If You Were Wondering - Tumblr Posts
have I really been listening to the magnus archives for the past 8 hours nonstop??
yes, yes I have
Shoutout to google for somehow helping me find the exact song I was looking for despite not searching any of the right lyrics
if i were to post my play somewhere.. A) would anyone like to see it B) where does one post these things
car detailing shop but instead of adding more detail to your car they just fix your eyesight
Why America Really Is Great and Math Really Is Also
because people can actually believe whatever they want, even if it's totally absurd.
and the ACLU will defend Nazis (who they really do hate) in the name of a higher principle.
and i can sit here, being essentially the luckiest girl on earth because I can just sit here reading on my bed and know that my biggest problems are really just homework that really is a blessing.
And I really do love America, but I love the happy world of math probably more.
MATH IS CRAZY. SOMEHOW WE CAN MODEL THE MASSIVE ABSTRACT IDEAS AND PATTERNS THAT MAKE UP OUR UNIVERSE JUST BY CONDENSING THEM TO "NUMBERS" AND SYMBOLS WE ASSIGN MEANING TO? THAT ALL RECOGNIZE AND FOLLOW THE SAME NATURAL LAWS? HOLY FUCK I LOVE THE WORLD.
I had kind of a mathy existential crisis today when we started learning about the derivatives of inverse hyperbolic trig functions. i mean really, those words /mean/ something. ultimately, they /matter/. AND SOME ONE JUST, LIKE, FOUND THAT OUT.
WITHOUT A CALCULATOR.
dear god i think i might want to be a mathematician
Ten minute write while I wait for my train day 3/?
I really hate the subway. It’s grimy. It’s often late. It’s loud as hell and overwhelming. It’s filled with weird people who stare at me or try to talk to me. It’s not actually all that cheap, though it is much cheaper than driving.
Every so often I see people on the train I know I’ll never see again. And then I see them again the next day, or a few weeks later, or a month or two later. I wonder if they remember me the way I remember them. The girl with the black and red hair and striking eyes and big headphones. The tall woman with the cream colored dress. The man who spent the whole hour-plus ride sitting up straight, staring straight ahead, looking at nothing, listening to nothing, his hands folded neatly in his lap. I wonder who I would be to them. The girl fiddling with her rings? The girl giggling at something on her podcasts? The girl who smiled at them on their way home? I wonder.
If the train was made of little moments like this, tiny connections where the world is suddenly cozier because oh right, I have seen you before, and you were soft and kind, then the train and I might get along better. But instead it clangs the loudest bell I’ve heard and it echoes through the tunnel and I cover my ears like a child while it approaches.
It is something I do not miss on weekends or holidays. But sitting here, watching the town fly by, I find myself wondering about the mother and her young daughter who used to read to one another every morning. I hope they are happy. I doubt they think about me.
