my eyes vs. infinity

I've been reading about math.

previously I've mentioned how difficult it can be to talk about a given book with people who haven't read it. I think it's different with non-fiction. it's far less subjective, and so what there is to be said about it is more easily said.

it's rare you'll find me in the non-fiction section without some specific project in mind, without precisely scribbled coordinates on a scrap of paper in my hand, but this time, so it happened. I was waiting for the printer, wandering in that maze of Dewey decimals, sans purpose, sans map. I came away with Ian Stewart's Why Beauty is Truth. it has a pretty blue butterfly on the cover.

to my little sister who is studying physics, I say: read this book. you will probably recognize more than I did all the fancy theories and theorists dancing through it.

what else do I have to say? I am full of flimsy little dreams of what it would be like to be a mathematician. between this lovely book, all the Seed magazine articles I've been chewing on thismorning, reruns of Numb3rs, and half a dozen other semi-enlightening distractions, I wonder if I'll ever be able to focus on writing. writing is what I really really most want to do, right? hmm.

it's all about symmetry. balance. transformation and consistency and logical patterns. a lot of crazy math had to be concocted before we could get to where we understood so much about the universe. Stewart ties up his review of mathematical history with the observation that even seemingly pointless excursions into the realms of theoretical science, when looked at again and again from varying perspectives, may yield wonderful possibilities for discovering more and more about the world we live in. it's the counterpoint between the loftiness of theory and the weightiness of practicality. it's all those gaps...

and reading so many stories of often under-appreciated brilliance makes me feel much better about my own seemingly pointless wonderings about the way things are. you never know where such questions will take you. even if nobody (including yourself) thinks your idea is very cool, in another hundred years it might turn out to be.

I should probably spend more time among those non-fiction shelves.

{incidentally--and it took the author's most blatant of hints (on page 176, when he mentions his friend Terry Pratchett) before I realized this--Ian Stewart co-authored The Science of Discworld, which I uncharacteristically spent my last scrap of British money on, at a bookshop in the Gatwick international airport. why don't airports have libraries in them? }

i'm sorry if it reminds you of toothpaste

I like having the kitchen to myself. it's quiet. nobody gets in your way. you get in nobody's way. you can move from the pantry to the table to the cupboards without tripping over people or kicking anyone in the knee. you can leave bits of chocolate all over the counter without worrying about it getting stolen by your little brothers. it's lovely.

and this is what I did with my kitchen solitude:
I took them to church and they all got eaten. neither I nor my brothers got to taste the fluffy white cake with pink peppermint frosting and chocolate stars or stripes.

now we'll just have to make more.

we play frisbee

most sports come with two teams, two ends of a field, and a lot of space in the middle. and then we attempt to ferry the object, the frisbee, the ball, the flag, or--in the case of one legendary camping trip I keep hearing about from my brothers--a plastic bottle full of ashes, across this space to score. that's our job. the other team's job is to stop us. there is much switching of roles.

if the defender is breathing down your neck, no one will throw you the frisbee.

if the goalie fills up the whole goal net, how will you get the ball past him?

there have to be gaps. just enough of a gap between offense and defense for the object to get through. if there weren't, the game would reach some kind of standstill, it wouldn't be fun, everyone would leave and find something better to do.

if there weren't such gaps in my thought processes this afternoon, I would tie this idea to some other idea and it might turn into something awfully symbolic. I'm sure if I spent another hour thinking about it I'd come up with the perfect analogy. then again, we might end up with some horribly trite sort of image, like when John Bytheway compares the purpose of life to a football game or something.

life is not like a game of frisbee.

we play frisbee.

we live life.

{photo taken by the lovely Cassanndre Sager.}

Sisyphus in a sailboat

I have handfuls of half-finished blogposts over here. will I ever finish them?

the ideas always pile up faster than I can sort them out and make something meaningful out of them. I'm really hoping that at least some of these ideas will turn out to be patient ones.

today is Starcustard's anniversary.

dear Starcustard,
please don't be upset with us for not having any of chapter ten ready for the occasion.

dear everyone else,
find me a job. thank you in advance.

some things i brought home

more plane tickets. more airports. more dreaming and flying, eavesdropping and people watching. I can't get enough. what now? how long will I have to wait for my next fix?

my ten days unplugged from the mainland were lovely. Hawaii treated us pretty well; sparing a few scrapes from the lava rock and a few hours of scorching sun, every moment was like a wonderful dream. snorkeling, kayaking, swimming, hiking, shopping, dancing, playing in the sand. it was so good.

I learned all about Captain James Cook, and that the Hawaiian alphabet only has 12 letters, and the names of several tropical flowers. I have a magnificent sunburn. it is currently peeling itself away into what will hopefully remain an alright-looking tan.

this is the cute ukulele I picked up for my cute nephew, who with any luck at all will turn into just the same sort of musical genius his mother is. he will be a born entertainer just as soon as he figures out how to pluck out Mary Had a Little Lamb, right?

this is the sundress I decided I loved. I also acquired a pair of flip flops, a neat pattern of henna across my ankle, and a handful of coral and shells. there is a lot of sand in my suitcase. this beats melted chocolate. still, all the memories are fading already. I find myself sighing anxiously, wishing and longing for more of this beautiful thing called travel.

at least I have lots of photographs. the rest of them, including my extra few days on Oahu, can be seen over here.