memories 2 Comments

Oh, Good.

My IQ = 140

I’m still smart.

I was just looking at Monster.com, saw a link for the Tickle IQ test, and decided to go ahead and take it for shits and giggles. It would appear that I have not gotten any dumber since the first grade, thankfully; my IQ is still 140.

When I was a kid, I got put in all the Talented and Gifted programs; I felt pretty smug and superior about it, looking back, although I wouldn’t have recognized it in myself at the time. In first and second grade, my elementary school had an advanced reading track; all I remember of that is our special reading group and extra trips to the school library. When we moved to Florida for third through fifth grade, their Gifted program was centered around math and science. I liked reading more than math and science, and wasn’t too keen on the program at first, but I grew to love science (and tolerate math). We moved again for sixth grade, and the new school system had a SIGNAL program (I forget what the acronym stood for) for gifted students. We read novels for class, in addition to the boring excerpts in our normal reading book; the class struck me as more additional work than advanced work at the time.

Once I got to middle school (yet another district), we were separated into “normal” and “advanced” classes. As I recall, there was no mixing and matching; if you were in the advanced group, you took all advanced classes. If you were in the normal group, you didn’t get to take just one advanced class. Of course, I would have taken all the advanced classes, anyway, so I may be remembering it wrong.

In high school (when I went back to the school district where I spent sixth grade), it took me a couple of years to realize that I was no longer *required* to take advanced classes. After I got my first D — Advanced Algebra II, Sophomore year — something finally clicked, and I realized that I didn’t *have* to take advanced classes if I didn’t want to.

It was all downhill from there.

Well, not really. I opted not to take a math my Junior year, and took the “normal” Analysis class my Senior year. (In my school, Analysis was the “I don’t want to take Trig yet” class, not the super-uber beyond-Calc class.) All the other people in my advanced-class circle took Trig their Junior and Calculus their Senior year. I bailed on the maths and stuck with advanced everything else. —Oh, and I don’t think I took Advanced Government my Senior year, either.

In my adult life, I’ve realized that my IQ doesn’t really mean shit. I don’t always have any more common sense than the next person. My written communication skills are pretty slick, IMHO, but that’s just because I’m a perfectionist motherfucker when it comes to grammar and spelling. My social skills have been a long time in developing, but I finally feel like I can socialize like everyone else now, instead of feeling like a socially-inept goober.

Being smart didn’t make me more motivated. Being smart didn’t make me procrastinate less. Being smart didn’t keep me from taking seven years to finish a four-year degree. Being smart didn’t get me an awesome job right out of college.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t regret the fact that I’m apparently more intelligent than the average bear. It’s just that my perspective changed quite a bit once I lost that chip on my shoulder. It’s not just smarts that can get you somewhere in life; it’s persistence and dedication, too.

*sigh*

I need to get on that.

humor 2 Comments

Archibald Barasol

Other than my own name and “t-shirt surgery,” the search string that brings the most visitors to my site is “Archibald Barasol,” thanks to this post from back in March of ’06. Most people spend a grand total of six minutes on my site after not finding the text of the Archibald Barasol joke (probably trying to search for it and see if I posted it somewhere else).

Today, I received an e-mail from a reader who kept reading, even after coming to a dead-end in finding the text of the Archibald Barasol joke. She was kind enough to e-mail me and say some kind words about my journal, which I greatly appreciate.

As a thank-you to her, and as an offering to all of you who find my site by searching for “Archibald Barasol,” I present the text of the joke, as I remember it, as told to me by CC Snyder:

So, there’s this kid. He’s about 17 years old and in the 4th grade, and his name is Archibald Barasol. One day, Archibald’s teacher was teaching the class how to spell out words in phonetic syllables.

“Archibald,” she says, “Can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

“Hell, no,” he says. “I need an example.”

The teacher says, “Fair enough,” and calls on Johnny Jones. “Johnny, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Johnny stands up and says, “Yes, ma’am! You’ve got your J-O-H-N, got your John. Got your N-Y, got your -ny, got your Johnny. Got your J-O-N-E-S, got your Jones. Got your John Jones, got your -ny Jones, got your John-ny Jones.”

“Very good,” the teacher says. “Now, Archibald, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

“Hell, no,” he repeats. “I need an example.”

The teacher says, “Fair enough,” and calls on Mary Smith. “Mary, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Mary stands up and says, “Yes, ma’am! You’ve got your M-A, got your May. Got your R-Y, got your -ry, got your Mary. Got your S-M-I-T-H, got your Smith. Got your May Smith, got your -ry Smith, got your Ma-ry Smith.”

“Very good,” the teacher says. “Now, Archibald, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Archibald stands up and says, “All right, you asked for it, fucker. You got your A-R-C-H, got your Arch. Got your I, got your Arch-eye. Got your B-A-L-D, got your bald, got your eye-bald, got your Arch-eye-bald. Got your B-A-R, got your bare, got your bald bare, got your eye-bald-bare, got your Arch-eye-bald-bare. You got your A-S, got your ass. Got your bare ass. Got your bald bare ass. Got your eye-bald-bare-ass, got your arch-eye-bald-bare-ass. You got your O-L, got your ole. Got your ass-ole. Got your bare-ass-ole. Got your bald, bare ass ‘ole. Got your eye-bald-bare-ass-ole, you got your Arch-eye-bald Bare-ass-ole.”

