I feel I can quite comfortably describe myself as a competent person. I have achieved in life, have pieces of paper to quantify my competence, I appreciate complex literature and understand abstract ideas. However, I have come to find that there are a few things in my life that barely touch the surface of my intellect, and in fact hit the edge of my brain and ricochet back off into the ether. I’ve reflected on this and have decided that what I have is a disorder called selective intelligence. In this way, I have selected NOT to learn a few particular life skills, and NOT to understand some abstract notions, even when they have been explained or demonstrated to me time and time again.
Put simply, it goes like this -when I encounter these everyday situations, I still feel the need to pretend that I want to learn, and I ask questions. Then someone patiently tries to explain to me what is happening, or how to solve my problem –but in the immortal words of the Living End song ‘all I am hearing is white noise’. Someone’s lips are moving, but all I can hear is the crackle and whoosh of white noise. No doubt my jaw goes slack and I resemble a yokel as I nod slowly, pretending to comprehend what is happening. Sometimes I may even repeat a step or a piece of advice but really it’s just mimicry. None of it, I mean none of it, has lodged in my mind.
And here the main culprits.
1. Putting the air in the tyres. Where do I find what number they should go up to again? How often do I do it? What’s all this about rotation? White noise.
2. Putting on the doona cover. So I put it inside out and hold which corners? Does it flip over my head, don’t I need it the right side out? White noise.
3. Changing the Foxtel to become the DVD player. Which button on the remote do I press? Do I have to turn the Foxtel off? Why isn’t the DVD playing? White noise.