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I've spent the last hour pouring over the latest magnificently illustrated column by the marvelous Maria Kalman. It's a beautiful tribute to a brilliant, insatiably curious Renaissance man. Check it out. Kalman notes that the subject spoke six languages and was also "a scientist, philosopher, statesman, architect, musician, naturalist, zoologist, botanist, farmer, bibliophile, inventor, art and wine connoisseur, mathematician... [as well as] Govenor, Secretary of State, Minister to the Court of Louis XVI, Vice President, President..."

The mind reels.

I can't help but wonder what it must be like to have all portions of the brain functioning at maximum capacity, and how it must feel to see it all come together-- art and reason, math and "beauty." For my entire life, the math part of my brain has been functionally catatonic... what do mathematicians mean when they say "math is beautiful?"

I'm learning about Greek architecture in one of my classes, and my course textbook states that the Parthenon "may be expressed algebraically as x = 2y + 1." The book goes on to state that the "stylobates ratio of length to width is 9:4, because 9 = (2 x 4) + 1." (Gardner's Art Through the Ages: A Global History, 13th Edition, Volume 1, pp 127).

But it's not just buildings (which are in essence configurations of geometry) that can be explained in this way. The book also covers Pythagoras' assertion that "harmonic chords in music are produced on the lyre at regular intervals that may be expressed as ratios of whole numbers--2:1, 3:2, 4:3. He and his followers, the Pythagoreans, believed more generally that underlying proportions could be found in all of nature, determining the form of the cosmos as well as of things on earth that beauty resided in harmonious numerical ratios. By this resoning, a perfect statue would be one constructed according to an all-encompassing mathematical formula."(pp 124)

A statue? Really??

Huh.

This September I'll begin studying algebra... so maybe my teacher can explain this concept to me, because I just can't grasp it. It's like the math part of my brain is a dead limb. I can yell at it and poke it with a stick... I could even hurl a discus at it... but it just lies there, lifeless and inert. Wake up, right brain!! If algebra doesn't rouse you, maybe my forthcoming astronomy class will. Consider yourself warned, you lazy motha.

It's ten-thirty peee-eem, on June first, in the year of two thousand and nine.

I'm valiantly trying to stay awake after a lovely steamy bit of hydrotherapy. Do you take baths? You should. I recommend making it as hot as you can stand it, adding salts and oils and bringing in a HUGE bottle of cold water and drinking it all as you soak and scrub and sweat. It's hard work people! But seriously, sweating out all those toxins... changing your oil, so to speak, is so good for you. Scrub that skin, rotate those tires! Vroom! I don't know. Don't ask me. Take a bath/don't take a bath. Suit yourself.

I'm starting school in fourteen days. Re-starting school, I should say. Actually, starting over would actually be the most accurate way to describe it. See I've been in school off-and-on for the last ten years, studying everything under the sun (mostly political science, philosophy, creative writing, journalism, psychology, African American studies, you get the gist), which is all very wonderful... until one starts to wonder about graduating. That handy diploma, that elusive golden fleece, that magic carpet that will sweep me off to the land of milk and honey. Yeah, I'm waaaaaay far away from getting that, in spite of my ten zillion credits. Item: I've studied several different languages with little or no regard for the fact that one must reach a certain level of proficiency to complete college requirements. I've managed to maintain minimal proficiency in French, ASL, Arabic, Latin and (starting in fourteen days) Spanish. While it is wise to diversify, it is stupid to scatter one's efforts.

And then there's math, which I've managed to avoid completely. I've created a parallel universe in which math doesn't exist. Sort of like Schrodinger's Cat. Is it alive? Is it dead? Who knows? I feel this quantum feat of selective consciousness should be worth some college credit, but alas my counsellor begs to differ. So I will begin [at] the beguine, the ground zero for all math flunkies: pre-algebra. That's alright, go ahead and laugh. I will be thirty-three in August and I will be taking pre-algebra. I'm hoping that I will uncover a latent genius for polynomials and vector spaces, and go on to discover ground breaking equations and be an inspiration to mathematically challenged drop-outs everywhere! That'd be cool.

But in all seriousness, I can't avoid math any longer. I believe it will pay excellent dividends to confront and conquer this fucking nightmare once and for all. In the immortal words of Eleanor Roosevelt: "Believe in yourself. You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You must do that which you think you cannot do."