“First day.” That’s what he said the slogan for the year would be. “First day.” Like every day started out as something new. As if we always have a chance to decide we’re going to do it different. “First day.” Because all that really matters is what we’re grappling with right now. Now. Be here. Present. Plan, yes. Make goals, yes. Reach, yes, always. But stay grounded. Remind yourself that today is always the beginning of something. “First day.” Each day individually. Pay attention. Breathe.
I ran this morning. In the rain. Not the snow, not the freezing, but in the rain. The true Seattle winter returns and we all remember that we are web-footed and moss-covered. We know what to do with this. This we can do.
In the time between my math class and work I sat down and drank a cup of coffee. A few minutes of solitude. Of rest. Of nothing. How easy it is to forget to let those moments happen to you. Always plugging in, turning on, looking up. Forgetting that sometimes we should just sit. Just be. Remember our hearts beating. Still. Still.
I told Nadine that if math stays interesting I’d like to get my Bachelor’s in it. She told me that in the five years she’s known me math is the only thing that’s managed to keep my interest.
Today I didn’t work. I held my nephew instead. All baby sweet and squirming.
My roommate’s mother has been visiting us from Iran for the last month. Today she went home, but she left our fridge full.
I am so glad that I found the perfect graph paper notebooks in bulk on Amazon sometime a couple years ago. Spiral bound with perforated edges. That off-white color that makes you feel like a real mathematician. The perfect cardboard backing for taking notes while sitting sideways and writing on your knee. They are fabulous and I buy them by the case.
In math today I asked my professor to go over a question. I found myself tremendously pleased that I am at the point in my life where I will actually ask for help in front of other people when I need it. I always want to just know things and not need assistance. And if I do need help I don’t want to ask for it in front of a group full of people I assume are smarter than me. But I did it today and that is awesome.
Big shout-out to Justin from my pre-calculus class who, after I asked that question, leaned back in his chair, smiled, and said, “Thanks for asking that. I was lost, too.” He didn’t have to say anything. Didn’t have to make me feel any less alone. But he took that little moment to say, “Hey, me, too.” People should do that more. I should do that more. Today, he did.