The Unfound Variable In Math Is My Brain

Yesterday when the boys came over after school... that sounds funny to me. Before the split between their mother and I, it was "the boys came home", but they live with her, so that's home now. So I wonder is my place still home to them as well, or just their dad's place (even though its the same place they called home for 7 years)?

Anyways, after they came here they whipped out their homework to do. It was a math day. For Corwyn, being in the first grade, things are pretty simple. Low numbers, adding and subtracting, counting money and the whole less than (<) greater than (>) and equal to (=) business. Yesterday, what he had to do was counting up money, and figuring out which coins shown on the page were needed to buy the illustrated picture with a price tag on it. Simple stuff, like I said. However, after going over one he was having issues. Two problems shown themselves to me, the first one I didn't fully understand, and that was his wanting to keep confusing quarters as nickels...but only some of the quarters. I'm not sure if we have solidified in his little brain that the bigger "nickel" is actually a quarter and worth 25 cents every single time, while the little nickel is in fact a nickel and worth a measly 5 cents. The other problem I fully understood. Right as the boys were getting started on their homework, another little boy came by wanting to play. Which of course means to little kids, most especially hyperactive little boys such as mine, that the brain has now been reprogrammed to think almost entirely about going outside to play. Math, even that involving money, is not only not that interesting, but hard to comprehend even in the simplest of circumstances. But with a little help focusing on the homework from good ol Dad, he managed to get through his worksheet for the day, and as soon as it was done he was out the door. He didn't bother to put it in his book bag to take home with him so he'd have it to turn into his teacher the next day, it literally floated slowly down onto the end table next to the couch, landing sometime shortly after he was already a good 25 feet outside with his little buddy. I would say I've been there, but I was the type of kid who ran out of school so fast at the end of the day, that not only did any unfinished schoolwork not get taken home, but I had actually arrived home 3 to 4 minutes prior to the bell ringing that signified the end of the school day. I defy any physics teacher or those guys running CERN to figure out the possibility of how I performed this amazing feat.

And then it was on to reviewing one of the older boy's (JOSH) math test. Now Josh is in the 6th grade, and compared to 1st grade, the difficulty level has exponentially increased. No easy A's counting money. No we're talking about long division, fractions, algebraic equations and all that other fun horseshit...most of which will never again be used beyond the halls of Academia. I did a LOT of math growing up, and I passed those classes, and true to form never used them again. Until yesterday, when I looked over Josh's test. He had gotten a 78% on the test, which I was expected to sign and have him return it to the teacher. SO naturally I looked it over, and we went over the mistakes he had made, and figured out what he had done wrong, which basically boils down to he doesn't really care, so he doesn't focus too hard on it, and I believe he already understands that he isn't going to be using this stuff later in life. Part of me is confused, because he is so good at his science class, which is basically word problem math put into action. But whatever, I guess he's going to have to figure that out on his own sooner or later.

So then we go to the extra credit portion of the test, which has 5 or 6 questions of its own. The first section asked questions in relation to a Venn Diagram. He got some questions right, and a couple wrong...of which I couldn't see how he got any of them wrong, until I noticed that what I thought was a right answer was indeed wrong, due to the Venn diagram being in a box, with an extra figure in the corner. Apparently Dad needs to focus as well. So we got that figured out. Then we had to figure out probability of a coin landing in a circle on a square mat, figuring out the area of each. Much to my dismay, they represented PI as a fraction (22/7) instead of the commonly used, and much easier to use number (3.14) we all learned growing up. So we had to figure out this probability with the fractions. It took a bit of figuring out, but we got the right answer. Or rather I figured it out after showing him how to make serious mistakes first. Because I'm a math idiot.

And then finally it was onto finding variables to solve equations. He answered one, and left the other blank. The one he answered, I saw absolutely no work done on it, but somehow he decided "7" was a good answer. I asked about scratch paper, or calculators, none of which they had been allowed to use. For a boy whose mind is constantly moving from one thing to the next, he believed he had the ability, and that I had the wool pulled over my eyes far enough to believe, that he could solve the problem entirely in his head. Turns out, while Dad did not know how to figure out the problem correctly, he could figure out that 7 was a bad answer with a simple glance, and that there was no way in hell Josh did all that algebra in his head. Math is not Josh's strong suit, which is fine as long as he tries, but staring aimlessly about and deciding the answer to a complicated formula would come to him out of thin air was not going to cut the mustard. So we looked over the one he left blank, and in an attempt to show him that I had retained my school math knowledge (which once we got into the higher math consisted of someone else doing my daily work in exchange for me doing their chemistry lab projects- which the only math I involved there was calculating how much I owed the school for destroying their equipment regularly), I have begun to understand that because I no longer participate in math classes, I have forgotten what little bit I learned.