And the teacher says, “Very, very good.”

I have read variations on this joke; keep in mind this is but one version, and that I first heard and memorized it back in 1995. It’s also a challenge to type out, and is funniest if read aloud. Particularly with a southern accent.

aikido, crafty, gaming, jobhunt 3 Comments

A Quickie

I pulled my groin in aikido on Saturday, while trying to roll. I’m getting annoyed with myself for not “getting” it yet. At least my leg seems to be on the fast track, and feels like it should be healed by Wednesday’s class. It really put a damper on the weekend’s other extra-curriculars, though.

This week, Monday through Thursday afternoons, I’m attending an outplacement workshop paid for by Sky/Huntington. I was dubious about its actual value, but it actually seems like it’s going to be helpful. Among some of the highlights will be resume-crafting, networking and job-searching, and negotiating a job offer. I’m actually looking forward to some of this… plus, it gets me out of the office for half a day.

Rob has requested another manly candle, to be picked up this week. In looking at my records, I realize I haven’t made any candles since February (which was the last time Rob requested a manly candle). Candle-making is definitely a seasonal thing for me, being that I don’t like to have the oven on in the summer, and my timing mojo gets thrown off if I melt candle wax in the microwave instead. Maybe I’ll have to ramp up the seasonal candle-making a little earlier this year, and be sure to give everyone at work a going-away candle with my name and URL on it. 🙂

Update, 11:45pm: Rob’s candle came out well. I used a blow dryer to even out the surface — I should have tried that long ago.

In other news, bumping up the difficulty in Civilization IV really makes a difference: from me beating all the computer players in Chieftain mode to me getting my ass kicked and barely making it to the end of the game with one city intact in Warlord mode. If it weren’t almost midnight (and if I weren’t gainfully employed and due at work at 8am), I’d start another game.

aikido

Learning Experience

I’m finding it really fascinating, meeting my various sempai on the aikido mat and seeing how their minds work. I find that I gravitate toward certain people (and try to keep away from others), not so much because of their technique, but because of their attitude.

I find that I take ukemi better (i.e. I fall better) when a powerful and confident technique is performed on me. Hell, being thrown by Sensei is downright fun; I come up smiling almost every time. One of my sempai even commented that I’m falling much better now — I thanked him, but I really wanted to thank him for performing the technique with such finesse. It makes falling easier when my energy is honestly being shifted around, instead of just going through the motions.

Some of my sempai seem to handle me with kid gloves, and don’t put enough actual energy into the movement. It’s difficult for me to turn up the energy when faced with someone who won’t reciprocate. Just throw me. Just do the joint-lock. Don’t worry about my lack of hakama and rank; you won’t hurt me. I learn more from someone who’s doing the technique all-out, no holds barred. —Strike that. I learn more from nage doing the technique at a moderate pace, step-by-step but with a discernible flow, methodically, so I can follow.

My favorite is when I get with someone — there are a few people like this — who takes joy in aikido and puts it into the technique. Several of my lower-ranked sempai are like this. Their technique isn’t flawless, but the energy is there, and the joy is in their face, and they make me feel it, too. The higher-ranked sempai who have this spark in them are wonderful teachers; they won’t let me continue a technique wrong. They’ll just stop and let me start over, or stop and let me figure out on my own how to shift my energy properly. The lower ranks will simply start doing commentary on their own technique aloud as they throw me, so I can think the same commentary step-by-step as I throw them.

I’m not comfortable being the more experienced partner yet, though. I do have a couple of kohai — actually, I don’t know if I can really be said to have kohai, as I’m still unranked, and I’m not sure if the newer mukyu would count as my kohai. I think they would, though. At any rate, the some of the newer mukyu and even a couple of the rokyu (lowest rank) are more hesitant than I about certain techniques. I’m not comfortable trying to say anything to help; in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s inappropriate for someone of my ranklessness. Still, I could lead by example, but the temerity of my partner almost always makes me more timid.

This is all golden. I’m learning so much about myself and my interactions with other people in general.

Bottom line? I need to trust myself more, have more confidence in myself.

This is why I joined the dojo.

randomness

Another Weird Dream

I’ve mentioned this before, but I hate having effed-up dreams wherein Aaron and I have weird relationship issues. Even though I know we’re perfectly fine in our marriage, it always makes me wonder if my subconscious is seeing something I’m not.

Last night, dream-Aaron and I got married after having done a courthouse wedding a week or so before. (That was an odd dream sequence in many ways, but not particularly disturbing.) Then we went out and partied, but the bar was playing a song that Aaron associated with bad memories from high school, so we left and went elsewhere. Later on, he left me alone to go hang out with some guy friends and have a bachelor party of sorts. I wandered the streets alone, and found him some time afterward standing in a doorway with a friend or two, smoking a freshly-lit cigarette — which I immediately called him on.

Both before and after the bachelor party, I remember that we had some serious and deep dream-conversations about us. I don’t remember what they were about, specifically, but I awoke disturbed and uneasy.

This couldn’t all stem from the fact that I didn’t do the dishes last night like I told Aaron I would… could it?