A threadworm of hope

OK, we're all back to normal again. Although the 14th October ufo had 'cack' written through it like a stick of rock, all the other disappointments in my recent life all had a chance of actually happening, some almost changing my life as much as a real ufo sighting would have.

There has been: New girlfriend of one date replacing me for ex. Ex girlfriend still interested decades later drops me like a handful of worms. The Sun interview me for an article they didn't use (possibly only chance to reach big time). Two people refuse to appear in latest TV programme delayed 3 years already. No record of my IQ test now Mensa accept outside ones.

There are more, and a few that actually worked but not much for a while, but with such a list wouldn't anyone get an attitude?

So life is ordinary. Very ordinary. My purpose in life is taking bus numbers for a photo pool, helping a few people at work and in my family and blogging. In case it goes over a few heads much of these blogs is intended as comedy although based on real life. Subtle but there if you look. Seeing the funny side of as much as possible is a recognised form of help, and that's why very little is above being the topic of humour, including the holiest Meat Loaf himself. I am considering writing a song on the lines of 'I'm sitting on it right now', 'What's hanging out my pyjamas?' (ans, my mother...), 'I may be a wanker but at least I don't support Arsenal', 'But at least I'm not Hitler', 'I wouldn't do that for cash either', and 'It's seven inches long' (the riddle is to listen to the lyrics to find what is). A deep vein of nonsense in a single line of music.

Seeing a programme on TV last week also reminded me however nostalgic I am for some of the people I met there, I shouldn't be too nostalgic about actually being at school. Much of it was boring and some was hell, and was far better off after leaving it, even the one I liked in the long run. The real key to it was the social part, where London/Britain's top brains sent their brainiest kids to the same places so instead of mixing with the usual mix of rough and dull kids they met ones just like themselves, who are normally very few and far between, as at my annual music holiday (1968-89). Nowadays these people are either memories, annual visits or dead. I wanted to join Mensa to keep meeting them, and the status was a bonus. I know a law degree is thousands of times harder than a Mensa test (I've done both) and is many exams rather than just one. In fact I'd like a psychologist to assess the whole degree spread and see if it could actually qualify you for the IQ as well if passed at a certain level. All the same skills are involved as unlike the arts you have to apply the knowledge besides learn it. And there's maths involved at times which was something I found virtually impossible on its own.

I now find such people online but spread evenly round the world. I even meet the odd one when they visit London but very rarely. It's a bit like being a freemason, we can usually spot each other by a few little signals and feel like family. It's not pride or elitism, simply being judged by performance. You start by thinking what you understood was common knowledge and then found at 11 or so teachers and many adults didn't follow what was bloody obvious to you. Then you realise you are going to struggle to be understood for the rest of your life, and would end up a leader rather than a member of the pack as it was like seeing a different horizon to everyone else. To keep it warm we play quizzes or take on other challenges from time to time, often to make sure we haven't lost it. Playing professional quizzers for 4 months and coming 8th from many thousands was my last effort, as every so often some wiseacre doubts your credentials, as if intelligence was a hoax you could pretend to have to big yourself up when you were really like everyone else. I suppose it can only be seen by those who can recognise it. It has no connection to emotional maturity, in fact maybe an inverse one, as we are often childlike and innocent, and have the social skills of a 9 year old. We find life interesting enough without having to learn boring and pointless routines just to fit in with the masses. So we do often fit the streotype as a stereotype is made by collecting common characteristics and fitting them together where anyone seeing it would recognise it, even if an exaggeration. And if you're on the cusp of social acceptibility, being an only child does the last push into social exclusion, amplifying every element of isolation and self enquiry. I don't look for praise just like tall people don't need respect for having abnormally long legs. I just don't want stick for it and have to pretend I'm just like your average Joe when I'm clearly not.

So, with so much time and space the blog fills a huge gap, as did a couple of days reading the often insightful comments on the 14th October blogs, where the full spectrum of human strengths and weaknesses were displayed. Like Big Brother, but with the spiritual side. It's over now though and not a thing has changed. Will it ever?