Please excuse our little whimsical one, she won’t be attending advanced mathematics because she suffers from deadly allergies. Specifically to the subject of advanced mathematics and all things related to that. This is, of course, most unfortunate for her to have to suffer with this, but we are hoping she will find another means to support herself when she is older.
Sincerely Whimsy’s mother.
Okay so my parents never actually wrote a note like that, but not for my lack of trying. As a matter of fact the more I pushed against numbers, there is nothing sexy about numbers, the more my parents decided I needed numbers in my life. Yes it’s true friends my parents believed in torturing me, especially as they could get away with this idea that it was for my own good.
Oh how my parents used that guide, for my own good. It was used for mathematics and liver alike. They assured me I would thank them for this later on in life. I haven’t, not yet. I have actually developed a stronger aversion to the stuff.
Why is that? Well part of me never outgrew rebelling against my parents in some way. Another part of it is that I’ve found a means to keep my dealings with these and other yucky things at a bare minimum. For example I avoid liver as if it is the plague itself. I’m just don’t eat the stuff, I don’t even look at it.
As for mathematics, I can’t totally avoid it, but my career and hobbies are far far away from the stuff. I only touch the minimally because well it’s somewhat icky to me.
This isn’t a girl thing and it isn’t that I am not capable of doing advanced mathematics or all the other stuff that comes with it, I just really really really do not like it. Not one bit. So I just avoid it as much as possible.
Think of it as a truce of sorts, mathematics gives me a wide space and I do he same in return. We do not really or it each other because words are more my things.
I’ve managed my life just fine this way and plan to continue down this path. I’m an adult, free to make my own choices and be responsible for the choices I do make. There are no requirements for me to be excused from things, I make my own excuses. Why? Because it’s good for me! Yes I’m a parent’s dream child. Provided that the dream is a snarky, smart mouth that will so end time twisting your words to my advantage. If that’s not your dream then I’m pretty close to a nightmare I guess! :)