My calculus text winks maliciously at me.
It does. I go dizzy with all the du’s and dx’s. The integrands in the sideline constantly boo me as I tell myself I am one page closer to the end. But I know the truth. It never really ends. Not when you’re majoring in Engineering. There is no escape. And maybe I could’ve done it differently. I could’ve majored in Philosophy or Theology or English or Art. All of which I would have thrown myself into completely. Dying in complete bliss. Maybe even harmony, dare I say peace. But no. I had to go to my nemesis. I had to call him up and say, “You know how you are always hanging around, waiting to make me miserable? Well. Not anymore. I will make even you shudder at all things mathematical and technical. I will triumph and wrestle with the constant thought of failure, of taking the other road, the simpler one. You will not prevail. I am now the one that lurks on your street corner and spies on you from behind the soup aisle. I sit behind you on the bus, cloaked by my newspaper and thrift store trench coat. I fear you no longer. You fear me.” And then I hang up the phone. I know I sounded more confident than I really feel, but I don’t think about it too long. I know I have to live it. Because if I don’t, the nightmares I have about the grizzly bears squared attacking me will come true. I refuse to die by mauling. It’s grotesque and unheroic. It’s not even villainous. And I am my own story’s hero.
