(no subject)

I used to like mathematics. Up until Year 12, it was my best subject at school. I could add and subtract and prove and test and each step was clear and obvious. I could play simple mindgames and make everything turn out neat and proper. I could turn maths into music and write songs and arrange accompaniments, all by the power of numbers. Verifiable and traceable numbers and their patterns.

There was a kid called Peter in my music class. I used to drive him crazy. He would sit at the piano and learn about sounds and feel and emotions and take a half hour to write a few bars that were technically correct. I'd do it by numbers and take three minutes. Peter grew into a musician. I grew bored with knowing everything* and understanding nothing.

I took two lines of notes today and turned them into a thousand words. It dawned on me that I have no idea where those thousand words came from. I've finally caught up with Peter.

*You understand, I mean this in the purely high school sense of maths class. I was ruler of a very limited world and the whole of that limited world made sense and there was no mystery. Now nothing makes sense, but I have more fun.