Mathematics of Love

It is finals week. I am a math major. I can't stop thinking about numbers.

Seriously, though. The other night I was eating pretzels, and I pulled one out of the bag to find that it was broken in the shape of a curvy "E." I thought to myself, "That looks like the symbol for 'a member of the set of...' when determining domain and range of a function." What is this madness? I can't even escape it when I go for a snack!

There have been such an abundance of bombarding math analogies lately that I just had to share them with you all. Will you understand all of them? I hope so. The following three are my favorites.

 - In calculus right now, we are talking about Riemann sums (which is used to find the area under the curve of a function on a graph---in case you wanted to know). In order to calculate the Riemann sum, you must first find delta x (which means "the change in x"). The other day, one of my math major friends told me a story about her and her first-time boyfriend. (For storytelling purposes, let's say that his name is Bryce and her name is Belinda). Belinda said to me, "The other night, Bryce kissed me, and my mind went off on this crazy tangent. I thought, 'Oh my goodness, how did we get to this point?' Then I thought, 'Well, to figure that out I would have to find delta x which is equal to b minus a all over n. But to figure that out, I would need to know a. I would also need to know b. Oh crap, I would have to know n, too! And there are no numbers in this equation, so it it impossible to solve it!'" (Her mind must have been going about a million miles an hour). Then she said, "I finally told myself, 'Belinda! A boy likes you. A boy is kissing you. A boy who likes you is kissing you. STOP THINKING ABOUT MATH!'" If that isn't a math major problem, I don't know what is.

 - One of my friends has recently scored a date with a guy she has been crushing on for quite some time. Because of conflicting schedules and other circumstances, she is not able to have a date with him until sometime in January. Anyway, she has been fretting about this ordeal quite a bit lately and she asked me the other night, "Libbi, what do you think is going to happen? I mean, what if the date goes badly? On the other hand, what if it goes well?!" I said to her, "You never know what will happen. I mean, I personally feel good about the whole thing. It's probably going to be like an exponential function... you know, it starts off kind of slow, but then things just take off!" She laughed out loud and said, "Oh, Libbi. I love you. I hope you're right."

 - I saved the best story for last. Recently I have started coming up with a song about integration that matches the tune of "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. Upon singing this song and coming up with other math "catch phrases" I have been rubbing off my quirkiness on my wonderful roommate. I said to her the other day, "One day you will come up with a math analogy, and it will be the best day of my life." Well, friends, today was that day. In order to understand the analogy, you need to have a little background information....
I started hanging out with this guy a while back, and we really like each other. There is a lot of pressure from our friends to make the relationship "official"... a common phrase he and I hear is "please define the relationship." This afternoon, I walked into my room and my roommate says to me, "Libbi. You and [insert boy's name here] just need to find the domain and range of your relationship." It made my whole day. My whole week. My whole month. The fact that she came up with the analogy and it is totally relevant and it makes sense is enough to make me sleep with a smile on my face for the rest of my life. :-D

The Name Game

The other day I was thinking about life and my views... and my name.

My name is Elizabeth Jenney. Jenny (without the extra 'e') is the term for a female donkey.
Donkeys are the "mascot" (if you will) of the Democratic Party.
Therefore, my middle name is (indirectly) "Democrat."

My brother's name is David Jonathan.
Specifically, if you look at 1 Samuel 18:1-4 and 2 Samuel 1:26, you will see that David and Jonathan were best friends. They were almost like brothers.
Come to think of it, they were kind of the "original bromance."
If you put the pieces together, my brother's name implies that he is his own best friend :)

Less-Than-One-Second Makeover

Turn that frown upside down! You never know who could be falling in love with your smile.

I’m dying here.

There is a person I know who does not really smile at anything. She did not even smile at my rendition of reading aloud The Duckling Gets a Cookie?! by Mo Willems. She does not smile at the lame jokes on the backs of the milk cartons at lunch. (Which is understandable, but most people at least give a “fake” laugh, you know?). The only time I remember her smiling recently is when she pointed out a flaw in someone else and laughed about it. It kills me because she is someone with whom I am very close.

