Whenever I doubt my abilities, which starts every day just after I wake up and before my first coffee, I remind myself of certain facts to puts things in perspective and help me feel…more geniusy.
Did you know Einstein failed kindergarten? And he started talking really late – in his early twenties – I think. Not only that. E=MC2 was originally D=LB1, but while his mom bathed him the ink he wrote the formula in got all soggy. Genius, my ass.
Then, just as I start to feel smarter, I recall that Paul McCartney wrote When I'm Sixty Four in his mom's womb. The "Sixty Four" refers to the 64 days in her tummy when he grabbed a guitar and composed. Amazing, and a true downer for me, since I play piano, but I didn't even start until after I was born. And I needed lots of lessons.
On the other hand, Mozart never wrote anything worth listening to until the age of 8. What a wasted toddlerhood. I, on the other hand, did amazing things with crayons.
Da Vinci invented all kinds of cool shit, like the Slapchop and Craftmatic Adjustable bed, but have you ever seen that lady painting? What's it called? The Mona Lisa? It's soooooo tiny. You can barely see it from 40 feet away. How the hell does anyone know if it's really that good when you can't get close to it?
I feel better knowing that. But then…
All my confidence is destroyed remembering Marconi, who invented macaroni, the miracle food that fueled the rise of universities everywhere. The poor man never got any credit because of a silly spelling mistake. Marconi and cheese would have brought him the fame he deserved. Instead, he is known for the annoying radios blaring out of passing sports cars.
I feel smart. I feel dumb. I feel smart. I feel dumb.
I can't decide which is right.
