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Today's Featured Biography
Jerry Deitz
My name is Jerry Deitz, I like to make people laugh and have fun. Turn bad things in to a positive. Life is too short to be bummed. I went to Paris with my mother for two weeks, and climbed the Eiffel tower stairs all the way to the top even though it was blocked, just to say I did it. I've raced just about everything with a motor, and have been very successful at it! Famous quote "if your in control, your not going fast enough" racing WAS an outlet, or release and my PAST! It put me into a zone, almost like meditation, only better because of the rush! I also own a very successful landscape grounds maintenance company that has been around since 1992. I own other Companies also. I enjoy meeting new people, good conversation, most all sports, but not a sports nut! The racing thing isn't my life, but WAS a release! I enjoy going for a walk, or hike, bicycling, camping, jet skiing, boating, snowmobiling, Motorcycle rides, watching a movie, and just hanging out. Possible long term Relationship. Basically enjoying life! I deal with what life brings into my life. I feel strongly "everything is for a reason". "Make the best of each day" "live each day as it is your last". Last one mine ((-;
I am a giver, not a taker. I will always go out of my way to help those in need. My Sister is my Best Friend and said it's time to get back out there into the dating world. I enjoy making others happy. Looking for a relationship, not a "fling"! I am a very kind hearted guy. True Gentleman type. I am a caring and giving but strong type man. Well more upon request. Hope you enjoyed my story. By the way, I'm Very easy going.
Talk Nerdy or "techie" to Me: My Year in Mensa
I’ve always struggled with feeling like an outsider. By joining Mensa, could I find a place where I fit in?
By, Jerry Deitz Jr.
The first thing you need to know is that no one has a good reason for joining Mensa. (Extremely high IQ society) Pretty much anyone who tries to join a high-IQ society does so, ultimately, because he or she is an insufferable jerk. Maybe years of bullying for being a mathlete or wearing argyle sweaters well into junior high has given the person an inferiority complex, or maybe he just wants a bumper sticker that lets everyone on I-95 know he’s a genius. Either way, it’s never for noble reasons, however hard someone might pretend otherwise.
I’ll spare you most of the details about the test. The highlights: It was in a public library in Spokane Washington Public Library, at 9 am on a Saturday, and the group of test takers was the most diverse group of people I’ve ever seen in one room. The proctor wore a Hawaiian shirt and told us he was sure we’d all pass. He handed out Mensa pencils (I was thrilled when we got to keep them) and informed us he was a member of a SIG called BLAM, which stands for Blazing, Lightly Armed Mensans. Once a month, he goes to a shooting range in Washington with fellow Mensans and then retires to a nearby Denny’s, where he and his friends “eat until we’re sick.”
Around a month later, I got a letter informing me that I qualified for admission. As long as I was happy to shell out the $70 annual membership fee, I was in. I asked my editor if I could expense it—you know, for the story. He looked at me with a distinctly suspicious expression. “We’ll pay for the first year,” he said, “but after that it’s on you.”
Washington is filled with brainiacs. Where else can you find so many large institutions dedicated to people sitting around and thinking? Between NIH, NSA, the CIA, and other acronymic organizations, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a PhD. Yet out of the 120,000 people in the area who statistically qualify for Mensa membership (the top 2 percent here), only about 2,000 are members, meaning the other 118,000 have better things to do. As a Washington Post story put it: “Mensa is not just a society for highly intelligent people; it is a society for people who want to belong to a society that tells them they are highly intelligent.”
And yet. Like most people who were once teenagers, I’ve always struggled with feeling like an outsider. I wrote poems in middle school based on Greek mythology. I played the Pink Panther theme on trombone in my school’s music class while everyone else was singing Spice Girls covers. I once tried to learn the entirety of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by heart because I like a challenge and I (mistakenly) thought it would be a neat party trick. I’m guarded about my personal space and was enthralled when I learned that at major gatherings Mensans wear “hug dots,” stickers that communicate how comfortable they are with being touched by strangers. Though I was alarmed by the eccentricity of the Capital M, the newsletter for members of Metropolitan Washington Mensa, I also wondered if I might find a place where I didn’t habitually feel like a freak.
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