Just some thoughts about perspectives on intelligence in Sherlock. I get the feeling this will be a long post, so I’m going to stick it under a Read More so I don’t inflict it on all of you. Still, I think it might be interesting, so….
I love everything about this post, to the point that I’m exhausted from reading it. Shipwash: the little girl who was able to run rings around her entire school but threw screaming fits and threw herself on the floor when she wasn’t able to tie her shoes by the age of eight, ride a bike by age ten, make a bed by age eleven, write her own address by age thirteen, or drive on a two-lane road by nineteen.
I’m glad I read this. It makes me feelings. For what it’s worth, I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was in middleschool, I still don’t make my bed and when I do it’s sloppy, my handwriting is god awful, I fold clothes like an ape, and two lane streets make me nervous.
Such is life.
Hi, I’m the kid from your last paragraph - drugs was the only way I could get my brain to STFU for once. God, it was amazing, not thinking of anything. Not having the world whipping round my head. And… addiction. So much less sexy than the movies. I didn’t do it for euphoria, I did it for the quiet. (This is why I pegged Sherlock as a morphine/heroin junkie than a speed/cocaine junkie. Uppers make your brain race, depressants make it quiet.)
Well, that was like reading my entire life summed up in one article
I’m not a genius. I’m not one of those kids who got sent to schools for the gifted, or whatever they’re called. But I was the kid who protested against reading any of my primary school books up to grade 4 because they were too easy. In year one, I was the kid who couldn’t even write my name without help, but could explain what Shakespeare was saying (and translate it into modern English). I was the kid who found logical fallacies in the bible in preschool, but couldn’t understand why people got upset at me pointing them out. I was the kid who read 12 books in the same time the rest of my class read 2, and I was the one who turned that assignment in late because I forgot I had it.
I’m still the person who has illegible handwriting. I rarely make my bed. I hate people pointing out my deficiencies. I’m easily distracted, and I have an instinctive expectation that I won’t get help if I ask for it, because I was always told “You should know this/it’s easy/figure it out yourself, you’re a bright girl”.
My thing is books, and facts. I fill my head with them, because otherwise the world gets too loud. It still does, sometimes.
(Source: shu-of-the-wind, via caliborm)