On Being a Genius
Today I am a genius. Last night I was a dumb ass of biblical proportion. But today, I am a genius.
To those how know me, I am what you might call a techno-neophyte; that person of a certain age who didn’t have the benefit of being born with a joy stick in her hand or a computer in her grade school. When I was growing up, the word keyboard had yet to enter the mainstream vocabulary and was reserved for only those mysterious folk who worked with giant computing behemoths that took up entire, unnaturally frigid rooms and were capable of only one function. Be that as it may, progress took hold with a vengeance and turned us pathetic relics into frenzied angst-ridden fruitcakes trying to catch up.
I’ve given it my best with varying degrees of success. My biggest claim to techno-fame so far is this blog. It was surprisingly easy. But in life, there is balance so on the day after I launched this blog, I lost 70 pages of material that I had been working on for, like, ever. Just one tiny key stroke, one lapse of concentration and BAM I was plunged into a pit of despair so black, so consuming and profound that it threw me into a strange fugue state. Wikipedia defines a fugue state as “a state of mind characterized by abandonment of personal identity, along with the memories, personalities and other identifying characteristics of individuality.” Yikes, that silly blonde girl was in deep doo-doo.
The blonde girl was distraught, devastated, dumbfounded and just about every other D word one can think of. After screaming obscenities to the gods of technology until her tonsils were bleeding, she did what any self-respecting middle-aged female who had lost her personal identity would do; she cried like a 4 year old. When the crying stopped and she got her sight back, she willed herself to find the file that she had so idiotically replaced with a file that was 6 months old. “It has to be somewhere”, she told herself.
So she searched. And she re-searched. And she searched the same places she searched 12 other times a 13th time. Nothing. She called her nephew (an IT guy) and left a 911-esque message about what she had done. When he didn’t return the call, she assumed it was because her loss of identify threw him and he thought she might be an IT stalker. Then, she stumbled upon a seek-and-find mechanism that allowed her to search in some new and different way. By sheer luck she managed to retrieve the precious file. Was it divine intervention? I think not as she swears waaaay to much and has been married more than the religiously allotted “one time”. No, there was no divinity to this miracle, young ‘uns. It was pure genius; bestowed upon her for one brief and shining moment. And she accepted it and her fugue state lifted and her identity was restored.
So today, I bask in the glory of my genius-ness. I shall wave my flag of intellectual superiority until the day I fuck up something that cannot be fixed.