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Posts Tagged ‘finals’

For your reading pleasure this afternoon, I give you the polished poem “Why I Can’t Find the Derivative” as a sample of the portfolio I am currently banging my head against revising.

I know it’s a stereotype, but it is a stereotype for a reason — most writers or artists in general have a vendetta or just plain hatred of math. Is it because it deals with logic and reason rather than imagination and creativity? Or is there something else to it? While I do have a definitive distaste for math, I seriously respect those who can do math, especially the more ‘creative’ math with all of the proofing and the calculating and the words I don’t know…
But, without further adieu, the poem:

 Why I Can’t Find the Derivative
Because my mind is not crossed into numerical maps,
but painted into murals on the canvas of my synapses.

My eyes see colors and textures,
unable to decipher the volumes and depths.
I sit, frustrated, as I pour hours into meaningless problems –
each passing equation siphons another minute from my life.

I erase the paper until it tears,
destroying the object of my frustration.

Dreams are coated in language and acryllics,
resisting the binary of the arithmetic realm.
I look out into the world I long for,
sitting in the left cobwebbed corner of math class.

The window teases me,
locking me in but hinting escape.

The teacher calls on me and numerical
vomit spews from my mouth.
I get looks of disappointment, sadness –
shame encompasses me.

Factorial silence as letters are forced
to transform into numbers,
their functions no longer to
create but to clinically state.

I am illiterate in this continent of logic
and reason. The numerical maps only lead me here,
to pain. I can only pray for exile,
when at last I can follow the painting of my imagination.

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It’s Sunday?

Not necessarily.

Let us pretend I can teleport to California. Ha-ha! It is now Saturday! Albeit very late…but Saturday nonetheless!

Due to time constraints, frivolity, Finals, and having to pack a roomful of items into a tiny cubicle/trunk, I have had little time to focus on creating a dazzling post for the blog. I do hope my Muse and my time are given more freely and frequently once the summer begins.

These sound like lame and mundane excuses — and they sort of are. They are also very true.

The truth can be mundane and lame.

But isn’t there a pinch of beauty in that?

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