader she wished to be recognized as being so much more than a cute girl in a skirt. You could tell that the real point of the conversation was not all of this because of how uninterested she sounded while talking about it. Her description of her life as a cheerleader felt rushed and almost mumbled, like she was talking about something less important than what kind of toothpaste she uses. Really, this was just a set-up so that she could tell us, "Yes, and everyone thought I was just a dumb cheerleader when really I AM IN MENSA."

Maybe her voice didn't really go up several decibels, and maybe she didn't really look around at those of us gathered at the table to make sure that EVERYONE had heard the good news that we had been graced with the presence of this genius--but it sure felt like it. Clearly this girl was constantly looking for any opportunity to drop that line into a conversation, so that we mere mortals would know that this veritable Athena had graciously condescended to dine with us.

I gotta admit that for a moment I felt jealous. Why am I some retarded clown who says stupid things in class while this girl gets to be in Mensa?

But then I thought about it. What kind of life is it to be a genius? Does she really get a blessing that I don't have? She's not curing cancer. She's working in a university maintenance office. But does she get the curse that I get? Yes. She seems frustrated by the stupidity of others, except in her case I'm guessing most people are stupider than her (while only a few are stupider than I am). Even worse, she's now doomed to constantly remind others in her presence that she's not like them, that she's in Mensa.

And, well, I'm glad I can't tell anyone that I'm in Mensa. I'm glad that I'm smart enough that I don't require adult supervision but stupid enough to have moments where I silently wonder to myself if I'm borderline retarded. I'm GLAD that some things in this world are still a mystery. I'm proud of the fact that, in spite of almost a decade of working with lighting equipment in theaters, I still don't understand the concept of electricity, instead preferring to believe that in each light bulb lives a Tinkerbell. I'm thrilled that I think that the microwave cooks my food with its light bulb, and that when I'm not looking the girl in the mirror makes faces at me. Being the non-genius that I am, gravity is actually just willpower and planes only work because on every flight someone is on board constantly praying to G-d that it stays in the air (which is why I make sure to take care of that).

Yeah, I may be an idiot sometimes, but I'd rather be an idiot than a desperate Mensan. Hooray for the blessings of idiocy.