One brain, two brain, three brain, four.

So, I'm not in an uplifted mood today. More like a Debbie Downer day. I hope that if anyone is looking for a little dose of negativity to temper their unwarranted happiness, that they will visit my obscure blog. Obscure almost makes it sound cool. Like something rare that someone is looking for . . . but no one is looking for my little inane ramblings. I know that.

So here's the reality: we are not as smart as we think we are. Most of us. Really. I mean, there are some really gifted people out there (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE . . . though why you would be reading this puzzles me), but so many of us can be described by the very loathsome word "average". I'm average. There, I said it. Average person. Average intelligence (sometimes). There are a lot of us folk out there, but despite that, I feel like I keep getting surrounded by the "above average" folks. They kind of make you want to kick trash cans or take a bong rip. So what? You've got more dendrites in your brain? That's what I feel like saying. Like everything, so much of intelligence is luck. And so much of "intelligence" also counts for nothing. You can be smart, but your life can still be a wreck, and well, would you call that smart? You see where I'm going with this? It's fucking tricky.

Now, I know what you balanced, spiritually and emotionally evolved world view people are thinking: what's intelligence? That's actually a good question. I don't know. And I certainly don't think it's an ability to perform well on standardized tests, though, all things being fair, really, really bright people usually don't have a problem with those tests. Unfortunately for me, law schools know this (though the jury's still out on whether or not these bright people will also be good attorneys).

I just want a way out of the paradigm sometimes- the "what is valuable and what is not valuable" paradigm, and the "what is talent/intelligence and what is not" paradigm. To hell with it all! That paradigm has taken up root in my brain, and I'd like to extricate it. I imagine a surgical procedure, and a neurosurgeon delicately pulling something dark and slimey out of my brain tissue . . . and then poof! It would be gone. I would awake from surgery, bald and full of bliss . . .

But for now I'm here. And there's work to be done.