So math is like a muscle? Practice it, you say? If that then is the case, mine has atrophied to the point of uselessness.
I find it hard to imagine that a beauty like the symmetry of a person’s face, or the arrangement of flower petals are determined by a jumble of numbers. At this point, I can only imagine the number of mathematicians that are getting mad at my statements. Well, I can imagine a bunch but I can’t imagine the number, I never can.
I find that numbers kill my imagination, so precise are they that they close up all the possibilities opened by the vagueness of words and make believe. Not everything has to be exact, leave room for magic!
So no, I do not like math and it’s intricacies. I do not want to know how long John would take to get to point x from point y at a speed of z. If I wanted to, I’d go find John and time him.
What am I saying? I’m saying sorry, I do not know how to solve for a square root. I’m saying I’m sorry that I have not memorized the whole of the multiplication table. I’m saying even calculators confuse me. I’m saying I have an economics midterm this week, so help me God.