I know they are just numbers. They happen to be 20, 30, 40, 50, nice numbers to recite and divide. Somehow or other I have been and am those numbers.
I was not good at math in school. Those numbers had some hard and fast rules to them I couldn't abide. Words had rules that I could get, and even feel comfortable enough to play with.
Basic math was okay. I loved the word "algebra" and welcomed the mixing of numbers and letters in the beginning, but I never got truly comfortable. Geometry frustrated me. Why take those beautiful shapes and capture and flatten them with rigid formulas? Why did they need proof? Calculus? What the hell? The only time I ever felt successful in calculus was at the dentist just this week when she said, "Very little build up of calculus, keep up the good work."
Whatever made me think I could be a medical technologist which was my first major in my freshman year of college at Boston State? It wasn't the math, it was the lab coats. I could see myself sporting that length of fabric as I moved about the lab, pouring liquids from test tubes to beakers, and then bending over a microscope. I thought it a more practical choice then my first three choices: 1) Dance; 2) English; and 3) Private detective. But, I only made it through one semester because the reality of chemistry and probability and statistics made mincemeat of my picture. The next semester I majored in English and minored in Dance. My father was thrilled. Ahem. My father was a research chemist.That didn't stick either, I left academia to work for the next two years in a series of temp jobs. Boston State disappeared as well. Then I returned to college and undertook what resembled a sampling of several state schools and majors. I ended up with a Bachelors in English, and it was true, we weren't married. I would have played the field forever.
Basically I have been a private detective, all these years. I am my own client, of course, and while the solve rate may be questionable, I am dependable and look good in a hat.
I am 50 and a half.