Went to Metrotown yesterday to see Hero. It was amazing! Go and see it. If you want to read more about why I liked it, read my post on Karl’s Entertainment Division blog.

Before the movie, I went to Chapters to pick out a random book for my home library. Decided on Flowers for Algernon. LFAers might remember that we read an excerpt of this book in high school English; it had been that long since I had thought about this book, too. Well, back then I was emotionally moved by the story and thought that maybe it was time to read the whole book.

I’m a little scared about finishing it. It’s about Charlie Gordon, an intellectually stunted man in his 30s who volunteers himself as a guinea pig for a neuroscientific experiment. If successful, his below-70 IQ would increase to genius levels. He’s asked to write progress reports almost every day of the project. The book is written as the collection of Charlie’s reports as the surgery occurs and the results unfold. From the high school excerpt, I already know that the experiment will only work for the short term before his intelligence regresses and who knows what else. This is the part that scares me.

I guess most of my childhood has been marked (traumatized?) by my loneliness at being different. And most of what made me different was my knowledge and precociousness. Blame my parents that I read the 6 blue Popular Science encyclopedias before I reached grade 4. And that I loved to learn and that it didn’t take me long to grasp a new concept. Anyhow, my classmates didn’t like it. I was ostracized for being a know-it-all and a goody-two-shoes, which I fueled by being hostile and giving silent treatments when I got mad. I thought, better to be mad first than to be hurt first by their ridicule. It got worse when I needed glasses and braces and neck gear, and topped off when my mom gave me a ridiculous perm. Oh man, I was an ugly duckling.

Since everyone thought I was too smart, I focussed on taking pride in being knowledgeable and resigned myself to sucking at anything physical (which is inaccurate, now that I turned out to be good at salsa & swing dancing). Even in high school, where academics was highly valued, I felt like a pariah whenever I didn’t study and got a high mark on a test. (I especially remember the grumblings after one senior chemistry test, where I got the top mark and everyone knew I totally forgot to study for it. Someone even told me to stop flaunting it, which was funny because I had learned by gr 9 not to show my marks voluntarily.)

The point is, what I consider to be me became very closely linked to my mental abilities. In university, I sought the company of opinionated intellectuals, who talked about topics I was ignorant in, such as history and politics, so I could just sit back and listen to the conversation, rather than talk too much about my own opinions. I didn’t want to feel like a know-it-all or be left out anymore. In the work force, I chose a field where knowledge capital is respected and essential, rather than ridiculed. I wanted to be a “nerd” and be accepted for it.

So anyway, back to the book, which is all about the rise and fall of one man’s cognitive awareness. I REALLY don’t want to go out like that. As much as I am scared of drowning, suffocation, war, and overexposure (um, death, really), the worst thing I could imagine for myself is to die with the mindset of a child. To look at my family and friends and not remember everything that made me love them and cherish them. I hope I never get Alzheimer’s or get senile before I pass away. I hope my loved ones don’t have to hurt because I look at them like they were strangers. That would be terrible!

I will still read it, though, and hopefully get a deeper appreciation of the abilities I was given, and root out some more of that guilt from childhood from being “too smart”.