Dear Off Leash, I'm No Dummy

Dear Off Leash,

How do I politely show everyone else at this school that I’m smarter than them? I was in the top 20% of my high school graduating class. I got a really good SAT scores. I got off the waitlist really early. I’m obviously the highest IQ big brain in this school of godforsaken Neanderthals, but it seems like no one notices or appreciates my genius. 

One time, I was at a party, and I asked a girl what her major was. She responded,  “Philosophy.”

I laughed at her shit decision-making and said, “Why the hell did you choose that? Were you unable to get into a useful major?”

She looked at me as though I had said something offensive when I was just giving honest facts that she needed to hear. 

Then she said, “I’m actually double-majoring in biology.”

And I retorted, “Well, did you know that we’re mostly made of cells?”

She took a long sip of her beer, and said, “No I didn’t.”

“See, that’s the sort of thing you’ll need to know. You’ll learn a lot with me.” But she rudely walked off. I caught her hooking up with some chad who was going to “med school” to become a “eurosurgeon.” What kind of doctor only operates on Europeans? Idiots get all the girls. 

Later, I tried a more passive approach. I bought a copy of, I think, War and Peace in the original Russian and read it on a bench on the Quad. Or, at least, I stared at it. I don’t actually speak Russian. I mean, I could, if I wanted to take time out of my busy schedule to learn it. But everyone should speak English, so why should I bother? I flipped a page about once a minute, though. 

However, this one guy went up to me and was like, “Dude, why are you reading the Hunger Games in Klingon?”

Naturally, I corrected his mistake. “It’s actually War and Peace in the original Russian. I’ve read it in English already, but the prose is a lot stronger when you read it in the author’s native tongue.”

“Dude, there’s a mockingjay on the cover. Also, it’s upside down,” the idiot said dumbly.

I threw the book at his head. “Why don’t you try reading it now, fuckface?”

Now, I’m legally obligated to serve ten hours of community service and his family is filing a lawsuit. Oh well, maybe I’m like Van Gogh: brilliant and misunderstood until my death. I feel like there’s some way to signal that. I think it might click if I chopped my ear off, unless you think you have any better ideas.