What if I told you I was a Genius?

Certified even. Ha Ha.

Nobody cares. It’s the truth.

I found out when they tested me in third grade, literally gave me an IQ test twice. Apparently, because they were confused as to why I tested so high but was failing in school. My parents didn’t care, other kids didn’t care, aunts, uncles, cousins… it did not impress a single one of them. In some cases they even thought I was making it up*. They definitely thought I was obnoxious about it, and looking back, I know I was.

 My report cards were mostly C's and D's, with a sprinkling of F's.  

The exception teachers who tested me, now, they were impressed. Granted, it was a kind of a pitying, hey kid maybe you have a chance, impressed. I doubt anyone considered me a savant except the librarian. Because academically speaking, it was my first real and maybe only accomplishment. Unless you count being autodidact learning for fun, or reading every book in the school library, and it turns out, they did not.

They made me take the test twice that first time and later in school at least twice, junior high and high school. Not sure if it was to make sure I wasn’t cheating or it was a fluke and I just guessed right I guess. But again. I scored at the top two percentile certificate.

Before the tests, all my teachers hated me, in grade school, – and beyond, I was always daydreaming or reading in their class, instead of paying attention to what they were saying. Unless I was correcting them when they misquoted the text book. I never turned in homework, talked in class when I wasn’t reading. Argued with them even if I was in trouble. Had a tardiness problem from kindergarten on. Yeah, not exactly teachers, or principals, pet.

Thinking back, they hated me after the tests too.

Turns out I was a little shit without respect for authority. I did, and still do, set off the authoritarian types, because well, I don’t obey rules I see no value to. But we’ll get more into that in a bit. But Still… “After the tests”, some of the teachers tried mentoring me…

I got put in the smart kid classes.. In junior high they put me in what was known in the Lost Angeles School district back then, as “Mentally Gifted Minors” or MGM as it was called.

The math teacher decided to “mentor me” in the disguise of a disciplinary action. I was to report to him note book in hand, and show him my class notes, homework assignments, projects. All organized and neat at the beginning of school and after every class.

Poor guy, I was horrible at it(keeping things neat organizing, taking notes) and hated it. Despite his efforts, I still flunked, or maybe because of them. I resented the draconian methods and constraint… Though the flunk became an incomplete because we moved before the semester ended. And that a is another story in a long line of opportunity lost.

Hubris

In Freshman year after aptitude test – I decided I wanted to help people and become a doctor, the plan – university and medical school. Fast track courses for college, while still in High School, so I could get my nursing degree the year after I graduated, to pay for it. The beauty of it being I could use the course credits.

Enrolled in classes geared for that path,

  • German because they didn’t offer Latin,
  • Algebra,
  • government/civics
  • Biology
  • English

I finished homework in class and turned it in the same day, I studied, I turned in papers… I aced more than one class with A’s … But then…

Biology 101. Dean, The Water Polo captain sat directly across from me in class. I was a teenage girl, he was like candy in a candy store, toned, tanned, handsome, he took up a lot of head room. Making concentrating on the lecture part of the class that was homework related and not in the text book difficult. Add that to the seven stages of mitosis and microscopes. F. and D. Never even cracked a C in that class, even though I aced the tests, except for the finals – which were lab based.

Our teacher was very lab oriented based on his grading, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not see it through the microscope, I could not see the pattern. I was able to outline the process and give you the name of the stages but I was unable to identify them in lab*.

I did ace the other two Science classes I had to take to make up for it, but it didn’t alleviate that big old fat F.

Kind of devastating to my plan to become a doctor. Biology and GPA are the cornerstones of that educational path.

In the mean time I got 3 years of German, kindled an interest in civics, did fairly well in math, and took classes on medical terminology, medical assistant classes, front and back office. and a “Unit Secretary” course. And earned enough extra credit to only need to attend 4 classes a semester my Senior year.

