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| Xeogaming Forums - Sunset Waterfall - Genius Dies Young |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie!          Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 935 days Last activity: 935 days |
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| If you're friended on my LJ account, you've probably already read this. If not, here goes:
I started my accelerated schooling in third grade, after testing had discovered I possessed an IQ of 162 thanks in part to my father and his diligence to have me study the medical references, learn to speak three languages, write cursive, execute basic multiplication/division/algebraic equations, program in BASIC, and lastly, enjoy reading and writing. Being ambidextrous with the ability to read and write upside-down and backwards, I found that I was different from everybody else. But, I had a fatal flaw...I felt not the need to prove myself to anyone. I was arrogant, for a third grader, and it would be the downfall of my school career. My tests proved the intelligence, my homework proved the lacking drive to accomplish anything. I was (am) a dreamer. I talk to myself, regularly, all day as a result of having little or no friends growing up. So much now that I've created entire personalities and people that only exist in my head. It's great if I'm a novel writer (and I am), but not if I'm just fantasizing while driving to pass the time because my MP3 watch died. The genius testing continued on all of us in the program for the remainder of our school careers. To my knowledge, out of the forty that started in my class in fourth grade, the remaining twenty or so that made it to graduation featured only nine students that were still concidered "Gifted and Talented". I was one of the nine. To my surprise and elation, our valedictorian was no longer. She was proven to have the drive to accomplish things--labeled a "hard-worker"--but lacked the native intelligence to be maintained in the genius level of students. Student A awakes on the day of the SATs, first time taking them, with a heavy onset of the flu. The student arrives at school forgetting to bring along a calculator, and feeling horribly foggy, having a runny nose, a headache, and nausea. The student is admitted to the test anyway, and sits through the whole thing suffering through the onset of sickness. The student barely struggles through it, and walks home with feelings of a failure. Student B has studied diligently for the SATs. Has taken the PSATs several times. Has read every SAT prep book ever printed. Memorized new words. The student arrives at school prepared for every possible contigency. The examination begins, and the student breezes through the sections, having enough time to review the answers for each section. The student is confident, and noticing Student A's demeanor, feels even better about themselves. A few weeks later, results have arrived at each student's respective homes. At school, Student B finds Student A and asks what how A did on the test. You want an answer, keep reading. Our valedictorian is Student B. To an extent, I was Student B, until the onset of middle school where I became corrupted when I discovered my weirdness could get me friends. Real friends, not those that my overactive imagination had created. I think it's time to name off the people I've created in my head. If you catch me talking to myself, it's probably to one of these (whom I do voice, have their own personalities, and I do answer): Brandon Nelson--personal assistant. Straight. Engaged to be married to Janine, one of my former students at the Oakridge University in Oakridge. Valuable asset to the company. Ensures I can run my day despite my own lacking of organization. Is my human (kind-of) personal organizer. Brian--head of my CBIS (Creative Borrowing Information Systems) collective. Corey--head of creative services for Almodovar Enterprises. Lives in Tokyo to stay with his boyfriend and oversee my AnimExcel company in Tokyo. Fun man, and high attention to detail keeps the anime division of the company producing gold. Kenneth--senior driver. Takes care of all vehicles. Handles repair and maintenance. Hans--actual driver. Picks me up at the airport, and goes along on trips with me. Great driver, but horribly absent minded person. Kathy--absent-minded receptionist for Almodovar Enterprises -- Los Angeles. Cute girl, but a little ditzy. Oddly perky. Carol Nelson--Brandon's mom. My original assistant. Now, receptionist for Almodovar Enterprises -- New York. Pat Urquidi--fight coordinator for Excelsior Productions (based on someone I actually know). Stevan Krystofer Almodovar-Martyn -- my fifteen year old straight son, somehow born from an invitro fertilization combination of both mine and Ian's sperm, with Salina as a host mother. Quirky kid, found it quite difficult to disclose to his fathers that he is straight. Hates that his initials spell SKAM, and that I took such artistic/linguistic endeavor in creating his first and middle name. Jamie--Stevan's girlfriend. Has known Stevan since third grade. Strong girl, obviously the pants in the relationship. Quirky as well, but calls me rich dad and Ian the cool dad. ...and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I was Student A in that scenario. My valedictorian approached me to inquire as to my score, given my condition during the examination. I inquired as to her score first, after all, she is valedictorian. Nine hundred. Total score. Her score was 900. The first time. After all that studying, a measure of cranial capacity yielded a nine hundred. Then, and now, I understood that her measly score was greatly offset by her GPA. She needed to work hard because she lacked the innate intelligence to get into a university. "So, what was your score, Lee?" These words are so sweet and innocent. I had to crush her. So, I told her the truth, and showed her my results. "1200." And, satisfied with my