Been trying to straighten my dump house up a bit lately. As an unintended consequence, I’ve stumbled across some items that I haven’t looked at in more than 16 years, when I graduated college and packed up some stuff. Some things were good to find (yay, large format launch vehicle drawings!), and others… well, sometimes sentimentalism is a pain in the ass. The “class photo” from my time at Space Camp in 1983, for instance. “ ?I looked like *that?* What the hell happened??” coupled with the recognition that back then, the future was clear: I’d graduate with my aerospace degree about 1992, and immediately sign on at NASA… not as an astronaut (damn you, eyesight!), but as the next genius rocket designer. By 1992, of course, the Space Shuttle would either be replaced, or soon would be, so I’d clearly be on the team designing if not the manned mission to Mars, then perhaps the manned mission to Jupiter.
And then I found the letter I’d had taped on my wall for several years cuz I was so proud of it… my acceptance letter into Mensa, with hard objective mathematical evidence that I was special. But I quickly found that that meant precisely *dick.* Go ahead, give it a try: “Hey, baby, I’ve got a measured IQ rating of 153!” It doesn’t work.
Maybe it was my delivery, I dunno.
Maybe I wore the wrong hat.