Ode to Pythagoras

She said she quit math when she learned the numbers and points they were plotting didn't actually exist. She pulled her teacher aside. "Um," she whispered, "these numbers that we're learning about. They're not actual numbers." "Right," said her teacher, all matter of fact. She quit math class then and there. In the middle of the semester.

Last night I had a nightmare. About math class, which doesn't officially start for nine more days. I can't exactly quit a math class that doesn't actually exist. At least not yet.

While anxiety about equations and imaginary numbers has set in, and while discussions with fellow numerical novices make things seem grim, the comprehensible moments come, too. The moments when I remember the eventual application of all the upcoming math and physics and my overall goal. How ever far off it may seem, I know that plot point exists in reality. In these coherent moments, I recall the words of Robert Frost: The best way out is always through.

So here's to tackling math for the sake of art. And to the art in architecture. Here's to saving historic facades. Here's to the old, and to the new and to bridging the gap in between.