Jarhead: High IQ isn't Always Good

I was starting to be able to tell I was smarter. I knew that I couldn't have concentrated on one subject that long before I did the pills thing.

There were people that complained about algebra being a big deal. It wasn't. It seemed like pretty obvious stuff most of the time, but I was careful to work through all the problems before I went on to the next chapter. I couldn't ask someone for help, so I had to just slog through and make sure I really, really understood it.

Without feedback from a teacher, I'd never know if I was really getting the material. So, I had to force myself to keep working problem after problem.

Granted, some of the problems were fun -- a lot of fun.

My mother would come in some days and see me behind my computer, but I didn't want her to know I was working on math, so I had some drawings of spacecraft and other kid-stuff under my keyboard and an old Kerbal Space 4 (or something like that) loaded so she didn't ask too many questions.

That summer, before my 5th grade year, was the happiest time I'd had since my dad died. I read, slept, did problems, read some more, flew through a history text, read this, read that... It was amazing. I learned a huge amount of stuff.

I even learned how to do a drywall patch when I opened my door too fast and the doorknob went right on through. The doorstop had gone long ago, so, yeah, Ooops.

Seeing that hole, though, got me thinking. I still had the tin of pills and the letter.

If anyone found that, they'd know things. They might accidentally take a pill thinking it was a mint. Or, they'd read the letter and KNOW.

I'd long-since memorized the letter. I folded it tightly and it just barely fit into the tin box, which I shoved into the hole in the wall and shoved it down in case I'd have to make this repair twice.

The hardware store guy told me how to drywall patch and I made it look just like new.

Later in August, a "friend" of mine (from Scouts) had a birthday party. I went, of course. I hadn't seen him all summer. I didn't have too many friends since moving there, and despite being teased a bunch, he'd seemed basically decent. The party was medium-sized, with both some girls and boys he knew from his church. My mom was Catholic, but at some point during the party this guy mentioned he was Unitarian, or "UU", which was some kind of liberal thing. They said you could believe what you wanted and still be in the church, as long as you were nice to people. I liked that.

They invited me to go to another party that next week, but even though I said yes, it turned out that my mom had her sister coming into town with my cousins (3 girls), so I missed out. The cousins were loud and messy and dressed all in black, a teenage thing I wasn't sure about wanting to be near.

The week after that, school started again. I had the normal math, science, English, literature, gym, lunch, and social studies classes. Happily, though, I was in a new building and the school offered orchestra. I liked that idea, and I told my mom I wanted to learn how to play violin, so that started violin lessons.

I picked it up pretty fast, of course, and I practiced a lot, usually in the basement where I put up some thick shag carpets on the walls and ceiling to absorb the sound. Mom's odd hours meant I had to keep really quiet, but mostly I just solved the problem by practicing when she wasn't there. My rug solution worked for those other times, she said, so I was in the clear.

My grandmother had left an old piano in the house and I wanted to learn that, too, but again, noise would be a problem. Instead, I used some of my lawn-mowing money to buy a full-length used electronic keyboard (online for seriously Cheap) that I could plug headphones into. There was a port on it to connect it to a computer, and I had my mom buy me software learn to play. I was tempted to cheat and play the way the songs the I wanted to, but when I started doing that it quickly started sounding like crap. I just had to change my ways and just conform to their curriculum.

The fact that my memory was better, helped a lot. I could remember something after about the second time through it, and I got better and better at sight reading. It was one of the first outright memory-enhanced things I could do, I remember being amazed that it was something different about myself.

Still, there was a lesson in the fact that while I could remember the notes, my fingers had to get used to moving the right way, at the right speed. Muscle memory was a big thing, and I had to have compassion and forgive myself for not being as fast as I wanted to be.

School got more and more boring, but that was fine since it had mostly been boring before. I always was reading a book in class, and made a point of keeping a problem sheet handy so I could always be doing something in my head instead of looking at or paying attention to the teacher.

That year went by pretty fast, and my online coursework kept going, too. I decided to memorize some things to test myself, so I memorized the multiplication tables to 30x30, periodic table (easy), an isotope table (harder), all the kinds of rocks and minerals, names for plants and animals, that kind of stuff.

