Social Security day and payday decided to join forces and gang rape me today at the bank. I also now believe in zombies because everybody I helped today at least had a tainted brain if any brain at all. They had the sickness. One lady: "I need to withdraw $20. Seven ones, three dollars in quarters, and two fives. No, make it $27, with seven ones, two fives, and a ten. No, just make it an even thirty with ten ones, two fives, and a ten." To add fuel to the hellfire, our teller line was staffed by myself and Danny, who frequently man the teller line. It was also staffed by Francis and Michelle, my two managers, who NEVER belly up to a drawer. It was ridiculous. I now hate the elderly and the working class until Sunday.
I signed up for a MENSA home test a few days ago and the packet arrived today. It's basically a cheap way for one to weed their person out of the potential MENSA field. For $18, you get a neat little standardized testing packet. Thirty minutes and eighty questions later, you get to send it back to MENSA for ten confidence-crippling days, and then you look your score up online. I've never been so scared shitless for something that means nothing. If I'm not smart enough to be in MENSA, nothing will change in my life at all, except that I will KNOW that I'm not smart enough to be in MENSA. I've always thought that I was. 97% percentile. If I'm in a room with one hundred people, I only have to be smarter than ninety-seven of them. However, my room is full of ninety-seven ghosts with utensils of death. Ghosts of reality. I exist in the physical world, but I spend most of my time spelunking in my own brain. No matter when you're talking to me, I'm imagining something else. If you say "potato" I'm suddenly wondering what it would have been Irish and live during the famine. I'm remembering my potato clock that ran off of the decaying potatoes in the little holders. I say "huh" and "what" a lot not because I don't hear people, but because my brain is busy with something else. Spending so much time inside of my own brain, I've imagined entire lives for myself based off of singular decisions. How does my life end if I choose to be a banker? How about crack-addict? Spending so much time in my own little world has made me think that my brain is somehow more developed in the standardized testable way than most of the people around me. An IQ test doesn't delineate intelligence any more than a measuring cup, as they are both sort of a gauge of capacity, but it's the gauge we use. It's the gauge that scares the shit out of me because it could be the gauge that tells me that I'm not the person that I've always thought I was. That I've been lying to myself about this. And if I've lied to myself about this, what else might I have lied to myself about? I've built this test (unofficial practice test, mind you) into the base rock of my hippie rock balancing tower, and I don't want it to fall. But I'm going to poke it and see what happens.
I have to wrap the blog up now as I'm on my way to *again* see if I can get a date with Jamie the random bartender. I missed her on Sunday night as I went in after 8pm, which was the time she left for the evening. The odd coincidence is that the girl who replaced her happened to be Michelle Sullivan, whom I went to Wesleyan with. We chit-chatted and she told me that Jamie works tonight at 8pm (nine minutes from now). To avoid stalkerishness, I'm going over around 8:30ish. I realize that it's still stalkerish. If this falls through I guess I'll just have to find out her phone number and call her. But I'll probably be too nervous to talk to her and afraid that she won't remember me so I'll just hang up when she answers or breathe heavily into the receiver until she hangs up. Then, I'll feel bad about that, so I'll have to find out where she lives, but she'll never answer the door because she doesn't remember me, so I'll have to follow her home from work one day but then she'll run away screaming and call the cops because she still doesn't remember me and then...
Warning: The preceding was a joke. It will cease to be funny when it somehow gets me arrested anyway. I'm sure it will be very funny to all of you.
4 comments:
You can also take the Mensa practice test online and get instant results. It told me that I had a "good chance" or qualifying for membership (22 out of 30).
Yes, I am that sad. I spent the other night finding random IQ type tests to do in order to not do any real work.
And it scares me how similar our thought processes are. They probably shouldn't be in less than a 500 mile radius of eachother. Good thing I'm moving at some point.
I've already taken it and they haven't changed it in years. I don't remember what I scored on my initial try, but I ace it now because they don't change it.
I'm also glad that the post didn't come off as arrogant and dickish.
Did you get a date?
I find out Wednesday.
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