I guess that what I’m trying to say is that a smile is something that should not be overlooked. I personally do not see the point in dwelling on the frustrating parts of this life. People are fallen. We make mistakes. We are imperfect. Why should I spend my negative energy on little incidents that do not really matter? If I did that all the time, I would be exhausted when a real trial presented itself. Smile at silly mistakes. Chuckle at the lame joke that a small child tells you. Just… please. Do not laugh at the expense of another person.

Take part in the “less-than-one-second makeover.” It does not take very long to put a smile on your face. However, it can be something that, when genuine, can attract the hearts of many people. It even has the power to change a life. Smiles make you approachable. Smiles make you beautiful.

Grin. Smile. Laugh. Express tenderness through your facial expressions.

It will make your life so much better. :)

My beautiful?

For everyone who is unaware: I care very much about accurate grammar. For example, if I find something grammatically incorrect, I will refrain from writing it. I do break some rules for stylistic purposes, but that is not the point I'm trying to make here. Knowing the essentials is what I am referring to in this instance.

Last weekend, I was in a clothing store helping my brother pick out a new pair of jeans. (Apparently he is still unable to do that himself...) ;) Anyway, as I was waiting for him to emerge from the dressing room, I noticed a flaw on the nearby counter top that sent my level of sanity below the depths of the earth. (In case you were wondering, that's way past the point of insanity). 

On an economy-sized bottle of hand-sanitizer, there read a sticky note: "Smile :) Your beautiful!" It was more than I could bear.

Not more than a few inches away from this terrorizing mistake was there an innocent pen sitting on the table. 

I surreptitiously looked around me. My breathing quickened and I felt like my heart was going to pound through my chest. If you would like me to take this to an extreme level of hyperbolic narration, fine. There were beads of sweat forming on my forehead. 

The dressing room attendant stepped away from the counter momentarily, and my chance had arrived. I picked up the pen and added an apostrophe and a letter 'e'. 

Did anyone see me? No one is looking. No one is rolling their eyes. Hee hee. I guess if I would have gotten caught, then I could have said, "I'm just making you look like you rock at accomplishing standard grammar expectations." But I think I'm okay.

Sanity level: normal. The sign now accurately reads, "Smile :) You're beautiful!" ...but you're smart, too because you know the difference between "you're" and "your".

Multiple Guess Paranoia

Someday, when I am a teacher, I want to make a multiple choice test where all the answers are C. If I am feeling particularly devious the day that I make the test, maybe one answer on the whole thing will be A. Hello, paranoia!

It would make my day if a teacher did that to our class now.

Confessions of a City Girl

Good morning, all! Here is an excerpt from an email that I sent to my English teacher (a farm dweller) earlier this year. Enjoy!

I have a confession to make: I am totally freaked out by chickens. 

I think that this whole ordeal started when I was about three years old and my great-grandma took me into the chicken coop to "collect" (pardon my city-girl speech if "collect" is not the right word) the eggs. My great-grandma grew up on a farm in the 1920s and was an extremely tough woman even though, at the time of this story, she was over 80 years old. She didn't think it was a big deal, but at the time, seeing all the fluttery wings and cackling screeches of the chickens put a fear in me that has not vanished yet. 

The neighbors across the street from me have eight chickens of their own. Sometimes when they go out of town, they ask me to take care of their dogs, cats, fish, and chickens. Their 8 chickens. One of the tasks they ask me to do is collect the eggs from their eight chickens. Have I mentioned that I am just a little freaked out by these animals?

The first night that I went to take care of the chickens, I had finally worked up the courage to go over and collect the eggs. I walked around to the backyard, opened the chicken shed, and shined the light inside of it. Sixteen beady little eyes stared right back at me. Eight heads tilted to the side. Eight hens mumbled at my arrival. A few of them faked flight and acted like they were going to come out and terrorize me. At this point, I hadn't even stepped inside the door yet, but the previous actions of the chickens were enough to make me squeal and hustle back across the street to my house to get my mother's help. My whole family laughed at me when I told them my long-hidden secret: I am afraid of chickens. My dad was the only one compassionate enough to understand that Great-Grandma was probably the reason.

