Everyone is a Genius

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

--- Attributed to Albert Einstein

Talent is a funny concept. We say someone is talented if they can do something well, but the fact is, everyone has some kind of talent. The iconic 80s movie, “The Breakfast Club” about a group of high schoolers from different social groups gathered together for Saturday morning detention, has a scene where they are all discussing particular talents they have, besides the typical labels of “brain” “athlete” and “popular.” It’s a key scene that is meant to show that everyone can do something unexpected or out of line with how they are perceived.

 

The problem, in the movie and life, is that there are general standards and benchmarks for education, jobs, and just about everything else and many times they aren’t necessarily on point. There is always some rubric, some set of criteria that has to be met to assess proficiency. While it’s true that all of us have specific skills, there can be a disconnect on what we are good at and that on which we are judged.

Let’s start with education. Naturally, we have to educate our children in several areas of study. While it used to be the “Three Rs” we have, thankfully, moved away from such a narrow focus. Not mention that two of the three don’t even begin with an R, so it’s a good thing we’ve updated the standards. I may not be a genius, but I can read and write. Arithmetic is another matter. 

Just recently I had to buy a disposable party tablecloth to cover a ping pong table that was going to hold snacks and hot dishes. A ping pong table is 9 feet by 5 feet. Table cloths come in sizes measured in inches. There I stood, in the dollar store, because nothing but the best will do for me, trying to figure out how many inches were in 9 feet. My times' tables were never a strong suit. There’s some trick you can do when you get to the nines table, it involves your fingers and adding them up to get an answer, but judging by the looks other customers were giving me, I had either just flipped off the cashier or thrown up a gang signal.

It’s almost as if my brain was whizzing along and just slammed right up against the front of my head, coming to a dead stop, flummoxed completely by simple math. On the same day though, I had come up with a written proposal on how to showcase a retail analytics software package and a plan to incorporate assisted selling demos in stores, to a cosmetic company looking to change up their brand image. So, while in my math class I might be the fish that can’t climb a tree, in other areas I’m putting words together that can maybe, in a small way, impact a financial bottom line.

I am not special in this way. We all have a mixture of talent and shortcomings. I went to college with someone who is now likely one of the top five people, nationally as well as internationally, in a very complex field. However, when studying poetry during my junior year? Not so much. I spent more than a few hours explaining Keats, Yeats and Blake, the symbolism used in their work, the meter of the words, the allegory and other elements and how their life experiences and the current events of their time were reflected in the imagery of the poems. At one point, he looked at me and said, “Ya, you’re just making that up. It’s a poem about some flowers he liked, that’s it.” He was, of course, horribly wrong, but it’s OK, he had other talents, as we all do.

While there have to be basic standards in education, and everyone, even if they just barely make it over the finish line with a passing grade, has to take math, we should be paying more attention to individual gifts and talents. What can you do that maybe someone else cannot? I’m in awe of people who understand the mechanics of anything. I had to seek tech support from the fine people at Green’s Hardware when I didn’t know how to reload my heavy-duty stapler. Changing a tire? Nope, it’s been explained and demonstrated to me several times, still can’t do it, nor can I jumpstart a car. However, if you need someone who can make a bed you can bounce a quarter off, complete with hospital corners, I’m your girl. Waitressing taught me how to get five plates of food and a tray of drinks out of a kitchen and to the correct table, and even to the correct diner, but I can’t cook anything more complicated than burgers, mac and cheese, and salad. We can all be a genius, even if it’s just in one small area. If there’s something you do well, do it! If you know someone who struggles with a certain task, help them out. Maybe less of us will feel stupid, and that’s always a win.

Galumphing About

ga·lumph

/ɡəˈləmf/

verb: INFORMAL

To move in a clumsy, ponderous, or noisy manner.

"She galumphed along beside him."

---Oxford English Dictionary

 The other day someone used this word to describe me (and they are not wrong) and while I thought it was a made-up word, Oxford says it’s real. It’s hard to argue with the big book of the mother tongue, so galumph it is. Seriously, my family doesn’t call me Grace because I look like that other famous Kelly girl, who was in the movies. They call me that because, more often than not, I galumph about, bashing into walls and dropping things. It’s been that way my whole life, and while it’s occasionally mortifying, it’s my normal.

When actress Jennifer Lawrence tripped up the stairs on the way to getting her Oscar in 2013, everyone thought she was delightful. It was a well-executed move; honestly, there aren’t a lot of people who can rock an evening gown, stilettos, and a face-plant, but she managed it. Twice, actually. When she arrived at the 2014 Oscars, she biffed it on the red carpet. America’s sweetheart, take two. Somehow it never works that way for me. My random gravity checks seem to happen most often in my kitchen, reaching for a can of frosting…I mean, an apple, and winding up Lulu’s over teakettle onto the floor. I did complete a glamour fall once, wearing a prom dress, and it was epic, but that was before E! and TMZ were around. Also, no red carpet, just a pesky sidewalk curb. It was also pre-social media, thankfully.

 

It’s not just my bones that get bumped around; there’s a real cost to my housewares budget. While paper plates and plastic reduce some risk, you know the real reason we can’t have nice things? Sure, there’s a snorty, hyperactive pug at my house, but she’s innocent. It’s me; it’s all me. Waterford crystal is a favorite of mine, but the few pieces I have are located up on high shelves, and not handled by me. It’s really a bit sad; it’s Irish, beautifully made, and when the sun hits the facets cut into the triangle of my New Year’s Eve Times Square crystal ball ornament, it’s really gorgeous and yet, untouchable.