To be frank, most of junior high was a blur. I was having a blast filling my head with what I figured would be good and useful stuff.

High School was odd. They wanted to put me in testing for advanced classes, but I didn't want to show I knew too much.

I had a decision to make.

Would I show that I was a really, really smart guy, or would I completely hide it?

It came down to what I wanted to do in the world. I decided global warming would be a thing I could work on, but if I had to pay for college, I'd never get there. The trick would be that I'd have to get good enough grades to get into a top-tier school and have them pay for it, but not so great as to make them yank me from high school entirely like some kind of circus freak.

I took "harder" classes -- the most complex they offered -- but it was all stuff I'd studied already. Most of my class time was spent doing the busy work they wanted, then thinking and jotting notes about wherever interested me the rest of the time.

By my junior year, I'd by-far finished any high school stuff and had finished most of the major courses for bachelor degrees in chemistry and physics (not counting lab work), computer science, mathematics, biology and biochemistry (again no lab work), statistics, geology, and astronomy.

My classics exposure was small, though, and everybody who talked about being smart talked about those. I didn't know why it was so important to read about what a bunch of people 1000 years ago thought about, it wasn't modern, but, hey, what the heck, might as well find out.

Classical humanities meant Virgil, Homer, St. Augustine, Aquinas, etc. Eventually I realized the reason people talked about their writing was it covered basic ideas you didn't need tech to discuss - ethics, religion, how to be happy, what does it mean to be a 'good' person.

I wasn't wrong, generally. Though, some of them could have used editors to tell them to make it shorter.

Basically, I liked the classics, but the philosophers were interminable. Granted, they'd have some fun bits thrown in the middle, off topic but funny.

Kant was full of that, and full of himself, for sure!

They all tended to drone on, what in electronics they call a low signal to noise ratio. Nietzsche was dense, which I liked, but he couldn't keep his mind on a single topic long enough to tie it up in a nice knot.

As anyone who's read it can testify (I believe): There's a special hell in which you're forced to listen to spoken-word jazz narrating Søren Kierkegaard, accompanied by a junior high oboe player. It would seriously be better in Kierkegaard's native Danish so you didn't have to understand it.

Kierkegaard could compete viably in a Vogon poetry contest. 'Ode To a Bit of Fluff I Found Between My Toes One Day', indeed.

== Chapter: Senior Year Oddities ==

As senior year was about to start, I turned 18 and decided to have a party. I had friends from orchestra and chorus, though I mostly kept to myself.

After all, who doesn't love an 18th birthday party!

I knew a bunch of people from band, too, because they were in my music theory class. This was a wise choice, we listened to music and analyzed it in a way it would have been hard to do independently.

Plus, Mr. P., my orchestra teacher, was super fun.

In most of my classes, and most of my life, I didn't talk much. Usually this was because my mind was on completely different things - I was preoccupied with, well, whatever I was reading at the moment. And, a lot of the time, that was physics.

No matter the time of day or thing I was doing, there was always something going through my head about how this or that situation would play out in different quantum-mechanics paradigms. Most of it was bizarre to think about.

I had to learn to control my tendency to laugh at my own jokes too much in public situations.

Right after school started, like I said, I wanted to have a party, so I invited some orch people and a couple of girls I knew from chorus. Mads (real name: Madison) was someone I considered a friend, but she was so outgoing everyone probably thought she was their friend, too. I invited her, and surprise, surprise -- she said sure.

My mom was happy to have something social happen, but warned me that everyone had to stay downstairs.

The party turned out okay, I talked to people and hung out. One of my friends broke out 'Settlers of Catan' and we played that, had cake, and mostly had a fun time.

Mads came up to me later, just as she was leaving, and said, "Hey, Kev. I ... want you to meet a friend of mine. She lives in her head all the time. She's homeschooled, though, so ... you don't know her."

I was confused, "Homeschooled? Is she super religious or something?"

Mads laughed, "Yeah, kinda. Her parents are. But, she's told me, she's just kind of waiting to 'graduate' so she can move out and go to college. She's super-cerebral. You'd like her."