I promise that a connection to literature is coming. In that story, "A Very Special Pet," there is a scene when the mom is chasing the chicken around the room. The very actions of that chicken are why I am afraid of them. Chickens are awkward, often flustered creatures that give me the heeby-jeebies beyond all else. They are not cuddly like cats. They are not personable like dogs. They are just cold, violent creatures that can make me fidget nervously whenever I am in their presence. I do not like them at all.

I hope that you found this entertaining even in the slightest degree. I figured that maybe you would enjoy this story because you have read "A Very Special Pet" and probably have been around chickens a lot without thinking much of it.

Gettin' Pretty Serious

I came across a new meme today. It's called "Gettin' Pretty Serious". It is a picture of Kip from the movie Napoleon Dynamite who assumes simple actions to be romantic gestures. Allow me to show you a sample that I found from Quick Meme (CAUTION: this site contains some R-rated material)

It's kind of cute, right? I mean, the action of the barista probably meant nothing. However, to Kip, this was a big deal. I can laugh about this as much as I want, but quite honestly, I have a tendency to jump to conclusions as well.

Maybe it's just a "girl thing," but I find myself lusting over trite things like Kip does in this meme. Don't be overly disgusted, please. I do not sit around thinking sexual thoughts about the guy who courteously holds the door for me at the grocery store. However, I do realize that I subconsciously run through the events of the life that he and I could have had together: drinking coffee together, our wedding day, future family vacations, and then the last one: sitting on a porch swing together in our old age watching the neighborhood children and drinking sweetened iced tea. Lame, I know, but these things happen.

How might I avoid these thoughts? Well, I could stop watching TV, listening to music, reading books, and stay home from school. Here's the thing, though: love will never die. Sure, even if romantic love is not there for me, the good news is that somewhere in the world, someone is loved. The part that is occasionally depressing is that I don't have access to this kind of love right now. I can discreetly mope about this truth, but it will really do me no favors. The fact of the matter is, I will probably be a little nervous when someone likes me that way.

To conclude this post and admit the truth, I am not mature enough for a relationship at this point. Sure, all of my friends tell me that I act like I'm forty years old sometimes, but that doesn't mean that I'm ready to be in a relationship. My parents have shown me, by example, what true love looks like. I am blessed because of this, but I have no experience of being with a significant other. Whenever I got/get close to this point, I got/get scared and said/say, "Let's just be friends. I'm still in high school. I'm not ready for this stuff." Someday, I will hopefully have the courage and grace to look at romantic love for what it truly is and not be afraid to move forward.

For now, I will stop fantasizing about the guy who took a second glance (on the rare occasion that: 1 - it actually happens, and 2 - I actually notice).

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

If you have never watched "The Big Bang Theory" on CBS, you probably won't understand this t-shirt. The following excerpt is taken from Season Two, Episode Eight, "The Lizard Spock Expansion":

Raj Koothrappali: [Attempting to determine which Sci-fi show to watch the two heroes expand the rock-paper-scissors game] I'll tell you what. How about we go rock-paper-scissors? 
Sheldon Cooper: Ooh, I don't think so. Anecdotal evidence suggests that in the game of rock-paper-scissors, players familiar with each other will tie 75 to 80% of the time due to the limited number of outcomes. I suggest rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock. 
Raj Koothrappali: What? 
Sheldon Cooper: It's very simple. Scissors cuts paper. Paper covers rock. Rock crushes lizard. Lizard poisons Spock. Spock smashes scissors. Scissors decapitates lizard. Lizard eats paper. Paper disproves Spock. Spock vaporizes rock. And as it always has, rock crushes scissors. 

Makes me smile. If you want to find this t-shirt, please go to the Cafe Press store. 