*Years later in  one of the undergrad psychology majors that i worked with (as a Unit Secretary) in a psychiatric facility gave me a test as a part of a project he was working on,  and told me I have a mild case of face blindness which is related to failure in pattern recognition

I did try like hell to reach “My potential”

But it was quite a

Truth be told, after a while, you tend to start to believe maybe in the scheme of things, being a genius over all in life, is not all that important, or a magic portal to success. And in some cases it can be a real drag. And it sure doesn’t mean that you don’t make mistakes, or get things wrong. Or become a rocket scientist. I read somewhere that a majority of geniuses don’t become Doctors and Lawyers and such as the song goes.

And when you grow up, you find out early that, without a degree to back the genius, employers don’t care either. At least until they see the benefits, after they hire you.

These days, I don’t tend to tell people that I’m a genius, except as a warning because I can tell they are underestimating my grasp on the situation. Mostly, I prefer to let people figure it out themselves. I like in many way how this doesn’t get in the way of starting relationships with people, or expectations. Or disappointment.

Jokes on You

You think i wasn’t aware all along

of the jokes you been makin’

the lies you been tellin’

The webs you been spinnin’

all over town

posing as the fly

well joker, jokes on you

some of them really were my friends

and i didn’t need them

if they believed you

I didn’t need them

if they thought you did right

didn’t question, didn’t ask me

yeah, joker

joke is on you

Cause I don’t care what you say

What you do.

I’m out of your lies

Out of your web

I give up, you win.

I’ll get on with my life

and not give it another thought

you keep sayin’ things

if it makes you feel better

the jokes on you

the only way to win this game

is not to play.

cause if they believed you

i don’t need them

Avoid Debt

My Dad taught me a lot. Not always by what he said but how he lived. And of course, I didn’t always know he was showing me at the time, but in the end, it all made sense.

Not that he didn’t have his faults, but he was a pretty good Dad. Strict.

But then, I was a Wild teen of the 70’s, and the discipline was probably a good thing to keep me on the up and up and learning about consequences and responsibilities was valuable.

I live in a fixer upper. I’ve lived in a fixer upper since childhood, even when there was brand new construction, because my dad, he liked to tear things up, errr, fix things up himself.. In his last house,, a homesteaded cabin in the high desert, he took out the supporting beam to take out the wall between the back porch and the living room (to enlarge it) and ended up using a telephone pole to prop up his house. No Lie.

That was not as scary as the 225 live wire that hung down from the ceiling about 5 ft away. Not surprisingly this was part of a project that was left unfinished for 20 years. just like the drywall in the living room, and many other projects.

During the late 70s, in another house, a mid-century Daddy covered the open beam ceilings, the windows and sliding glass door of the west wall in the living room, and the in drywall and insulation and closed off the windows at the top of the ceilings… Sort of stucco’d the outside, a job finished much later by my brother in law, I think.

I was sad when he covered those windows. Those windows, besides being the hall mark of the iconic look and some very groovy natural light. Very sad, but his ceiling came out pretty good, and at least he left the height. I was worried he was going to do a drop ceiling.

His main reasoning was to cut down on the heating bills. -Everybody needs a hobby, my dad’s was “doing it himself”. And saving money.

My house is a fixer upper. Sort of a natural disaster

But it’s mine. And well, it’s mine.

All so I could avoid debt.

But of course nobody can avoid debt… it is apparently what makes things go around these days

Hopefully, I’m just as content to wait to see my ideas come to fruition as this house becomes my home and not just a house. I will not be covering any windows, except with curtains.

Lessons

Sad Girl Clown

even after I realized

they didn’t love me,

I had the problem

I still loved them

even after I realized

That they didn’t want me

I had the problem

that I still wanted,

even after I knew

all the things

what they said,

the lies.

the truth

what they did,

I had the problem

I still loved them

so I tried to hold on

so they did it again,

on a grander scale

And even now

after all the bridges burned

and lessons learned

I still have the problem

That I love them.

