I was recently having a debate about numbers and math. I was arguing that numbers were discovered, like gravity, rather than invented, like units of measurement. The counter argument was that if humans weren’t around to think about numbers, they wouldn’t exist.

This goes back to the old riddle about the tree falling in the forest. If intelligent minds didn’t exist to think about numbers, would the concepts of numbers and quantities exist? Not the names of the numbers- “one”, “two”, “three”, etc. Would two holes in the ground still be two holes in the ground, or would the idea of “two” be totally irrelevant?

I am completely mystified by numbers and mathematics. They are the one thing that is totally true and absolute in this universe (besides change, death, and taxes), no matter who is thinking about it. Aliens from another galaxy on the other side of the universe still think that if you take four things and split them into two even groups, you will have two things in each group. 2 + 2 will always equal 4. 3 + 9 will always equal 12. Human thinkers, long ago, didn’t sit down and decide this, the discovered it. It was realized.

As an anology, think about music. Music wasn’t invented. To invent something, one has to create something that didn’t exist before. Ben Franklin didn’t invent electricity, he discovered it. When people first realized that certain sounds are pleasing when played in sequence, they discovered what we today call music. They then went on to invent different instruments that created different sounds in different ways, which could be manipulated to produce the desired sound of the user.  But even if they weren’t there to discover it, those sounds would still sound the same way.

In the same way, our great-great-grandthinkers did the same thing with mathematics. They figured out that two oranges and two oranges are four oranges, or that four oranges are also two oranges and two oranges. Even the lowest forms of life can still understand that 3 units of food are more than 2 units of food. They may not understand what 3 or 2 is, but they still tap into that idea. It’s universal.

I find mathematics beautiful because they are so unchanging. When you sit down and play with them, be it with blocks, abacus, pencil, or calculator, you are tapping into a great force in the universe, something so far above and beyond yourself that it makes you feel so incredibly insignificant, yet immensely powerful.

In other news, we all might cease existing on Friday. Numbers still will, though.

Everything I write in this tumblr is automatically updated on my website (hi website!) due to a handy dandy piece of modern technology called “Internet Magic”. Through the power of CSS coding (which stands for Above My Head), everything written here goes there, which is great. Makes it very easy for me. However, there is one problem. When I post here, my post is dated with the date I wrote it on. But when it goes over to my website, it just becomes part of a numeric list, which looks dumb. I’d like to fix it, but once again, I’m using Above My Head coding, so I am in the dark.

So, if you’re reading this, and you happen to not be someone who only exists in my head and also knows how to solve my problem, please, help me out.

seancurry1@gmail.com

Want to talk about coincidences?  This all happened within 24 hours last week:

1. Lunchtime (1:00ish?):  In conversation, Evan brought up Van Halen (surprise, surprise), specifically the song “Panama”.
2. When I got home (5:30-6): I was cruising the interwebs, blogs specifically.  On Jeff Rubin’s blog, I saw the following post:

   jeffrubinjeffrubin:

   From Wikipedia…

   [Van Halen’s Panama] was written about a car. According to David Lee Roth this was because critics accused him of writing about nothing more than partying, sex, and cars but Roth realized that he had yet to write a song about cars.

3. On the way to Lisa’s later that evening (8:00): Van Halen’s “Panama” played on the radio.  Twice.  Just kidding, once.

Before all of this, I didn’t even know Van Halen had written a song called “Panama”.  FUNNY!

A friend recently told me that I have no fear or apathy.

Damn, thanks.

At long last, I’m home.  I’M HOME.  It was a long, grueling, packing process, but it’s finally done and I’m fully moved in.  I’m up in the attic now.  Originally, I thought it would suck, but my mom really came through and fixed the place up nice.  It used to be full of boxes and christmas items and old crap we didn’t want to throw away, but she made this place pretty darn live-able.  I guess she threw all the crap out.  This is actually awesome.  I have a whole floor to myself.  I can walk around naked, sleep whenever I want, walk around naked, and walk around without clothes on. 

In other news, I started my summer job today.  Evan’s worked on the trail crew at Palisades Interstate Park for the past two summers, and he got me a job there this summer (he’s technically my boss).  It’s great, really great.  Today we buried a dead dog that washed up on the beach.  As it was my first day, I was the one who had to put the dog in a big plastic trash bag.  OK, that part wasn’t really really great.  But the outside all day, exercising, BSing with the crew, being outside, and outside parts are all great.  This is perfect as a final hourly-pay job before I consign myself to a life of nine to five cubicle misery.  

I’m very excited for this summer.  I’ve got my degree, a job, career prospects, and a place to live rent-free, and I can reconnect with friends and family.  I have time, money, and a wonderful girlfriend.  My life is finally on a track I want it to be on.
 

Cue earth-shattering disaster that ruins everything brought on by my own actions, most likely meant to improve my own or someone else’s life.