This will be brief: No pretty pictures. No videos. No links. No poetry.
I am in the throes of the derivatives of inverse functions and logarithms. I liken it to my old brain being shoved through some space-time membrane into the future only to wind up in the 17th century. Or, Where the Hell Am I Going and Haven't I Been Here Before? It hurts. It really hurts. Brain cells are committing suicide. Thoughts come to the door and don't ring the bell.
This morning (not for the first time) I realized that I am my mother. And that I have often treated Husband No. 1 like my mother treated me. I owe him and this marriage an apology.
And with no further commercial interruption we return to our regularly scheduled farce, "Taking Calculus I at 57 Years of Age: An Effing Disaster."
Ciao, bella.
I am in the throes of the derivatives of inverse functions and logarithms. I liken it to my old brain being shoved through some space-time membrane into the future only to wind up in the 17th century. Or, Where the Hell Am I Going and Haven't I Been Here Before? It hurts. It really hurts. Brain cells are committing suicide. Thoughts come to the door and don't ring the bell.
This morning (not for the first time) I realized that I am my mother. And that I have often treated Husband No. 1 like my mother treated me. I owe him and this marriage an apology.
And with no further commercial interruption we return to our regularly scheduled farce, "Taking Calculus I at 57 Years of Age: An Effing Disaster."
Ciao, bella.
No comments:
Post a Comment