I take comfort in

Red satin pjs.

Pizza on the way.

Gilmore Girls reruns.

Getting to stay up past 10pm, for once, because I have nothing to do until 6pm tomorrow night.

My daughter. Because she smiled when we woke up together on her last visit, hugged me, laughed and said, “I like you.”

Turning 30 this Friday, looking in the mirror, giddy knowing that I can pull off a solid 22. It’s like I haven’t aged a day, and strangely, it’s like I look younger every day.

Magic. I take comfort in magic. I take comfort in magic, and a heart full of wit and love.

I feel like dancing,

but it seems these days that I’m doing everything but. 

I semi yelled at someone yesterday.  In public.  And it wasn’t really yelling, it was more like “telling someone off,” (loudly,) and it was for an incredibly justified reason: A lab tech at school, someone in charge of making sure the lab is secure, took it upon himself to post weird links on my Facebook wall, read my e-mail, and send me messages from myself within my personal inbox because I’d left a browser open.  (He didn’t realize that I live five minutes away from school and was on a break and on my way back to the studio anyway, so, yup, caught him red-handed.)

Yes, an incredibly justified reason.  Still, it’s been a long time since I’ve raised my voice at anyone [not related to me.]  It’s been a ridiculously long time.  And for someone who used to frequently yell at people [not related to me,] it felt both incredibly satisfying yet incredibly unsettling, and now I’m wondering if I’m holding too much in.  If I’m trying so hard not to be the type of person who yells at anyone (but my mother) that I’m pushing a hard lid over situations that should upset me and letting them seemingly slide, when all the while, I’m silently simmering.

I still feel like dancing. I wonder if I can dance away a boiling point.

Hodie mundo vivit.

Aperti sunt oculi mei. Universum cantat. Audio carmina.

Liberum est cor meum, et ego morior.

Moriatur anima mea. Haec mors terribilis, et decora facie.

Totum vocat. Antiqui redeunt.

Tempus est.

I want the world to fall around about me simply because I don’t want to live in it.  I try, every day, to desperately convince myself that if the world falls around about me that it would be better for everyone, that we could all start anew, that creation would spring forth from chaos, that some kind of armageddon would give us a second chance.

And though all of the above may be true, I want the world to fall around about me primarily because I don’t want to live in it.  Because I’m wired not to live in this world, because it doesn’t suit me.

But then again, I don’t think it really suits any of us.

(Summer Reading)

There are two facts about the distribution of prime numbers of which I hope to convince you so overwhelmingly that they will be permanently engraved in your hearts. The first is that, despite their simple definition and role as the building blocks of the natural numbers, the prime numbers grow like weeds among the natural numbers, seeming to obey no other law than that of chance, and nobody can predict where the next one will sprout. The second fact is even more astonishing, for it states just the opposite: that the prime numbers exhibit stunning regularity, that there are laws governing their behavior, and that they obey these laws with almost military precision.

Don Zagier

(via Wikipedia)

the gravity/gravity method.

The chaos argument is a philosophical argument. It argues that determinism is an idealistic mathematical construction whose mapping onto reality is untestable in the real world, and that this is an essential precondition for the existence of free will.

The chaos argument asserts that given any description of position and momentum (of all particles in the universe) approaching completeness, long-term prediction is impossible, because variances from completeness multiply over even short periods of time.

Due to the uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics, we as observers can never have access to a complete description and therefore can never close the debate on free will versus determinism.

Also, the electrodynamics of the human brain are chaotic in nature; accordingly there is also no way to prove, in the event that free will does exist in the universe, whether the human has none.

One common objection to drawing conclusions about free will from the chaos argument is that it seems unclear how quantum uncertainty, whether reducible or irreducible, could provide a basis for any kind of free will. The philosopher J. J. C. Smart observed, “Indeterminism does not confer freedom on us: I would feel that my freedom was impaired if I thought that a quantum mechanical trigger in my brain might cause me to leap into the garden and eat a slug”.

(via Wikipedia)

Chaos (/ˈkeɪ.ɒs/;^[1] Greek: χάος ) in Greek mythology and cosmology referred to a gap or abyss at the beginning of the world, or more generally the initial, formless state of the universe^[2] (the antithetical, or possibly complementary, concept was cosmos).

Later uses of the term by philosophers varied over time. In modern English, the word is used in classical studies with the original meaning; in mathematics and science to refer to a very specific kind of unpredictability; and informally to mean a state of confusion.^[3] In philosophy, and in popular culture, the word can occur with all three meanings.

(via Wikipedia)