Lurking as I do on the fringes of the rambling HBD-sphere, I find that I’m frequently afflicted with that uneasy “stranger in a strange land” syndrome in which I tend to agree with much of what is written while simultaneously falling prey to a category that, by virtue of said paradigm, garners little respect and much ridicule. I don’t mind the ethnic hierarchy which is erected around HBD blogs. I accept that “my” group does not present the most stellar level of intellectual achievement. I don’t care. But what does bug me about the HBDsphere are the relentless pissing matches centered around self-reported (and purported) intelligence measurements. It plays out as a smart man’s proxy for squabbles over penis size. Everyone brags but no one shows proof. Men might boast of being a SD above the mean dick size (I somehow doubt they use such terminology) but in the HBDsphere guys (and girls) are more apt to boast of their intellectual dick size. Since this is the internet I’m speaking of, I’m sure many people are honest but it is a given that many boasts are as questionable and empty as the brains of many NAM’s they despise.
All the alleged intelligence that exists in abundance here is hearsay, really. Nevertheless, I concur that most of the HBDsphere bloggers and commenters are one or two SD’s above the IQ mean simply because of the filtering mechanism in place that qualifies most people who read blogs relating to the subject matter as possessing inherently higher intelligence than the normal person. The problem is that we end up with this community of bright people, many who boast of astronomical intelligence, and the conversations and interactions become so parochial and sheltered within the confines of the circle of blogs that we can easily lose sight of the fact that the level of intelligence we are witnessing is absolutely not normal. If you don’t believe me, pay extra attention the next time you head down to the grocery store. The general public is not the HBDsphere. If you’re of above average intelligence, you can spot the grating void that exists between your heightened perception and that of most average people you need to share an elevator or bus with. See, it’s all about perception and frame of reference. By reading blogs and comments in the HBDsphere you are exposing yourself to some of the finer minds that you’ll probably encounter in your daily life. It’s quite natural to fall into the trap that people will be just as bright in real life. This is not the case.
Now, as far as Yours Truly is concerned. He is reasonably intelligent. For a Mexican. If you listen to HBD (LOL). He is above average in intelligence. He is not as smart as some great minds, but probably more so than some other self-professed great minds. In this sector, he is average; in the general public sector, his intelligence is sufficiently above average.
I suppose the best thing for me would be to hang out with a bunch of average people and indulge in some of that “big fish in a small pond” artificially inflated sense of self. I’ve frequently “hung out” with a bunch of average people and I am generally very bored in such situations. In fact, this is one reason I abhor crowds. Most people and their mindless banter bore me. This is not a value judgement. I’m not “better” than anyone. I’m different. A crowd of average intelligence in some situations are sparked into a frenzy of average mindlessness by an unfortunate element of the crowd’s purpose to assemblage and I find this excruciating. This occurs at all levels and aspects of life. I’ve often wondered what it is about most “average-minded” people that repels me. Is it the fact they don’t share my interests, my values, my priorities? Perhaps all of the above. There is a difference in behavior and affect, as well. People of average intelligence behave in a very average manner. They engage the world in very average routines. I’ve tried to wear the average hat, but it leaves me empty and frustrated because I wear it very badly. If my drive to fit in were stronger, I would still try. Being that I’ve outgrown that high school fascination with being “normal,” I now bask in my “abnormality.”
And then there is a question of just how much of my abnormality is behavioral, and how much is owing to my “vast” intelligence (snark). I think it’s a combination of both. Even in the company of intelligent people, I frequently find I’m still not quite at ease. Nevertheless, the measurement of differences I experience between myself and intelligent people are less severe than the differences I experience with people of average intelligence. I get along better with intelligent people because they are generally “quirky” in temperament and I’m preternaturally inclined to favor the quirky since it is usually a reliable signal to intelligence. People of average intelligence are rarely quirky, or at least charmingly so.
This disjuncture I experience with people of average or below average intelligence is owing to a difference in behavioral temperament and outward engagement with our environments. When I’m dealing with those of average intelligence, I feel as if I am interacting with people who are mired in a torpor. I often wish people would talk faster, think faster. That they would pick up the pace because I’m getting impatient and I would have done “that” by now. I sometimes feel as if I am a hummingbird that can’t slow down in relation to others. This doesn’t have to do with raw speed, per se, but with human cognitive processing speed. Thinking of our minds as a processor when speaking of a torpor, I am referring to the sharpness and execution of inner dialogues and thoughts and their ready conversion to an outward manifestation of action and speech. When I say people seem to be in a torpor, I am not implying they are physically slow, but that the exchange of internal data that motivates their verbal and physical expression seems stalled. A somewhat useful analogy might be the “time dilation” witnessed in Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity. From the perspective of my own pace, the average-minded community ticks along at an agonizingly slow speed and their advance is nearly imperceptible despite the fact we are sharing replicas of identical clocks. My minute is condensed, savagely racing, while their minute is lethargic and appears stalled. However, from their perspective, time is moving along at a perfectly normal and acceptable pace! Same unit of time, different progression. This is how the disjuncture appears to me. A visible torpor that owes its existence only to my own private processing pace. The Law of Torpor.
In fact, I can spot intelligent people quickly and subconsciously by observing their torpor level. It’s a meta-communication I understand when meeting people for the first time.