Still, it’s no use crying over spilled milk, right? A good friend recently nailed it when she said, “You’re a glass half full kind of girl, until you break it, that is.” Spot on, Rickey. It’s become about safety more than grace at this point. When you galumph, rather than glide, there’s often a trail of destruction that follows. Ceramics, glass, sharp objects, and precious knick-knacks are best kept out of my reach. Also, open flames. You know how instead of cursing the darkness, we are told to light a single candle? 

That’s for everyone but me. You can all glow in the flickering light of beeswax; I’ll be the one with the flashlight, likely cursing because the batteries are gone from when I dropped it and broke the cover. You start one small kitchen fire and it’s all, “Can someone check the smoke detectors? Brenda’s making dinner.” In my defense, how could I be expected to know that a glass cooktop stays hot for nearly twenty minutes after you shut it off, so while I didn’t burn the cookies in the oven, they were pretty crispy after sitting on top of the stove…on parchment paper. Pro tip: parchment paper is flammable outside of an oven. Somehow that was never covered in my high school physics and chemistry classes, or Home Ec for that matter.

Actual photo of untouchable Waterford, right next to where I started a fire

So far, there haven’t been any major injuries, if you don’t count a concussion from a run in with a mop and a tile floor, which, truthfully, could happen to anyone. The upside is I am now exempt from mop duty, which is a win if you ask me. As time goes by however, safety has to be a priority. Perhaps wearing my bike helmet in the shower might be a good idea? I’m a big fan of firefighters, but it’s probably wise to just buy a cheeky calendar instead of having them show up at my door because “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” That’s just not a good look for me. In the meantime, flat shoes (but still red) are probably best, along with staying away from stairs, breakables, slippery surfaces, and heavy objects that are easily dropped. Here’s to staying upright:::lifts paper cup in a toast::::

Excess and Moderation

“Never go to excess, but let moderation be your guide.”

---Cicero

Well, I did just get back from Italy, so quoting a famous Roman orator and statesman is appropriate, right? Moderation? You could say that’s a goal for me, rather than a reality. All things in moderation? ALL OF IT? No, not so much. Somewhere someone has to have said moderation should be taken in moderation. Oh wait, someone did. Ben Franklin. Smart guy. While many expressions are trite and overused, if you really wade into the kind of boring tea bag quotes that are found on internet memes, you can find one that says anything you like. Moderation? That could be countered with, “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing” and other gems like, “Everything in moderation, especially this inspirational BS.”

Moderation is a good concept in most areas. You shouldn’t drink too much. Hell, some of you shouldn’t drink at all if the police log is any indication. There is no safe amount of drunk driving or heroin use, this is obvious. Then again, can there ever be too much time spent near a beach, listening to the waves, with a nice fruity beverage? Ok, perhaps those in the path of the recent hurricane would say yes, but that’s an extreme example. While we could do a deep, philosophical dive on how much of whatever is too much, that’s not the point. The point is: when are we going too far on something, and when do we need to damn the torpedoes and go full speed ahead?

I have no idea.

On the cruise my family and I just took, moderation was never discussed. One look at the buffet every night would prove that. Also included in our package were unlimited beverages. Now I need to find an unlimited salad bar, that only has lettuce and ice water, and an unlimited personal trainer who will scream at me to get my fat butt back to the gym. The bank balance is at the other end of the spectrum. For every jump on the scale, it seems there was an equal and opposite dip in the checking account. Funny how that works. Still, there are no regrets. Math was never my strong suit, but even I know that you have to take in more than goes out, but if you do that at a buffet, well, it could be trouble. It kind of knocks the moderation concept out of the water. 

Sometimes you just cannot “moderately” work; you have to work like the Energizer bunny, because there’s a deadline (as I write this 90 minutes before the print deadline) or a project has gone off the rails. Then it’s catch up time and you’re manically trying to juggle an overflowing inbox, house and a family, and still find time to breathe and chill out. Moderation is off the table at that point. Also, if there is a custom crepe station and a bacon table at a buffet, there will be no attempts at moderation. 

#SorryNotSorry

Truthfully, if you look up the definition of the adjective moderate it means “average in amount, intensity, quality, or degree.” Well, no one ever sits down when they are reviewing their life goals or planning a career and says, “Average, that’s what I want. Nothing intense for me, no way, just middle of the road, that’ll do.” Again, extreme examples aside, moderation just isn’t all that sometimes. I was far from moderate when someone, who should have known better, said to me, “Don’t you think that was a little overboard?” after I ripped off someone’s head and spit down their neck for coming after one of my children. No, it was not “too much.” Quite honestly, looking back, it wasn’t nearly enough. And so it goes.

I love a good ocean metaphor, and I suppose it’s like the tide. Some days the water is calm, like glass, barely kissing the coast in little bubbly bits of surf, and other days it’s roaring up over the rocks and pounding the seawall. Would it really be even worth being on a beach if it wasn’t like that? Should we all be on an even keel, all the time? Good luck with that, it’s never happening. 

Why does everything always have to be right in the middle? The whole too hot, too cold, just right thing, with Goldilocks? She’s not real, for one thing; it’s a made-up story that's supposed to teach moderation, and maybe something about interspecies symbiosis. The story isn’t a life lesson though; she was just picky. She was searching for moderation, but how did she do it? By breaking into the home of a bear family, eating their food and sleeping in their beds. Doesn’t sound like moderation to me.


There will be times when I have to choose a moderate, average, safe course of action, it’s unavoidable. There will also be times when I am the living equivalent of an ancient Irish banshee. Sounds workable, right? Who’s with me?