So today in TV Spec class, we watched an episode of Big Bang Theory.

And it wasn’t that bad. Some parts were genuinely funny, even. There was this B plot about Howard’s first few days of astronaut training that was hilarious.

But mostly what made it tolerable was that the plot did not revolve around the usual suspects dealing with Sheldon’s irrational dickishness. That is most of what I find unpleasant about the show. Usually when I try to watch the show, I sit there wishing Leonard would stand up to Sheldon, preferably in a manner which is both sudden and violent.

Anyhow, after the episode, we broke into groups, with each group having to come up with a broad-strokes pitch for an episode of the show.

And I had what I thought would make an excellent Sheldon plotline. I thought, wouldn’t it be funny if, while visiting someone in the hospital, the fussy and germ-phobic Sheldon got stuck in an elevator with a man who very quickly becomes very sick. A man who rapidly becomes so sick that he can’t even tell Sheldon what is wrong with him. This, of course, drives Sheldon nuts because he doesn’t know if the man is sick with something he can catch or not.

For most of the episode, Sheldon stays as far from the sick man as he can get in the confines of the elevator. But near the end of the episode, it becomes crystal clear to Sheldon that this man is going to die unless someone does something, and Sheldon is the only one present, so he has to do it himself. He does whatever gross thing that has to be done, and saves the man’s life, is hailed as a hero once the elevator is working again, and had grown a little as a person.

In the final scene, Sheldon would be just finishing telling Leonard about what happened, and Leonard would say, “That’s great, Sheldon! I’m really proud of you!”.

And Sheldon would reply, “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take a thousand showers. ”

Pretty good stuff, right? and yet, when I pitched that idea to the group, first there was those deadly moments of silence when people are staring at me completely dumbfounded by what I just said for reasons I do not at all understand, before rejecting the idea outright, saying “But Sheldon wouldn’t do that!”.

You know, completely ignoring the fact that the whole idea is that it creates a situation in which Sheldon actually has to grow up a little and get over himself. Sheldon might be a dick a lot of the time, but even he would not be able to live with himself if he let someone die right in front of him. I picture him getting instructions from a doctor over the elevator phone, and the doctor getting exasperated with how difficult Sheldon is, but plowing on because it’s the only way to save his patient.

So what am I doing wrong? Why is it I just can’t come across to people? Why do I keep ending up getting stared at like cows staring at a passing train by people who have no idea what the fuck I’m on about? Am I lacking a critical component of theory of mind?

Because the things I say make perfect sense to me. So it must be something I don’t get about how other people process information. To me, my thoughts and ideas are not that different from the things other people say. But that is obviously not the case given my starkly different results.

The obvious answer to why this keeps happening is intelligence. I am way smarter than most people, and so me relating to them is like trying to teach algebra to a cranky toddler. And while I absolutely loathe this idea, I can’t discount it out of hand. I don’t want to to be true because, for one thing, it would make me feel a hell of a lot lonelier than I do now, because it would be the final proof that I simply can’t relate to most people and I will never socially integrate, ever, because of it.

This would mean that all my strange attempts to get along were doomed from the start, which is a pretty fucking depressing thought.

But I recognize my own role in this. In a sense, I create these adverse conditions by refusing to hide my intelligence, “dumb down”, or pretend I am dumber than I am. There’s a certain nobility to that, but the cost may well be far too high. It is, deep down, a fairly childish attitude.

So is another obstacle, which is my constant need to show off how smart I am. Those two are intimately linked, obviously. I can’t pretend to be dumber than I am precisely because of this overwhelming desire to show off how smart I am and get approval that way.

And it’s not just a desire to show off – it’s also a very need to express my intelligence. I need to use this mighty mental muscle of mine, and I also have the deep need to communicate (coupled with crippling shyness) that makes someone a writer. So I use my intelligence to communicate.

Except it doesn’t work. But I keep trying anyhow.

So I am seriously re-thinking the entire question of my role in life. It might well be that the truth is that I can’t relate to most people as equals, despite that being what I want the most. I might have to take roles of authority simply to bridge the gap between me and others. It wouldn’t let me relate to them as equals, of course… but it would at least let me relate to them.

It’s either that, or I am going to have to except that I have to choose between being who I am to the hilt and actually learning to get along with people by being a tad more flexible.

I don’t like the idea of compromising my integrity like that…. but what use is integrity if you’re all alone in life?

There has to be an acceptable middle ground.

I keep saying that, don’t I?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.