Taking a page from Erik Bosse, I have tried to give this post an interesting title. Otherwise left to choose something, I just would have called this post “Lost.” I’m really not much good at titles (that’s what editors are for), so this is good practice.

I spent the afternoon and most of the evening in the math lab. Losing my shit and wanting to give up on Cal II is a daily/weekly occurrence, and it happened today when I realized that the question that I was asking my math prof about an arc length problem was actually an arithmetic question. Frankly, addition of fractions. I’m taking a calculus class and still asking arithmetic questions. My kind-hearted math prof, who is a prince among teachers as well as a prince among men, never, ever condescends. (Patrick, in the unlikely event that you ever read this, you are my hero. If I keep doing things right, on some lucky day I will love my job as much as you do and be half as suited for it as you are for yours. If I seem standoffish it is because I feel foolish in the face of one who is so much better at these things than I. And because I simply cannot bear to be a pest.)

But I studied for hours and learned little. I was tired and overextended; my brain was shutting down. When I tell my prof that I am tired, or that I have no sense of direction, I hope that he does not think that I am making excuses for myself. To me, it goes without saying that not only am I tired/exhausted/overworked/in desperate need of a vacation, I am also pretty crappy at higher math. I don’t mention that because there are some things that just go without saying…

But perhaps I could try to trust myself, or try to start trusting myself more, as I do higher math. I think I need to start trusting myself to dissect the problem, even with grueling slowness. For there is no one else I can rely on, come test time. At some point there will only be me.

I tend to look at a problem, find myself stumped right on the face of it or soon after, and ask for help. I try hard alone first, but don’t trust myself at any stage of the problem and frequently ask for a leg up when maybe if I tried even harder I could climb a step higher by myself.

But slowly, slowly I seal the gaps in my knowledge, uncover my latest tricks for screwing myself up. I am my own worst enemy. I confuse differentiation and integration (LOL my friend Megan calls this doing “diffegration.”) I tend to do both badly. I use the solutions manual as a crutch. I copy signs and terms wrong. I do so much sloppily, poorly, incorrectly. Being overworked, anxious, frightened, and overwhelmed helps nothing save the headaches that find me every weekend, lately. I wonder if a good old-fashioned fun and restful weekend followed by a week off from work might help me a lot.

I dream vividly of math almost every night. I recently dreamed that my friend Sharon (math whiz) was throwing integrals at me, and I had to mentally evaluate them in the air or they would hit me.

Tonight I got lost on the way home. I was tired, listening to a good song, not paying attention. I took a turn too early and ended up in nearby city that I don’t know my way around. I wandered up and down the same stretch of interstate, trying different exits, totally unsure of how to get back where I came from, much less get home. I did the same stretch of I-26 four times. As I have done so many times before, I eventually just gave up and started taking any old exit in an area I vaguely recognized, hoping I’d eventually find my way back to the familiar.

On the way home in my own hometown, I got lost for 40 minutes. This is what having no sense of direction is like.

It struck me as a perfect metaphor for my higher-math journey. Though I spend hours every day wandering around in higher math, I never do learn my way. Without help, I am almost hopelessly lost with a single wrong turn. Once I get lost I wander in the dark, hoping to recognize something familiar, becoming more lost and more anxious with every wrong turn.

In the real world, I always find my way home. In math it’s not always that way. I never leave my chair, but I get so lost. And so much lostness has made me lose a little bit of myself. College really can be an encounter with all of one’s weaknesses. Which is character-building, I suppose, but a real fucking drag.

Perhaps I’m too hard on myself. I noticed that I feel smarter and make fewer mistakes with some tutors. Ron and Howe and Peter make me feel like there is hope, like I can cut through the thicket, find the river, go left at the hollow oak and be home before dark. Another tutor who once lost patience with me now makes me feel pitiable and in need of hand-holding. Or rather, I make myself feel that way around him, feel guilt for needing so much help. Like anyone, I don’t like to feel weak or needy. I have trouble finding a balance between working a problem alone (an almost masochistic process), and asking for help (which robs me of part of the learning process and also lessens my ability to connect the steps within a problem).

OK, that’s enough of my foolish fears. Tonight I also listened to beautiful music, felt cold autumn air burn the back of my neck, saw the belt of venus from a second-story window.

I try so hard. I work so hard. I wish this all came easier than it does.

Look at that. That’s the beautiful world that goes on in spite of everything that’s ever gone wrong.