A couple months ago I overheard my oldest son talking to a friend on the xBox about his IQ. He told his friend that he had taken an IQ test online & he proceeded to spout out his result. Then he informed his friend (& his eavesdropping mother) that this IQ number indicated that he was 'Above Average'.
News to me.
I thought, 'Above Average' - is that all? Like any mother, I assume my children belong in the 'Simply Amazing' category.
I don't think my children have ever taken an IQ test at school. I seem to remember my mother telling me that, yes, my sister & I had taken IQ tests in school, but they (our parents) had decided not to reveal the results to us, so this potent knowledge would not skew the way we thought about ourselves. It seemed to be a thing to keep secret, like your finances. My parents never did tell me.
Now here was my son telling EVERYBODY within earshot about his score! How did he even know this score was 'right'? There must be hundreds of IQ tests out there on the web to choose from! As I was sitting in front of my computer at the time, I quickly googled 'Online IQ Test' & was rewarded with a mere 27.3 million results (in just .2 seconds, by the way).
~~~~really, Google, now you are just showing off! Why bother? Does anyone actually go beyond, say, the 20th listing?~~~~
Being a lazy sort of person, I went with the 10th one on the list. (I liked that website's name best - it started with 'FREE'.) The website welcomed me in & wanted me to TEST NOW! I looked around slyly to make sure that my children weren't watching - it seemed so forbidden an activity. OK, I thought, & then I clicked. After telling me I had to indicate my age, so the test results could be 'age-adjusted', the test began.
The questions were all the same format. A box would be shown to me, divided into six sections, five of which had some sort of pattern, the sixth section being empty. Underneath the picture of the box there were up to eight possible choices of patterns. I had to pick the pattern that would complete the six-sectioned box correctly.
I could see that there would be 60 questions. At first they were beyond simple. As I progressed, they became more difficult. When I reached about 32 or so, my son crossed to the kitchen for a snack. "Oh," he said, after stopping to look over my shoulder, "You are taking the IQ Test?"
~~~~See what I mean? OBVIOUSLY 'Simply Amazing'! Can there be any doubt?~~~~
"Yes," I said defensively, "DON'T help me!"
"I won't!" He watched me answer one & then went on his way.
I continued. I reached about 53 or so when they became really tricky. I slogged my way thru & then clicked SEE MY RESULT.
There was my number. It was higher than the number I had heard my son tell his friend. I was not ABOVE AVERAGE. In fact, I was not even SIMPLY AMAZING. No. I looked at the category assigned to me. It did not seem to make sense, but sure enough, when I blinked & looked again, there was my score - 2 points into the GENIUS category.
Well then!
Genius or no, the first thing I did with this new found knowledge was rub my son's face in it:
"HA!," I exclaimed, "I toasted YOU, big time!"
"No!", my son jumped off the couch to see.
"Read it & weep!" I hooted.
My son was horribly affected. I could tell by the way he slunk off to the xBox & promptly forgot all about it. I sat there, basking in my greatness. A genius! Who knew?
How would this information affect my life, I wondered? Does a floor mopped by a GENIUS sparkle brighter than a floor mopped by the normal woman I was just yesterday? Would my children be better served by having a chauffeur who could make sense out of a bunch of patterns? Should I perhaps apply for a job in the textile industry - making rugs of intricate patterns that ONLY I could distinguish?
The possibilities are limitless, I can tell!
Of course, they always were...
:)
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
The Loss of the Exotic
In the elevator of the Hotel the man asks us, "Where are you from?"
The boys look to me & wait. Wait to see which story I will tell this time.
"We are from Georgia." I reply, even tho we have not been from Georgia for about 5 years.
"Oh. How's the weather over there?"
"About the same as here," I say, "A little colder, maybe."
The man tells us he is from Connecticut. We joke about how he still has to wear a jacket here in Louisiana. "We didn't expect that!" he laughs.
Well, you all know we are from Jamaica. Why do I lie?
The boys used to be confused about my stories. "Why," demanded my oldest, when we first left the US & he was around 12 years old, "do you lie to people about where we are from?"
