Math Soothes The Savage Beast

(The "savage breast" always made me uncomfortable.)

Anyway, day one of a real lecture, which I spent reading the chapter for the week, doing the study problems to make sure I understood them, and doing the homework math questions as they were posted throughout class. After two-plus hours of conversions and scientific notation, I realized that I—an out and proud rageaholic—felt, well, calm. It was like a runner's high without the energy required for those absurd daydreams.

I hadn't experienced that sensation since post-college when I used to split up the landline phone bill (remember those?) between my two roommates and I, itemizing each 17-cent 1-minute long distance call and dividing the fees and taxes proportionally based on who used it more (nerd alert). Despite my career in writing, I've always loved math. It can be so frustrating when you don't get it but there always IS something to get. You get to be right or wrong, and it's so blissfully refreshing.

One problem with my job (in short: boiling psychological takes on relationships down into short PR blurbs) is that I've dissected human interactions in every imaginable form. So when there's drama, it's not like I bury myself in work, because work is all ABOUT overanalyzing drama. Instead, work just encourages me to dwell on it. To get away from all that and gain some perspective, I had to hunker down and do math. F writing through my feelings. My shrinks should have told me to "math out" my worries.

I had to wonder... could all of life's problems be solved with a simple mathematical formula? Hahaha I'm so kidding. Gross. (PS: I'm a total Miranda.)

Point is, I went in after 72 hours of overanalyzing and feeling unsettled and enraged (by a guy who acted flaky which proves that he feels x about me and y about himself and z about commitment and aa about boundaries and bb about respect and...) , and came out with a simple, realistic take (he's a dumbass who didn't think).

Also, my lab partner works at a hospital and is bringing me a lab coat. WHAT UP. I know. Killer.