Let's Get Excited About... Nothing

A wise man named Paulo Coelho once said, “It’s the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary; only wise men are able to understand them.” There is so much truth in this statement.

The nearest Wal-mart to my home town is a little over 50 miles away. I can imagine how shocking this is for those of you who might live in a metropolitan area. Anyway, in the particular city I was in, two Wal-marts are accessible. One has the choice of the yucky, scary one on the north side, or the nice brand new one that was recently constructed across town. Today, my friends and I wisely chose the latter of the two locations.

As we pull into the parking lot, I have a grand epiphany… NEW CARTS! I was so thrilled with this idea that I proceeded to tell my friends in an excited manner, “Guys! Guess what?! We are going to the new Wal-mart, so I bet that they have new shopping carts! I sure hope that they have new shopping carts, because I just love how it feels to drive one. Like, I remember when they put the new Target in and…..” Bla-de-bla, yappety-yap. On I went until I realized that everyone was staring at me like I was nuts. Quite honestly, I don’t blame them.

But really, if you have any care for the sanity of the world, you have probably complained about Wal-mart shopping carts at least once in your life. I spewed out absurd, joyous rambling that made everyone laugh to themselves. To me, this was a big deal. To them, I was a total freak. <-- Story of my life. But really, you can understand my enthusiasm... right?

Let me say for the record, it’s after an event like this when one realizes who his or her true friends really are.

Asymptotic High Fives

I absolutely adore this t-shirt. Props to you if you can understand it! If not, leave your inquiries in the comments and I will explain it to you :)

You can purchase this t-shirt through Mental Floss

Prepositions

I nabbed this from Grammarly's Facebook page--just giving credit where it is due. :) This is something about which I am very paranoid. <---See that beautiful inverted syntax to avoid the mistake of ending a sentence with a preposition? (Grammar Nazi problems...)

Tea-rouble, Trouble, Trouble

Lately, I am finding myself with a persistent prediliction for tea. I have truly grown to appreciate the Bigelow “Sweet Dreams” herbal mixture with “relaxing mint and chamomile.” In my humble opinion, it’s basically the greatest thing since sliced bread. This morning, I found myself yearning for a cup of this intoxicating herbal beverage. The idea of this drink accompanying me in my government class was liberating at a time when I felt constricted by my bed covers. 

Being the semi-morning person that I am, I scampered (in a 6:30 A.M. manner) up the stairs to start the tea kettle. Then I opened up the cupboard to find, in horror, that the box of Bigelow Sweet Dreams tea was missing. In seemingly pointless desperation, I reached up in the cupboard where the box used to be. And you guessed it….

There was one last bag of mint and chamomile tea left. Yes. This day was off to a good start.

My shopping endeavors to follow this experience were… less fortunate. When Mom and I got to the Wal-mart, I made a bee-line to the tea section. I found a box of Celestial Raspberry herbal tea that I love, but was not seeing "Sweet Dreams" anywhere. Eventually, I found the tag for my favorite tea located underneath an empty spot on the shelf. Wal-mart was out of Bigelow Sweet Dreams tea. 

“Noooooooooo!” I literally put my head on tthe price sticker, said the aforementioned phrase, and made fake sobbing sounds. To a bystander, I’m sure this looked absolutely ridiculous. Fortunately, soon after this experience, I found an herbal tea multi-pack. Of the eighteen bags of tea, one third was Bigelow Sweet Dreams tea.

Upon telling this story to my supervisor (who also adores tea), she laughed and told me that I would be “one of those Wal-mart stories.” She proceeded to enact a Wal-mart storyteller, “For real, though. There was this girl in the tea aisle. She was totally crying. Weird, right?” I find her observation less than enlightening, but it does paint a jocose image in one's mind. 

Moral of the story: never run out of herbal tea. It could make you one of the "crazy people" in Wal-mart. 

Purchase Bigelow Sweet Dreams Tea (in great multitudes)

Purchase Celestial Raspberry Tea (in bulk)