Testing, Testing, 1… 2… 3…

Most of the last 48 hours have been nothing but blood, sweat, and tears… literally. The summer months are coming to an end which means outdoor repairs are in greater need of being finished. I can’t put them off any longer.

Even though I have acrophobia, I’ve been up on the roof of my attached garage painting window sills which have been left to rot by two decades of delinquent ownership. That upsets me. People upset me frequently, if you hadn’t noticed. I have no idea how that chippy, little drive-through worker escaped with only stone silence from me. After 6 hours of being in the muggy August weather and having my polite order cut off by a terse, disembodied voice, she should be nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash. I think the heat simply sucked the energy right out of me. She’s still a miserable zero though.

I threw myself into a tizzy this morning (shocking, I know), but knew I would end up there. It’s my fault for doing so, but the emotions don’t care about that. They never care about a rational argument; they just exist.

There was a conversation last night among a few of my friends about the MENSA quiz. We arrived at this point by discussing how Hooterville does not know how to serve its more intelligent students. Instead of providing a more comfortable learning atmosphere, it bashes, mashes, and terrorizes students to be of average intelligence (i.e. not sticking out). When my friend arrived at this conclusion, it was like a moment of clarity for me. Even one of my childhood terrors admitted to me recently that I was too smart, and it frightened him.

With last night’s discussion in mind, I stared at the MENSA website for a full five minutes. Part of me wanted to know what was behind door number one, but the other part boiled over with anger and outrage. I hate tests. Not just hate them, I royally hate them. That’s the most I can say without going into a litany of profanity-laced speech. The entire concept of testing has become a disgusting joke to me.

As always I speak for myself, as there are plenty who merely get nervous but don’t truly mind testing. For me this is smitten with righteous indignation. After my internal war was fought, I closed the lid to my laptop and went outside to paint Stonefield. No longer will I prove my worth to others. The time for that has long since past. I don’t even need to prove anything to myself, as I know deep down I can make it happen whatever it may be. I don’t have to be in MENSA or NHS or any other academic circle to demonstrate my intelligence. With my persistence, it will be shown to others. If I’m lucky, it will be within my lifetime.

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4 thoughts on “Testing, Testing, 1… 2… 3…

  1. kerbey says:

    i already know you’re a smartypants

  2. I know I would fail the MENSA test, but MTM wouldn’t. His mother still won’t tell him how high he tested in school, for fear of it going to his head. Ha.

    • For some, it’s a feather in their cap. More power to them, I say. This is more personal for me with the way society has set up benchmarks rather than comparing myself with others in the community. I’d like to think of my life as “generally traditional, but knows when to brandish a machete and cut down the tall grass.”

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