"Well," I said thoughtfully, "I am not really lying. It's just that sometimes the truth is too complicated. If you say you are from someplace expected, & plausible, like, say, Georgia, well, then that's the end of that. People say 'Oh' & go on their way. But if you say 'Grand Cayman' or 'Jamaica' it's like you have to tell some long story."
"I thought you liked to tell long stories."
"I do! But sometimes I just don't want to get into it. Sometimes it's just easier to be what people expect you to be. Sometimes you are only meeting people briefly & they don't really want to know your life story - they are just making conversation - being polite."
"Oh, OK."
"It's like when people say 'How are you?'. It's not like they want your whole medical history. It's just something you say. To have something to say."
"Hmmm. Well, how are we supposed to know which time to say which thing?"
"Think of it like this - if you are only seeing someone for a very short time - they get the short story. If you are going to see that person a lot, then they can have the long story."
It was like that when I worked on the cruise ship back in the '90's. After 8 months at sea on my first ship I came back to my home town on my 6 week leave. People I would run into would eventually say, "So, what are you doing now?" & I would tell them I worked on a ship & they'd be, like, "WOW! You work on a SHIP! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!" & they would have a million questions. & they would look at me with a yearning for a life they would never have. Or they would be jealous - & act like it was no big deal - but I could tell by the way they studiously asked me nothing that they felt some kind of reluctance to share with me their lives. Like their lives would be too boring to impress me. Like I would judge them for just being a normal person working a regular job, getting married, having a family.
They did not know that I was jealous of them.
For getting married.
For having a family.
After awhile, tho, it got tiresome - having to tell the story of my EXCITING life again & again. It got so people would say, 'What do you do?' & I would kind of look down, mumbling behind my hand, 'I work on a ship.' Hoping that would be the end of that. It was just too long a story to go into every time someone asked.
But I liked it, of course. Because I loved the attention. Because I loved feeling like I was doing SOMETHING right in my life; something that inspired admiration or envy in others. Especially since I couldn't seem to get anything else right.
Like getting married.
Like having a family.
When I did lure my unsuspecting Frenchman into matrimony, we quit our jobs on the ship. I got a job at a temp agency & went to work as a cashier for an Oldsmobile dealership. & people would say, "What do you do?" & I would say, "I am a cashier at an Oldsmobile dealership." & they would say "Oh." & that was that. No one ever said, "WOW! You work at a CAR DEALERSHIP! As a CASHIER! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!" & they would NOT have a million questions. & they would look at me with pity - like my life was too boring to impress them. Like they were judging me for just being a normal person working a regular job, getting married, having a family. Doing nothing to inspire or interest them.
They did not know how long I had wanted to do just that.
To get married.
To have a family.
But still. I was a little sad to lose that attention. To step out from under the spotlight & take up my new role as just one of the cast. An extra maybe. The woman you see in the background behind the star of the movie, pushing a stroller. Hugging a baby.
The last 5 years have returned us to the limelight. We have heard countless renditions of "WOW! You live in the CARIBBEAN! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!"
& until recently, the question "Where are you from?" has been an opportunity for invention. For the people who come from snowy places, I am from Colorado. For the Californians, I am from the Bay Area. For people in the western US, I am from Las Vegas. For southerners, I am from Georgia. For people with a lot of time on their hands, I am from the Caribbean.
Now that time is ending. With our move back to the States comes a return to normalcy. A time to exchange "What an exciting life you have!" for "Oh." A loss of the exotic. Soon we will tell people, "We are from Louisiana." & that will be the end of that. No more fumbling for the most convenient story.
People might not know that I have been ready for this -
- this normal life.
But I will miss the other life, I admit, that EXCITING life.
I will miss living a life in the spotlight.
Instead, I will be an extra.
Just hugging my boys
in the background
of other peoples lives.
The boys look to me & wait. Wait to see which story I will tell this time.
"We are from Georgia." I reply, even tho we have not been from Georgia for about 5 years.
"Oh. How's the weather over there?"
"About the same as here," I say, "A little colder, maybe."
The man tells us he is from Connecticut. We joke about how he still has to wear a jacket here in Louisiana. "We didn't expect that!" he laughs.
