Obviously intelligent, that is. At least, according to some.

And I wonder about that. I can only imagine that it must be some kind of exposed wire high voltage vibe I give off.

I mean, sure, the things I say are pretty intelligent, at least most of the time. But not so intelligent that I would blow people away with my words alone. Then again, for most of my life, saying really intelligent things has only resulted in further alienation.

It’s not anyone’s fault, really. I can say that now. For many years, I blamed myself, while also sort of blaming people for not getting me at the same time. It could be argued that my highly developed verbal skills have their origin in this desperate need to be understood. To get across what I was trying to get across.

But that only takes you so far. The hard truth is that no matter how good my verbal skills get, the gap between me and regular folk (or even between me and my fellow writing students) will always be very wide. I am a very strange breed of cat (fox), and the way I see things is always going to be starkly unique and hard for most people to relate to, at least in one on one situations.

That’s why I have been pondering setting myself up as a sort of guru lately. It would be a way of making my intelligence into a public asset. Go ahead and ask me anything, and I will do my best to give you the right answer. It would go a long way to making myself less threatening to people. Instead of my intelligence seeming strange and frightening to people, it would be something that could benefit them, or at least be benevolent in general.

Because I do think I scare people sometimes. And confuse them. This vibe I give out is strong medicine and the fact that I radiate so strongly on that frequency without being arrogant or aggressive about it just makes my case more baffling to people.

There are expectations for how powerful people are supposed to act. And I don’t conform to them at all. It’s like I am a massive predator of some kind. It doesn’t matter if the sabretooth tiger is completely domesticated and as harmless as any housecat. He’s still going to make a lot of people nervous, especially if like me, he is somewhat clumsy and capable of doing great harm accidentally because of all that size and power and strength.

Holy shit…. I’m Marmaduke.

Perhaps my eternal quest to relate as equals to people was doomed by its own naivete from the very beginning. Perhaps I would be better off simply accepting that, on some levels, I am “above” others, and no amount of effort on my part will convince people that I am not, in fact, a giant, but one of them.

Perhaps I should instead concentrate on being the best giant I can be.

It’s strange to think that it is possible that being less humble and more, for lack of a better word, arrogant might actually make it easier to relate to people. Looking back over my life, I think of all I have done in order to try to avoid “spooking” people so they will not be scared away or weirded out, and it all seems so pointless.

As I have said before. part of the problem is my desire to avoid responsibility. If I truly flex my mental muscles on a social level, I would end up in charge of things. It would be inevitable. Intelligence is a primary leadership quality, and it is only by dint of failing to show other leadership qualities like confidence and competence that I have avoided leadership thus far. If I was to express myself confidently and competently, I would end up winning dominance fights whether I knew I was in them or not, and the fundamental rules of social mammal programming says that he who wins the fight leads.

Whether he wants to or not, really. I imagine that winning the contest but refusing the crown would make people really, really angry. Especially those you have vanquished. They have had their status diminished and are expecting to have a new, strong leader to follow (and in that sense, return their status to them) as compensation, and if such compensation is denied, I imagine that the victor would face the kind of deep primal anger that can only come from someone violating rules that run so deep that we don’t even know they exist.

I think that has happened to me in my life. Being socially clueless, it would have seemed quite random and irrational. After all, if I don’t even know I was in the fight, how can I possibly understand the consequences of winning? Winning what? All I did was share my opinion just like everyone else was doing…. right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

At the very least, I have to grow up and start taking the potential effect of my apparently radiant intellect into account. I’m not a normal person. I am, in fact, a mutant freak. And there’s nothing wrong with that as long as I am not trying to pretend to be anything else.

Better to be a believable dragon than an Uncanny Valley person, I suppose.

I have spent a long time hiding from the truth (and the responsibility) of my advanced intellect. I knew I was super smart…. I have known that since I was three years old. But I never owned it. To me, all it meant was that I had no friends and was bored most of the time in school.

But that’s no way to live. Time for me to be a mensch and own up to what I have and try to figure out where the hell I go from there.

There must be some sort of stable state of equilibrium between self-denial and an ego the size of a planet (and the madness that stems from it).

I wish I was smart enough to figure out how to handle being so fucking smart.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.