Actually, we constructed the rationals out of the integers on Friday. Today, we proved that every finite integral domain is a field, aka every element has a multiplicative inverse. A and B are isomorphic as sets if there exists a function f: A-> B if f is bijective. The best part of today's lesson was the tangent one of the counselors showed us - determining pi using the Archimedes method. This philospher math physics dude was very often wrong, including his hypothesis concerning the five senses and elements or something, bu his estimation of pi using 96-gons averaged out to 3.1485. Too bad he was killed before he could do better. What we really did today was prove the existence and uniqueness of the Kauffman Bracket. I'll tell you about the presentation tomorrow if it isn't too boring.
I woke to the buzzof 93.4 FM singing across my room. I rolled out of my unused blankets towards my mirror. It turns out that I always look better on rainy mornings when the sunlight doesn't reach my reflection and when I'm half hidden in the gloom of travelling downtown for another day of finding ways not to fall asleep in class (chewing through peppermint Orbit gum today. Unsuccessful from 11:30-11:55.). I thought about what I'd be eating today and spent more time than I should have wondering what combination of clothes best suited our strange and fickle weather. I checked Facebook and stuffed calcium gummies down my throat. Christine ran in the morning... I'm so proud of her. Lol.
The food stand called Harry's at the train station sold apple fritters and banana nut muffins for $1.75. I wondered when I would have the courage to buy one for myself. I know its a bad deal, but I've always had a secret attraction to sparkly sugar and soft sweet breads. As for the people, well they must not be as noteworthy as the food. Everyone mostly ignored each other in hopes that they would be left alone as well. It was raining, but even the slap and smack of the raindrops was subdued by the hum of silent, waiting passengers. Such a weary silence was well-appreciated although quickly broken by the squeaking and clattering ruckus of the express train. I sat quietly next to a dude blasting crazy hard rock into his ears, wondering if my fat thumbs would ever be sufficient to take notes of the morning on my smart phone's memo pad. Apparently, they have succeeded.
The trains and buses are almost never packed, but they're always full. The lines are about thirty people long per car, 50 to 100 long for the bus. The city that is the four blocks around Union Station bustles like a city should. Policemen yell when buses approach. Escalators are jammed and stairs are less occupied by the leaner and more energetic few. A guy my age was reading Slaughterhouse Five, which looked suspiciously familiar to the one I recently purchased (Day 2). Mothers chatted (in Chinese. ha.). People slept. We were all bus passengers to the University of Chicago - how wild could our travelling habits be?
I do miss my usual summer days of wallowing in bowls of watermelon and scrolling through years of vlogbrothers, painting on whims and falafelling selectively, but writing helps. It helps me forget what I'm missing, and it helps me remember that amidst a lot of sadness and hurt, there is the complicated organism of love and its expression to keep me upright, still happy to wake up and reluctant to fall asleep.
