1 + 1 = 2 ... much

Whilst in school there wasn’t much any study that I didn't comprehend nor appreciate. I could see the rational ends to the means and I applied myself. All except one. Math. I loathed math. I had complete and utter disdain for math. The practical study of numbers and the labyrinth of applications left me colder than cold. Basic math, sure, that one made sense to me. But it wasn’t until I got into algebra and geometry that my brain refused to accept the abstracts they demanded I grasp.
Now, here I am in the middle of my life, and one day, not sure why, but it hit me... everything I love with all my soul is high end math. Music. Photography. ...Fuck, everything is math!
I was laying on my float this afternoon, soaking up some sun, when out of the corner of my eye I saw an M.C. Escher painting on my forearm. The sun was glinting off the water, a film which barely covered my skin, and the light filtering through my rose colored glasses produced an orderly set of triangular fractals that spread across my arm like an exotic, shimmering coat. Very pleasing to the eye, but I wasn’t fooled by what it really was. It’s true identity? Math.
I’m no John Nash by any stretch of the imagination. But more and more, I’ve grown to appreciate the intricacies and the actual beauty that comprises math.
Having studied the photographic works of Henri Cartier Breeson, it was a real eye opener lining up the diverse moving elements in whatever situation you find yourself, as he did, ones that strike your fancy, twisting and turning the lens, turning upside down if need be, until the “shot” appears. And making the decision to never crop, ala Breeson, made me come to appreciate the reasoning behind the shot, all the geometric lines and angles lining up to make for a soothing pattern that begged for capture. Stanley Kubrick, too, was a master of geometry. Every scene, every shot, every placement of actor and prop, every shade and color of lighting was calculated and designed to produce endorphins of considerable measure
And I could go on and on about music, especially since computers have been integrated into the making of it. But even before that binary evolution, music has always been about numbers, numbers that when put into a particular circumference makes for an emotional response in a human being. Who would, even for a second, without any inside of knowledge of making music, think this to be so? The idea on the surface sounds ludicrous at best. But there have been various studies that leave no room for doubt, demonstrating by scientific formula certain mathematical equations are immediately recognizable and soothing to the human experience. To further the point, there was even a television commercial a while back that had Sting and his band in a rehearsal room, talking music, but referring to it in its numerical state. This commercial wasn’t a load of shite. No. That commercial accurately captured how it is we speak when we truly break it down into a common nomenclature of the most finite particles of sound and composition.
Math? X - Y = Z squared? Personally I shit it. Others don’t. They’ve captured the essence, the very core of numerals and built this world upon math’s shoulders. But in my life, I’ve finally come to appreciate the beauty which is math. My respect has been born anew. Big fucking props.
Now if I could just get someone to balance my existence, then maybe I could disappear into a blinding set of rose colored, isoceles fractals, never to be seen again. A rainbow up my ass.