Do you know when you get so frustrated doing something that you start thinking about parallel abstract equivalents to pat the ego bump? I’ve been working on the same Maths sheet all day, and I’m not done yet. I’ve even missed Arabic class because I’d rather do Maths and because, well, who the fuck cares about Arabic class? It’s almost irrelevant. The dude just stands there and reads what we already have in the binders. We can read too, you know. Anywho, so I got frustrated with logarithms and started thinking that maybe the only reason I like Maths is because it’s one of the few things I haven’t already conquered, as egotistical as that sounds at the back of my head. There’s always a little more to know about it and you could never quite get the hang of it, it’s almost humbling how it accentuates your insignificance with just another couple of signs. Then I started thinking, maybe all I actually like about Maths is the challenge, like everything, and come to think of it, everyone, in my life. You know when you’re after something just because you just can’t get your arms around the fact that you might not be able to do it, and drop it as soon as you unlock whatever riddle it offers? In simpler words, maybe I’m the bedazzled dude and Maths is the hard-to-get chick.
And by God I’m getting that chick no matter what. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m a spoiled little stubborn brat who’s used to getting her way. Bring it on, Maths sheet. You think you’re so hot? Drop-dead gorgeous much? Mesh 3lya ya mama.
Ok I might have got a wee bit too emotional there.
*Looks to Maths sheet* I’m onto you.
December has been quite..what’s the word for it. Tempestuous? Nah. Maybe just a little too Beethoven-y for my taste; going all smooth then bursting out in symphonic epic harmonies that almost seem like they’re meant for you to go deaf in some karmic settling of scores. 2010 seems to have ‘catching up on some soul-reaping’ on its to-do list. Trying to go out with a bang, eh?
It’s still slow tho. It still has the ‘I-won’t-rush-if-my-life-depended-on-it’ feel, which after all metaphorically makes sense in a way. It is the last month of the year, innit?
2011 is an odd number. I like odd numbers. 2009 was an odd number tho. I hate odd numbers. 2010’s been even, a compromise, a package of pulsating aftermaths. I detest even numbers.
And cookies are awesome.
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