"I don't know how to take that. You think I'm...?"

Mads laughed again, "Dooood. You space out so much. I see you thinking, then smiling, then you realize where you are and blink. It's funny. I love that about you. But, you're kinda weird that way. Not everybody's going to get you."

My mind stuck on 'love that about you' and didn't let go.

Mads' face made a sideways evaluating look at mine. "Don't get weird again at me. You have that open-eyed babyface thing going on now. No puppy dog eyes!". She laughed. "This is a party. Your party. I'll text her your number if you're okay with it. Her name is Cleo."

"Cleo?"

"Yep. Some Greek thing. I think she said it's short for Themeesta Cleo. I think. Something like that..."

"Themistoclea?" I pronounced it right - 'theem-isto-clay-a'.

"You know the name?"

"Uh... yeah. Heard of her... the ancient one, not your friend." I realized I'd shown off that I knew something; I usually was more circumspect than that. I tried to downplay it, "But, I haven't read any of her. She was Pythagoras's mom or something. I'm ... I don't know..." My voice trailed off. I was getting shy again. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. Usually Mads was pretty disarming, but I got flustered.

Mads didn't care. "Well anyway, whatever. She's really nice, and really into science geek stuff - like you. So, maybe you'll hit it off."

"Okay. She can call me anytime. Whenever."

We chatted some more and pretty soon the party was done.

I had hopes for Cleo, but I did know one thing: one of the people I had warm fuzzies about was Mads. Epic good person, and fun, even if she generally wasn't into the same things I was.

Still, I didn't dare hope too many things about Mads, I got the idea she very much had her own life and I was just in the outer orbit.

== ==

Cleo texted me the next day, September 17th. I remember ... being happy. A girl was paying attention to me, and one with an interesting name, at least. High school girls were generally pretty boring to me. Not that I talked to them much.

I knew, though, at some level, if I didn't do something about meeting and interacting, I'd be alone my whole life. I was trying to break out of my shell. That's why I liked Mads so much. She talked to me even though I wasn't sure how to talk back with her.

Cleo's text was simple, "Mads said to text you, so here I am."

"Oh! Hello! Yes. She mentioned you. I said it was okay to give you my number." I stuck to the facts.

"What did she say about me?"

"Just your name. Or, a version of your name."

"She said you knew who Themistoclea was without looking it up. Is she kidding?"

"I didn't know more than she was Pythagoras's teacher or mom or something, at the time."

"You were right. She said you said that. Impressive."

"Just saw it once & name stuck, is all." I tried to downplay it.

She texted, "Can I call you, voice call?"

"Sure." I wasn't sure, but I said yes anyway.

What followed was a tension-filled but exciting conversation in which I tried to not say the wrong things. Statistically, I'd read about job interviews and thus dating, that the less the guy says the better because they usually just drone on and bore the girl. So, I followed that and asked lots of questions, and agreed, and guessed how things made her feel.

Guessing feelings was another thing I'd read about dating strategies. It was complicated. I didn't have much insight into her, or really almost any girls.

She wanted to know what classes I was taking, so I talked about what I was enrolled in, high school wise, not what classes I'd done online, which were... somewhat more complex (!!).

Ending the conversation, we agreed to have coffee at a local place, after school was done that Wednesday. I suggested the location and it turned out her house wasn't that far from mine, about 8 blocks, which is pretty close in Boston.

Hanging up, I was looking forward to it, and immediately texted Mads that I'd talked with Cleo and she sounded interesting and fun, and said thanks. I didn't know what else to say, and I knew (based again on various novels I'd read) that girls tended to talk with each other a lot, and that whatever I said to Mads would get back quickly to Cleo. So, I wanted to say a compliment that I really felt. But, I had to keep it simple, 'cuz I'd totally mess it up if I went on.

My vocabulary was too big and I had to keep it really simple; talking with people meant constantly watching what I was saying and rephrasing it in my mind to be simpler. It was a lot of work to talk with people. I could listen just fine, but if I wanted to add something, I had to think about it a moment.

