Just to clarify. I’m sure that most of you think I’m some sort of sad chap who listens sad love songs all the time and cries at sunsets and shit.
I want to make it clear that I do NOT CRY AT SUNSETS AND SHIT.
Once I cried at the sunset and the sunset was like why’re you crying, Lisa? And I was like WTH SUNSET DON’T TALK YOU’RE FREAKING ME OUT. Then it was dark. And I stopped crying. Or maybe I just couldn’t see myself cry anymore.
What I’m trying to say is. There is no shame in crying at sunset. And shit.
“How rarely these few years, as work keeps us aloof,
Or fares, or one thing or another,
Have we had days to spend under our parents’ roof:
Myself, my sister, and my brother.
All five of us will die; to reckon from the past
This flesh and blood is unforgiving.
What’s hard is that just one of us will be the last
To bear it all and go on living.”—Vikram Seth
I’ve mentioned before that numbers mean nothing to me, and boy did I mean it. I can’t tell you my brother’s phone number or multiply single-digit numbers without pause at best or total failure AT USUALLY.
This has never been more evident than when I tried my hand at sudoku.
My wife has a book of this nonsense, and the puzzles increase in difficulty. She skipped the first few “chapters” because they were apparently “intro” puzzles for the uninitiated and orangutans.
I think she bought it when pregnant with my 2-year-old son. To this day, I have not completed one.
I have a feeling that I would be just like the rest of you mathletes if sudoku was based on pictures or something— I learn languages easily, and OWN pattern-recognition tests. But throw numbers in there, and it’s over. Just hand me my Easy-Bake Oven and let me go back to making pretty cupcakes.
Now if there was a sudoku based on TASTES…
It pains me, TO MY CORE, to admit I’ve never been very good at Soduku either. I give up too easily. I’ve convinced myself it’s not just for math nerds-it’s for any kind of nerd that I cannot be categorized as since I would fail this one simple test.
Now give me a logic puzzle, and I will rock the hell out of that mofo.
I bought a Sudoku puzzle book once but couldn’t figure it out. The numbers may as well have been little math teachers taunting me in unison from the printed page. So I called it a witch and burned it and will never open a Sudoku book again.
Trivia, that’s my game. I’ll beat your asses at Trivial Pursuit.
Not when the answer is MOOPS.
Also, I’m pretty badass at Sudoku. You see the difference between me and you guys? Wait. What? No, you racist.