Not my bread

i do not live as you
lies are not my bread
mean gossip
backstabbing games
when people ask
i tell them my name
when i care
i am easily led
when i don’t
i see
i tolerate
look you in the eyes
try to stay civil
but honey
i just as soon you
get out my face


i

I ran out of time

I was going to write a poem

About a guy

I used to know,

When he was just a boy

And I was just a girl

A cute boy

A nice boy

That’s as far as it got

before i was reminded,

i have a life.

And nice has never been

my thing.

Something ain’t right

All those times
I'd get so mad
I screamed so loud
but nobody heard
Nobody listened
All those times
I tried to tell you
but you never heard me
All the things
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
All those times I cried
because I knew
Something ain't right
Years passed,
 I learned to swallow back
the screams,
the tears
the grief
the fear
the anger
Put on on my Big Girl Pants 
I walked on,
alone
 I  survived
and Still..
Something ain't right.

Because Love

Sad Girl Clown

The saddest thing is to love someone that you don’t like very much.

Or maybe it is to love someone knowing they are using you, even abusing you, but you still try. Every time, they betray or abandon you, you still trying to please them, to help them.. Make things bettor for them. You forgive them.
Because you cannot help that leap of joy that you feel every time you see their faces that overpowers any logic, self respect, or resolve you might have. Pushing aside memories and even fresh pain or anger, or bruises, that damn joy bubbles right on out there front and center, eating away at the reality of it. Of course only to get popped by the next dose of reality.

And then of course there is the sadness of mistaking sexual desire for love.

We could call that the roller coaster of sadness I guess, the Low points, outside the deep plunges of grief. I think the peaks, from those bad relationships, are the dopamine lobe bombings and they only seem like peaks because of the steepness of the downward slope.

Or maybe it’s grief and having someone you love, die in front of you, confused, scared, too stubborn or to hopeless, try to save themselves, refuse treatment, say fuck it all with their addictions, illness, pain and suffering, unable to see past them. This one in itself has a varying degree of sadness I have found, from the primal piercing hole in your gut, that makes you howl in rage, loose your mind, destroys you for a time, or the sadness that is more gentle, more accepting, but also primal and sharp, intense. I have found the degree of sadness varies widely with the circumstance, the person. And is too often accompanied by anger.

Least Sad

Not sure if I can tell you what the Saddest Thing is. But I can tell you what the Least of the Saddest is, regrets.

Regrets? Yes, regrets. Memories of things you wish you’d done better, things that you did wrong. When you chose the wrong path. Regrets in their nature are a hope, and fodder, for growth. A brick, that is, if you will, a block of strength in your moral nature. Maybe regrets are all that save the rest of us from being sociopaths. Or Narcissist

Of course not to say that sociopaths, and narcissist don’t have regrets of a sort. They regret losing you, because then you are out of their control, they regret not getting more out of you. They regret how stupid, how crazy you are, how stubborn you are, and how you make them do it. To them it is very sad that you just can’t see it from their view point. That they only did it for “your own good”. You know, despite of course that “you” in the “your own” really means “my own good”.

So yes, regrets wins leading the Least Sad Parade. Perhaps coming in right behind is the Accepting kind of sad, the letting go kind of sad.

Personally speaking

When speaking of romantic love, familial love, of friendship love. Eros, Storge, Philia, or Agape; name the love, honey, and I’ve experienced every single of the above sadness with that love.

Regrets? Not so many. But a few mistakes in life. Some quite profound, shameful even. Regrets from when I let myself and others down, hurt someone, did not react as gracefully as I should of. Others more trivial, missed opportunity, a trip down a garden walk I shouldn’t have taken, a meltdown instead of a discussion …

Either way I try to avoid repeating my false steps, or beating myself up over them. I have to accept that I did the best I could, I’ll spare you the “in the circumstances” part of that rationalization.

2019 a time of uncertainty

Like any other. I wish it was new…

This flutter of hope I have that things will get better. But no, I’ve felt it before. I must not give into the weakness that comes with that flutter…

So I shall remain forever cynical. Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad.