The other day, I was in my back yard when I spotted my neighbors coming out of their house. I quickly darted behind the rapidly deteriorating tool shed behind my house before they could spot me, and I watched them through the ever widening cracks in the building’s siding. As they got into their SUV and drove out of sight, it dawned on me that there’s something wrong with the picture in which I then found myself. After all, it’s not every day that you hear of a 35 year old man spying on his neighbors in broad daylight. Then it hit me. I wasn’t spying. I was avoiding.
I was instantly ashamed. Then I thought of all the times I’ve avoided people over the course of my 35 years. I have actually become quite good at it. From fake stomach aches to made up schedule conflicts to the age-old excuse of “I was going to go, but I fell asleep” I’ve avoided lots of potentially uncomfortable situations over the course of my young life. Take for instance, my chance encounter with an old high school classmate, which took place just a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen Ray in almost 18 years. I was in Target with my daughter. We were shopping for men’s toiletries, when I looked up and discovered a face that just 18 years earlier had been covered in the most horrible acne you’d ever hope to see. Now clean shaven and acne free, Ray had all the signs of a model citizen, and I should have approached him. I didn’t. Instead, Emily and I spent the next 30 minutes dodging in and out of the aisles like cockroaches in a recently lit room, hoping that he wouldn’t spot us. Actually… I was hoping. Poor Emily was as confused as she was dizzy from all of our back tracking. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just go say ‘hey’ to my old friend.
At first glance, such antisocial behavior can be a little troubling. After all, many criminals get their start by spying on their neighbors and dodging old friends at Target. However, I’d like to offer an alternative explanation. My anti-social tendencies are less a sign of criminal element and more an indication of genius… ness.
Schopenhauer postulated that true geniuses are almost always anti-social. One of the reasons for this is the simple fact that a genius can’t find intellectual stimulation in others, so he’s forced to choose instead his own company. Another cause for the observed behavior is the fact that geniuses often see the world in a different light than others – so it becomes necessary for them to ‘break away’ from the widely accepted views of the masses by refusing to conform to their social bonds.
Now, I’m not exactly sure who Schopenhauer is, but he makes a very compelling case. After all, I’ve always rather enjoyed my own company and many times, I find myself laughing out loud at my own internal dialogue. Other people, for the most part, just aren’t that interesting, and many times I fake laugh at their jokes just to get them to go away. Sometimes this backfires – like when I become so bored that I quit listening, then I fake laugh as they’re telling me about the death of a loved one. Of course, because I’ve quit listening, they’re the only ones who truly feel uncomfortable, so it’s not all bad.
At this point in my argument, you may be thinking, “what other signs of genius-ness have you demonstrated?” I’ve never developed an atomic bomb. I didn’t paint ‘The Last Supper’ or compose Sonatas at the age of 4. I don’t hold the patent to the light bulb or the computer. When I was 8, I did manage to build a house for my dog Skipper. I framed out the sides using 1x6’s, which took a long time. I was only 8. So when it came time to putting a roof on, I opted for the quick and easy route of buying a sheet of poster board and gluing it to the frame. I painted the whole thing baby blue, except for the top, which was a neon yellow sheet of poster board. Skipper was too scared of the house’s unnatural color that he never once went inside. My brother took one look at it and said, “nice job, genius.” And while I’m sure he meant well, I’m not sure that dog house qualifies me for genius status.
But I’m convinced that one day I will do something great. One day I will invent something. Or perhaps I’ll sculpt something beautiful. Or maybe I’ll become President of the US or start a multi-level marketing company. Until then, however, I’m a genius waiting to happen. I show all the signs. I’m truly an Einstein in the making.