== ==

Talking with Cleo gave me some confidence, but also nervousness, so I had to do something with that energy.

I decided to email (from a secured dropbox account) a professor. I'd read his last couple of papers, and some papers of people he'd cited in his paper. I had some questions, ideas he'd brought up, and I wanted to ask them, but I didn't know if he'd react badly, or ignore me, or whatever.

He was a local -- an MIT prof named Andy Smithysmith. I didn't want to meet with him personally, really, but I did have some questions. In my email, I claimed to be a student from a 'nearby college' and had a couple of questions. He'd done some work on mathematical physics (Heineman Prize winner, natch), so I threw some simple questions at him to see if he'd respond.

He did.

I got back a short but very nice note citing a paper that I'd already read, and encouraging me to keep working.

I waited a day and sent a longer question about some of the things he'd published recently on brane topography in quantum field theory. It was an actual question in that I wanted to know if he'd proved something he just implied in his paper.

The answer I got back quickly showed he was confused. He said the first question implied I was a n00b but the second showed I really knew my stuff, and was this some colleague of his playing games? He didn't like games, he said, but if I really wanted to know, no, he had no proof, and that he was frustrated by it. There seemed, he said, no way to prove it despite it being logically reasonable. If I had any ideas, great, but he suspected that Levinson from Yeshiva in Tel Aviv might have something in that area soon.

Letting the issue stew in my brain overnight, I wrote back with a simple proof that only worked if I defined something slightly differently than he had. It resolved a question but posed another one, probably a net zero. I said so. I didn't want to seem like I was actually contributing anything when it just like I was opening more cans of worms.

I got back an email that just read, "WTF"

He wanted to meet, he said, if that was possible, just to chat. I said that was unlikely, for 'complex reasons'. I did say, though, that maybe we could voice chat over an encrypted app, voice only, and he seemed agreeable. We set up a time for Thursday, since I didn't want to do anything that would risk the coffee with Cleo.

Getting all this down made me really kind of happy, like I was suddenly free to do things. When that happened, and it did happen every once in a while, I had to do something with that energy, so I went down to the basement (I'd relocated my keyboard down there) and decided to compose something really different.

As part of My high school music theory class, I'd had to write some small piano etudes. These were tiny things that just combined two ideas.

I liked the process of inventing music. Mr. P, my teacher had suggested combining and existing melody with a new style since sometimes that was easy for people.

For those etudes, I had combined 'The Sound of Silence' by Paul Simon with the style of a Rachmaninoff piece, all fat-chorded and slammy-whammy.

That night, I decided to start a larger work. Mr. P had said if we composed something and it was good, he'd have the orchestra play it through one day, and we could conduct.

I liked that idea, as an idea, and I remembered playing pieces in previous years. Usually they were simple things, done obviously to satisfy a grade, like a march or something.

Some people just rearranged an existing piece to be funny, so the flutes played the bass lines and the tuba had the melody. I thought that'd be fun, but I wanted to try something different.

Around 4 in the morning, I realized I hadn't gone to sleep and I'd filled in sketches for a full 3-movement symphony. My laptop's music-writing software hooked into the keyboard and made it pretty fast, but there was a lot to fill in that made the project a lot of fun. I decided I was going to name the work after Cleo (she'd inspired me, but then so had Andy's problem).

Really, I couldn't tell her until it was more finished, but, yeah, why not.

Since I had to wake up at 5 anyway, I just went up in the dark house and made breakfast. I was tired, but happy. I realized I hadn't been that happy for quite a while.

The rest of my Tuesday wasn't so exciting, but I was tired that night from having pulled the all nighter, and went to sleep early.

== ==

The next day was Wednesday. Even though I showered every day before school, I came home after school really fast and showered again before my date.

We didn't really get a chance to shower after gym class, so I figured I needed it. Brushing teeth, shaving, all the things that had to be done, I paid attention to.

I even shaved between my eyebrows and carefully trimmed my nose hairs!

I got to the coffee shop about 10 minutes to 4, just in case, then sat down facing a wall so I didn't try to look at everyone's face as they came in. I knew myself well enough to do that much.