Well, you all know we are from Jamaica. Why do I lie?
The boys used to be confused about my stories. "Why," demanded my oldest, when we first left the US & he was around 12 years old, "do you lie to people about where we are from?"
"Well," I said thoughtfully, "I am not really lying. It's just that sometimes the truth is too complicated. If you say you are from someplace expected, & plausible, like, say, Georgia, well, then that's the end of that. People say 'Oh' & go on their way. But if you say 'Grand Cayman' or 'Jamaica' it's like you have to tell some long story."
"I thought you liked to tell long stories."
"I do! But sometimes I just don't want to get into it. Sometimes it's just easier to be what people expect you to be. Sometimes you are only meeting people briefly & they don't really want to know your life story - they are just making conversation - being polite."
"Oh, OK."
"It's like when people say 'How are you?'. It's not like they want your whole medical history. It's just something you say. To have something to say."
"Hmmm. Well, how are we supposed to know which time to say which thing?"
"Think of it like this - if you are only seeing someone for a very short time - they get the short story. If you are going to see that person a lot, then they can have the long story."
It was like that when I worked on the cruise ship back in the '90's. After 8 months at sea on my first ship I came back to my home town on my 6 week leave. People I would run into would eventually say, "So, what are you doing now?" & I would tell them I worked on a ship & they'd be, like, "WOW! You work on a SHIP! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!" & they would have a million questions. & they would look at me with a yearning for a life they would never have. Or they would be jealous - & act like it was no big deal - but I could tell by the way they studiously asked me nothing that they felt some kind of reluctance to share with me their lives. Like their lives would be too boring to impress me. Like I would judge them for just being a normal person working a regular job, getting married, having a family.
They did not know that I was jealous of them.
For getting married.
For having a family.
After awhile, tho, it got tiresome - having to tell the story of my EXCITING life again & again. It got so people would say, 'What do you do?' & I would kind of look down, mumbling behind my hand, 'I work on a ship.' Hoping that would be the end of that. It was just too long a story to go into every time someone asked.
But I liked it, of course. Because I loved the attention. Because I loved feeling like I was doing SOMETHING right in my life; something that inspired admiration or envy in others. Especially since I couldn't seem to get anything else right.
Like getting married.
Like having a family.
When I did lure my unsuspecting Frenchman into matrimony, we quit our jobs on the ship. I got a job at a temp agency & went to work as a cashier for an Oldsmobile dealership. & people would say, "What do you do?" & I would say, "I am a cashier at an Oldsmobile dealership." & they would say "Oh." & that was that. No one ever said, "WOW! You work at a CAR DEALERSHIP! As a CASHIER! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!" & they would NOT have a million questions. & they would look at me with pity - like my life was too boring to impress them. Like they were judging me for just being a normal person working a regular job, getting married, having a family. Doing nothing to inspire or interest them.
They did not know how long I had wanted to do just that.
To get married.
To have a family.
But still. I was a little sad to lose that attention. To step out from under the spotlight & take up my new role as just one of the cast. An extra maybe. The woman you see in the background behind the star of the movie, pushing a stroller. Hugging a baby.
The last 5 years have returned us to the limelight. We have heard countless renditions of "WOW! You live in the CARIBBEAN! How EXCITING! You must tell me ALL about it!"
& until recently, the question "Where are you from?" has been an opportunity for invention. For the people who come from snowy places, I am from Colorado. For the Californians, I am from the Bay Area. For people in the western US, I am from Las Vegas. For southerners, I am from Georgia. For people with a lot of time on their hands, I am from the Caribbean.
Now that time is ending. With our move back to the States comes a return to normalcy. A time to exchange "What an exciting life you have!" for "Oh." A loss of the exotic. Soon we will tell people, "We are from Louisiana." & that will be the end of that. No more fumbling for the most convenient story.
People might not know that I have been ready for this -
- this normal life.
But I will miss the other life, I admit, that EXCITING life.
I will miss living a life in the spotlight.
Instead, I will be an extra.
Just hugging my boys
in the background
of other peoples lives.
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