What's official? I am not smart enough. And, much like Lisa Simpson was accused of being, I am a dilettante. That degree I sweated over? Pah! Worthless! The vocabulary that many people have complimented me on? Insufficient. My hundreds of thousands of dollars of books? Fancy, textured wallpaper.
But, Carrie G., what happened to embracing your intelligence? I do embrace (I do!) but what I am doing here is lamenting the fact that all those brains stuffed into my noggin aren't enough.
You may be wondering where this newfound despair comes from. I'm ashamed to tell you, so come closer and I'll whisper. It's about a boy. See, I told you it was bad. If you'll take a moment to peruse my post about why I hate on the internet, you'll see that I'm cyber-crushing on someone. Well, the more I find out about him (by reading blogs and comments, NOT by sitting outside of his house and chain-smoking while wearing a floppy hat and sunglasses) the more I fall in love with his mind. Again, there is nothing wrong with being attracted to someone on a purely (so far) intellectual level, but now I feel as though he is super out of my league.
Pish-tosh, Carrie G., any man would be happy to have your brain. Perhaps, but, and this is bad so I'm going to whisper again, I'm used to being the smarter one in a relationship. See? I'm terrible. Now, I'm happy to absorb what people have to offer, but it's an unusual feeling for me when it comes to boy-girl things. I honestly believe that this boy will find me lacking in the brains department. Add that to the fact that I'm not super-knowledgable about any ONE subject, and I'm about to give up before I begin.
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