[personal profile] lastwordy
For those of you who don't know, I am really bad at math. Don't bother trying to teach me math tips and tricks -- this is not a cry for help. It's a simple statement of fact: Dawn is bad at math. Always has been.

It is also important to mention that I took algebra -- both I and II -- a total of four times (yes, there was summer school involved), plus one semester of "College Math" and another semester of "College Algebra." So that's six different maths classes, all between the ages of 14 and 23.** This will be important in a moment.

I am convinced that there is only enough room in my head for a finite number of things. While this number is undoubtedly a very large one, it is still finite, which means that sometimes old information has to make way for new information. That's a fine enough system -- out with the old, in with the new -- but it is an imperfect one, because there seems to be no logic as to what information will be kept and what will be pushed aside.

About an hour ago, a commercial came on the television. The commercial had music in it -- commercial music, NOT a "real" song. But the music must have resembled the notes of a "real" song. How do I know this, you might ask? (I'll give you a second to ask. Take your time. I'll file my nails.)
Glad you asked! I know this because somehow I discovered myself singing quietly the following words: "Long ago and not so far away, I fell in love with you, before the second show. Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear. But you're not really here. It's just the radio. Don't you remember you told me you loved me, baby? Said you'd be coming back this way again, baby. Baby baby baby baby oh baby, I love you. I really do." Don't recognize it? That's The Carpenters, "Superstar." A song I have not heard in its entirety for about 28 years. The synapses in my brain worked something like this, I imagine:

Synapse 1: Hmm. Those notes sound familiar. Wonder what they could be?

Synapse 2: Well, according to this file I have here from 1975, it sounds an awful lot like that Carpenter's song we used to listen to when we were four years old.

S1: Hey, that was a real pretty song. Let's sing it.

S2: Sure, we can do that. We've kept the words to that song fresh on file. For a while, that pesky Pythagorean theorem tried to worm its way in here, but I showed it the door.

S1: And a good thing you did. I mean, c'mon -- what's more important here, algebraic formulary or the words to an old 70s love song?

S2: Well, duh -- CARPENTERS RULE!

Ask me what the Pythagorean Theorem is. Go ahead. If pressed, I can probably recall it but as to what is is used for or how, I have no earthly idea.

Six algebra classes -- one of them less than 10 years ago, mind you.

A record I haven't heard in almost 30 years. By a band I haven't even thought about in years and years.

And you people wonder why I can't remember your birthdays?

Fucking Carpenters.

**For those who are unaware, my degree is in English Literature; when I graduated, I had a 3.9 overall and a 4.0 in my major. So, as you can see, it IS just maths. ;)

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