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They're Up There Somewhere

I usually get up at 4am for a healthy breakfast of Folgers or Columbian Supremo, so I wasn�t really surprised when the alarm went off at 4am on Friday. I was pissed, however, as I couldn�t get to work at 6am like normal because I had to take Herbert in for an oil change at 7:30. When I tried to set the alarm to 6am and get some more sleep, nothing but madness ensued. This button started the radio, that button made �10� mysteriously flash. When I thought I finally had it, I realized through my 4am sleepy haze that I had set the alarm to 4am and the time to 6am, not the other way around. At which point, I pulled a Jerri Blank from Strangers with Candy, and knocked everything off my dresser with my arm in a childish fit of rage.

Given that the alarm was now inoperable, I decided to just get up. Since I had a few extra hours to spare, I decided to read all of the dribble in my diary and look for spelling mistakes. I�d like to reason this as keeping my English skills sharp as I once was a newspaper editor. No really � what, just because I use run-on sentences, clauses replace whole paragraphs, and I haven�t a clue about punctuation, you don�t believe me? Fine, be that way.

The truth is, I am just anal retentive enough to fill the few moments of extra time I have editing my own diary, not watching TV or writing a letter to my sister I haven�t spoken to in 11 months, or cleaning the house which is now officially carpeted, even though I have no carpeting (those damn cats lose more hair that I would have ever thought possible, and the Hoover vac is just no match.)

Reading my old entries, I realized something. I�m truly am a mathematician. I mean � I already knew that, but most of the time I feel like I�m just faking it. People are so much smarter than me when it comes to math, like those people that can take square roots in their head and solve 3 variable polynomials (remember those?) without pen and pencil. Bastards! It always leaves me feeling very inadequate in comparison because even though I can do some pretty incredible stuff with my HP120c, I can�t do anything without my calculator. The numbers just aren�t there in my brain automatically like they are for other mathematicians. I have to force them in.

Although, reading through my diary, I was amazed to find how many numbers I work into my writing. Just look at my first paragraph, 4 4 6 7:30 6 10 4 4 6. There�s numbers all over the place. I think they really are in my brain somewhere, I just need to get them working for good instead of evil � or rather I need to get them working for my evil boss and stop working for my diaryland entries. Recognizing their existence is a small step, but it gives me hope.

Uh oh. It�s 6:31. Speaking of numbers in my head� that�s a spooky one. No really, I see it everywhere. I see 6:31 on the clock everytime it comes around. I see it in road signs and interest rates and addresses. If it�s there, my eyes will move towards it. Last week I was driving past an address of 631 on highway 631 and I looked down at the clock and it was 6:31. I almost went off the road. Avoid 631 at all costs kids, I don�t know what it is, but it freaks me the hell out.

But the point is, I should be off to play with geeks in the great city of New York again. 9am-5pm conference of discussing insurance and mortality and interest and annuities and perpetuities and reserves. Jealous?