Don’t quiz me!

When people tell me that I should be a stand-up comedian, do you know what I do?
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Well, I don’t go do stand-up, that’s for damn sure! Instead, I keep being as funny as I possibly can, making sure the person who said it stands by his or her opinion. If I actually went on to do a stand-up show, there would be rules and requirements, and the audience would be totally different. Sure, I could really rock, but I’d probably be slaughtered by both crowd and judges. The same goes for talent shows and song contests. “Oh, my friends all told me I could sing!” Well, you can sing; you just can’t do it very well…
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I realize that since the dawn of time, humans have worked hard for confirmation. Everyone wants to be good at something and everyone wants to succeed; but does that mean we have to constantly keep score and test ourselves?
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I, for instance  have a really good memory (or so I’m told). Given a little bit of time and a thread to grab,  I can remember most days of my life, down to the tiniest detail. Do you know what happens when I tell people that? They test me and put me on the spot! And if I fail their tests, I’ll have proven to them that my memory is not that good. This is why I don’t tell people about it; I just keep remembering stuff instead, proving every day that I have a good memory. And that’s all I need, really, anything more would just amount to a stupid party trick.

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Why I hate quizzes

If you haven’t figured it out yet, it’s because they make me look stupid! Hell, quizzes make everyone look stupid. (Except that semi-autistic friend who reads encyclopedias, of course) I’m proud of having a wide array of information stored in my noggin. I don’t know exceptional amounts of stuff, but I do all right. Combine a good memory with a burning curiosity, and suddenly you know much more than you think you do. It’s easy to carry conversations during lunch and I can drop interesting bits of facts and knowledge when opportunity knocks. (Without being a douche, thank you.) I owe much of this to my writing; constantly researching weird stuff. My mother-in-law was super exited to hear about the flint-lock pistol and its evolution! (Although, now that I think about it, her elation might’ve been ironic.)
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Then, this happens…

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I’m far from horrible at quizzes, mind you. I’d say I’ve won a lot more than I’ve lost, but that’s not the real problem here, because the damage is already done. I suppose I carry some childhood trauma with me into this mess, because the only person I always let down during a quiz, is myself. I’ve often been called a sore loser (due in no small part to my ‘death stares’, I’d wager), but also because I fall completely silent when I get something wrong.
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One time, a girl said, “oh come on! You’re just a sore loser!” before the quiz was even over, because I was arguing the finer points. (I know, sometimes I’m that guy…) But I didn’t start this argument, and my team even won, without getting the point I was arguing over. And I still ended up as the ‘sore loser’.
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Here’s the thing; I’m not a sore loser! I’m just fucking fragile, okay? My stunning good looks and smashing success in life might cause people to think I’m impervious, but when I mess up on a quiz, I grow quiet because my fucked up mind is struggling to justify my wrong answer, even though it’s just plain wrong. And when people start with the ‘friendly ribbing’, that’s even worse, because that’s just a constant reminder that I didn’t live up to my own expectations.(Unless it’s about soccer. Seriously, if you know lots of stuff about soccer; congratulations, you’ve wasted your life! You’ll be great at quizzes but horrible at life.)
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This probably sounded a lot worse than it actually is, but I’m tired of being the ‘sore loser’. It’s just another pressure point, really, because now I feel like I have to win, to prove that I don’t care one way or the other. (Which, if you’ve read all of this, you’ll know to be untrue.) So if you’re ever quizzing me, be gentle, okay? Like a waterbed, my ego is bloated, comfortable and hell to get away from, but fragile during sex. (Quizzes! I meant quizzes…)
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(Also, why does Google image-searching “super hard quiz” result in a whole bunch of Hunger Games pictures?)
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Sincerely, Bishop
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