Not everybody wants to fly. Some people want to fly for fame. Some for fortune. Few fly because they truly want to. Most of them fail.
[...]
In short, I won't go out of my way to fly because the ground is nice and steady, the flowers are much closer to where I am now, and there's no chance of ever falling. If I end up in the air in the end, then that's what happens. It's not because I made wax wings to fly.
I try because I pathologically have to. I'm almost incapable of giving up, and I refuse to relegate myself to a normal life--because I know I can do so much better. You see, I've fallen and been disappointed in myself over and over again. I've flunked tests because I waded in over my head, or because I didn't
really know how to study. I've been so stressed that I wanted to die, just to get away from the academic pressure. I've nearly lost everything I ever loved.
But, at the same time, every time I pick myself up after crashing I spend a little bit of time walking and then get an itching to try just one more time. It's not that the ground isn't nice. It's not that I go "let's be famous!" I'm definitely not going "let's be rich," because seriously... math major, and it's already been proven that I'm quite good at programming. It's that, whenever I'm walking along the ground, I say "I could be trying to fly"--and when I don't have something difficult to sink my teeth into, I get antsy and depressed.
I'm like a hamster, you see.It's probably why I won this stupid Continental Math League thing two years in a row (It would've been three, but that first year I messed up two problems.)
Anyone else ever do that thing?
I'm a pattern freak, I suppose. I like 'em. Who doesn't?
Oh, the Camel. There's a handful of math-related things at which I am extremely poor: word-problems, physics, and statistics. They've never made any sense--I have a finely-honed instinct when it comes to pure mathematics and proof, but that general area drives me mad.
In other words, my school district did the Camel but never sent a team's scores--and even so, I kind of sucked at it.
I see some number patterns (used to have squares up to 17 memorized by accident; reasonably good at figuring out sequences and so on), but mostly I'm good at breaking proofs and writing them. It's a different sort of pattern than you get with numbers--sort of like the difference between literary analysis and linguistics.
... As far as my parents go, my father can remember almost anything, and my mother is another art person (with dyslexia). I mostly see my abilities as a throwback to my grandfather, who was a math teacher and, had he had the opportunities, could have probably become a mathematician.