It took me 28 years to decide that, rather than being smart, I would rather be nice. The bad thing wasn't the fact that everybody had told me that I was smart up to that point, but that I actually believed it. Its easy, I was born with it. I don't have to work with it -- I'm cursed having it on all the time.

Nobody, though, ever stands over an open casket, looks down and goes "gee, we'll miss him. He was so smart." Not at all. Smart-guy, smart-ass, smart-aleck: For better or for worse, smart gets no respect. Nice guys finish last, but smart guys never seem to find the race in the first place.

And I'm perfectly happy just competing.