efforts, I grabbed my results and walked away. My GPA wasn't the best in school, but I ranked in the top 50 students, so I was quite content. Very smug, very snooty, but content. The smile couldn't have been bigger. My day was uplifted. Her shock and awe was my validation. Later that year, under the coaxing of my counselor, I retook the SATs. She was there again, and this time I came prepared. I even studied. Luckily, they keep the higher score, because apparently studying makes my brain turn into mush. "850." Eight-fifty!? How the fuck did I score an eight-fifty? I tell you how, I studied. She managed to raise her score to a 1100. No matter. A final time, my counselor forced me to retest using the same method I had the first time in hopes of a better score. So, I didn't study. I arrived at the test without my calculator. I sat down in the Little Theater, pencil and eraser ready, and stared at the clock. A few hours later, I emerged into the subdued sunlight. A few weeks later, I delivered my sealed results to my counselor. She sat in her office, a cacophony of 60s style decor complete with lava lamps, and held my envelope. She opened it carefully, and I watched her eyes widen as she read my score. I closed the door. She stood up, came around her desk, and hugged me. But, it was an empty hug. The kind of hug you get when "you've tried your best". What? Was it lower? "1200, Lee." I stood there for a moment. "I told you," I paused and removed another letter from my backpack, "and I got in to UCLA and CSU..." she cut me off. I was muffled by another hug--this time feeling as real as ever. She was proud. She had suffered so much as my counselor through the years, and now her hard work and favors had finally shown through. "But," I started, "we can't afford it. Even with financial aid, I can't afford to go." She let go, and sat on her desk. I had killed her dreams. I lost touch with her after graduation. Back to my genius. That little me that used to sit with the girls and make flower necklaces, talk to himself, and just stare at the clouds nurturing that 162 IQ still runs around inside me wondering what happened. At graduation, I tested at 164 IQ. A barrage of tests in college confirmed what I had feared, I was losing it. 150 IQ. And dropping. Why? I don't nurture it. I've become a techy. Rather than keep my brain "muscles" flexing, I let them get weak. I let them die. I let my younger self down. Shit's gotta change. And it will. Technically, I'm still considered a genius. But, why has it gotten me nowhere? I love museums. I love the written word. I adore Ian. I study languages, civic engineering, computer science, gaming design, and a myriad other subject on my own! I have so many books they're strewn about my entire house and car! So, where did that younger Lee go? Is he still lying on that field, staring up at the clouds wondering why his older self is such a loser? Am I justified in feeling this way? Have I let myself down? Or, is it just the horrible tendency to compare myself to other people? |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable  Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 101 days Last activity: 101 days |
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| It's comparing yourself to other people. I mean, sure, if you kept yourself focused you would have been done already, but it's not.
Besides, IQ testing when you are older is never as accurate and often lower, that is why they test you so early. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 935 days Last activity: 935 days |
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| I know...I just have this tendency to wonder why my cousins are able to afford a brand new BMW (Junior's older brother) and why I can barely scrimp by month-to-month. Damn it! I want my Prius. | |||
GuardianOni Shaman  Since: 09-07-04 From: The dark path Since last post: 5842 days Last activity: 5301 days |
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| The one and only time I had my IQ tested I got a 92.
In my high school there was an "honor award" for students that got a 2.5 GPA or higher. I was one of five that didn't get it. That's the past. Here's the present. My GPA is barely 2.0, and basic concepts confuse me. So if you feel you've got to compare you self with someone go a head. Look Lee. If you want to find any sort of validation. Go find it. The only one that can validate you is you. Sounds like some stupid concept that should be on a hallmark card, but it's true. We can all tell you what we think of you, but only the parts you will let sink in will affect you. As for your Prius. You know how to get a job. And you know how the world works. If you really want something go and get it. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 935 days Last activity: 935 days |
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| Thanks...it's just that I'm so used to being the person that tells people to do the obvious that I forget to take my own advice. I just needed somebody else to yell at me.
*hug the oni!* |
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Makura Since: 01-22-05 From: The restaurant at the end of the universe.... Since last post: 5888 days Last activity: 5154 days |
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| Sorry it's taken me so long ot respond to this Zabuza, and just to let you know, I might be posting this for my benefit..that might not make sense.
I too have wondered about my, "genius dying young," because when I was six I was diagnosed with a form of acute autism, because I did math in color and my numbers had personalities. I'm not autistic and i altered my ways of learning to fit the "normal" learning style. But now, I don't do as well. So..should I have remained unique and a "genius" or normal and just "smart?" I can relate, and my only advice to you is: Be you. Whatever that may be, genius or not be whoever you are. |
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