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You know the old adage: "Takes one to know one."
How about: "Two birds of a feather, flock together."

You know right? If not, what they're saying is that people of the same mind tend to hang together, making a clique of sorts. For example, the jocks hang with other jocks, the cheerleaders play with only the "pretty" crowd, and the nerds, well, they build robots together in their spare time, with Lego and paperclips.

I sure hope this is a truism, because looking back, all my life I've hung out with smart folks. Other than grade 9, my scholastic years were all with people who's IQ was higher than I could ever hope to count. Even in university, where I was in a state of perpetual anti-socialistic behaviour, the 2 or 3 good friends I have are really bright. Look, Comrade is now working at Microsoft (booo!!!), Drew is developing software for a big bank, and Niran, well I don't know what happened to him, but last I heard, he was making games for the PC. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Look at my buddies outside of work, Fido Dido, Scotland, madcanadian. All very smart kids. (If you're reading this, don't flatter yourselves, I've got photographic proof that you're all idiots! *smirk*). Even people I've met at work, and now call friends: massivest, xtreme-pwr-play, yoyo, hydrabenzine, mute. Bright as a penny, smart as a button. Cream of the crop, and all that.

Which makes me wonder, why the heck are they allowing me to hang around them? Sheesh, I feel like such an outcast sometimes. Let's face some facts, if my brain was an orange, and you wanted to squeeze me for juice, it's not going to be enough for your Screwdriver. The most you'll get out of me is only enough to flavour Halls' cough drops. And I ain't talking about the whole freakin' roll, just one sad little candy tablet.

I've been attempting study on the weekends at the library. Either I'm reading the material in French, or I'm extremely dyslexic, because short of these two excuses, I'm totally lost.

Okay, I mean when I read a sentence, I understand every word, but when I flip a page and read the next line, it's as good as Greek to me. For some unfathomable reason, I've become the duh kid. I think I know what I'm reading, but when I go and try to apply my new found knowledge into a psuedo real world problem, I make the Three Stooges look like the Three Wise Men.

This is embarassing, and making me a little scared. If I can't even do these seemingly simple exercises, how am I suppose to learn at my new job? The last thing I want to do is disappoint anyone, least of all me. Maybe I'm setting goals for myself that's above my reach, like the little kid who's an inch too short of the cookie jar. But I want to excel darnit, and right now, my Dual OverHead Cam 16 valve twin-turbo fuel injected brain is running on crappy-ass 56 octane unleaded gas from Petro-Can.

They say that as we grow old, our ability to learn is deminished. If I get any more dumb, they're gonna have to put a sticker on my forehead: Warning, the Surgeon General has deemed this to be an unsafe area for learning. Keep all books and other flamables away from this area.

...."Welcome to McDoggies, would you like fries to go with that shake?" <--- phew, I still have ONE marketable skill.






posted by losir at 1:52 AM