Intellectual Inferiority and Unadulterated Glee

I've always been convinced that I am secretly a moron. I'm sure some would agree. There is proof to the contrary - decent grades, published writing, etc., but I'm still worried that I'm infinitely dumber than I think I am. Worse - that others judge me for it. I used to fear the days in high school when I'd have to hand over my essays to someone for peer reviews. On some level I intentionally brought it on myself. I wrote ridiculous things, absurd things - I once compared the plight of Ethan Frome to a doughnut that fell off of the teacher's desk right as we began the assignment. By refusing to be serious about an assignment, I could write off failure as no big deal.

It was particularly awful when I was partnered with a friend for the reviews. Friends are especially well-equipped to judge me. Negatively. I remember wincing as I saw them pick up their pen to scribble a note on the crisp white pages. I always hoped to get back something that was still pristine, devoid of any marks that would be sure to tell me I was a douche-tastic bottom-dwelling turd, unqualified to clean a toilet a the local Perkins. (Which, coincidentally, I did for awhile. On that note, men are completely disgusting. You would not believe the kinds of things they leave in urinals. Anyway...) By the time my essays were finally handed back to me, the scribbling was invariably positive, but I was still convinced the grader actually felt otherwise. I was sure they were secretly judging me. Like those ladies at church with the raised, over plucked, drawn-in orange eyebrows, poodle perms and holiday sweaters. The ones who always seemed to have three vapid children with glazed over eyes and a Labrador. Or a poodle. To match the hair, I assume.

Luckily, I don't *always* feel this way. Sometimes the world shows me that there are in fact people dumber than myself. Sometimes the world hands me a golden nugget of comedic goodness that breaks through the gloom and monotony of daily life with the white hot passion of one thousand burning suns. For me, last night was one of those times.

I should preface this by mentioning that I am still in school. I take the majority of my classes online, through a brick and mortar college that happens to have an online program attached to it. I can't say I love all of the students - they are the same people from which I intended to escape when I left* Montana for greener pastures. I'm also displeased with the quality of the education I'm paying precious shoe money for, mainly because I feel neither intellectually challenged nor engaged. I worry that I'm not learning anything.

Here is the nugget of glory that made me first smirk, then snort, then belly laugh in a sort of seizure of snorting, giggling, chuckling, tears and that silent laughter where you just shake and make zero sound. My boyfriend probably thought I was dying.

Last night a classmate said:

"I really had a hard time thinking about what 'issue' is the 'most pressing in the world.' But to get this out there - 'world' to me is the entire planet."

Oh. My. God.


Derek Zoolander goes to my school.

*ran screaming from

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