SO I was subtracting from one side of the equation, adding to the other side, and trying to get the variable figured out, so we could solve the problem...then erasing what I did, adding on one side, adding on the other, ERASE ERASE ERASE, subtracting on one side, subtracting on the other, and AHA, I have found the number. "You see, Josh?" I asked, "If you do it like that, it will work out neatly." Then I plugged the number in, and my equations didn't line up. This elicited a small chuckle at my very apparent algebraic incompetence. I wanted to say something about how its much funnier that he's actually being told how to do the stuff and he doesn't get it, than his dad not knowing how to do something right that he hasn't even contemplated in 15 years or so. But, I left the thought in my head, mostly because if I was going to put him and his laughing at me in their rightful place, I'd probably better have half an idea what the hell I am talking about first. As it turns out, I didn't even begin to have half a clue. So on the notebook paper we were using I left a note to the teacher that she's going to have to send example work home on how to do equations, because Josh's Dad is a moron who can't even help out with much of the 6th grade math without much difficulty. We'll see if she follows through with that, or leave me wondering if her and the other math teachers get together in the teacher lounge laughing hysterically at the fact that an almost 32 year old man can't do 6th grade level math.

Here's the best way to find your friggin variable!!!:

A Bunch of Closet Mookists

This is what a typical Mook looks like. And the little one is one of THEE Mook's legitimate offspring. And by legitimate, I mean, not merely cloned. I could clone myself, maybe messing with the DNA some to accentuate the strengths that I come by naturally and tweaking out the FEW (and I mean very very very few) not so good traits. I have no bad ones, just some that aren't quite up to snuff with my high standards of awesomeness that I have grown accustomed to possessing. However, I don't think the world is ready even for my offspring, never mind an entire army of me running around. For some people I know, I am already one too many of myself for them to handle in anything other than small doses. they say I'm just too weird, but I know the truth. They are all clearly intimidated by the aura of awesomeness that surrounds me where ever I go.

While I have some followers who have chosen to out themselves and list on this blog as followers, and a few friends who follow me outside of the blog world, it has come to my attention that there are a number of closet Mookists out there. You know who you are, because you are reading this.

I'm not sure quite why you're reading this right now, especially since you should be focusing on your work, you know those clients you have to deal with everyday? You really should be concentrated on their needs and on keeping your SLA numbers up. Otherwise my wife will get irritated. Most of you have never seen her truly irritated. Trust me, as awesome as I am, even I don't like to see her really irritated. I irritated the heck out of her once, years ago. It resulted in a lopsided frying pan that almost took my head off, and even by missing and her ensuing diatribe of misdirected anger (I mean really, I am charming enough that even when I mess up on those once in a decade type situations, I should be let off the hook.), I have yet to be able to fully recover. My brain is always bouncing around from thought to..hey look a shiny quarter!..thought. I haven't had a normal sleep schedule in years, my mind is so affected. Sure, she'll tell you I was ADD before she met me, and that my sleep schedule has more to do with my odd work schedule than her chewing me a new one. Truth is, she's wrong. She is lying and she knows it. She's just trying to gloss over a more turbulent past. She would like everyone to assume she has always been as sweet and awesome as she is now. She forgets that I did not bestow the grace of my awesomeness unto her until about 4 years ago. Sometimes success just goes to a person's head.

Anyways, where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Your work, you little closet Mooks! Get to it! You can read this on your own time, right along with your political discussions you hold from time to time.

What's that? Oh you didn't realize I knew all about that? Yeah, see that is why I am full of awesomeness, and you are all just full of awe. I got midget monkeys trained in the art of the ninja scoping out your homes. If you get up to go take a leak at 3am, they see it, and I know about it. Sick huh? It gets better. Yeah, one of each of these ninja monkeys' eyes are bionic and hooked up to a live stream to my computer being recorded.

Its not that enjoy watching you people use the bathroom, I really don't. Its all about recording your habits and activities for the future. You see, I'm convinced as I';m sure you are all convinced as well, of the greater worldwide conspiracy against me by the global elite. They are afraid of me. I am a product of prophecy as my ego was born before me and foretold of my birth. Of course in the process of my birth, the ego had to insert itself inside of me, my head got too big, and mom was forced to C-section me out because I wouldn't be squeezed out so easily. But yes, I appear to be a simple man now, but the real truth of it all is that someday, after I get done procrastinating and stuff (just one of my manly superpowers), I will be the greatest force to be reckoned with on my block. Well, provided that bully I saw over by the swing set earlier doesn't move in on my block.

And that is where you come in. Once that bully makes his move, I'm going to send my ninja monkeys to summon you, my secret unknown army, to harass the bully with your superior numbers. Of course you're gonna have to finish that call your on, and make sure it is properly documented before you close it out, and tell my wife you're going home sick. Either way it will be an Epic battle of Good Vs. Evil. I of course am good, and the bully is evil. You all will probably falter at the moment of truth and try to be the U.N. and level sanctions on him. And then, I will have to get mad, turn green and burst out of my pajama pants and wife beater. And then I will show the bully how my shoulders used to look like plastic action figure molded muscles, before they turned to flabby useless slabs of limp roast beef. Damn You Jimmy Johns! You turned me into what I eat! Damn you all to helllllll! (are any of you old enough to even get the altered movie reference here?)

Anyways, the bully will be distracted with my perfect and scientific like description of how cool I used to be, and then finally my ninja monkeys will catch up to us. They smoke and have developed COPD and lug around oxygen tanks, so they are a little slower than you guys. But, more effective than you, they will just plunder the bully, dip him in a bronzing agent and put him on display at the park. Just to let people know that the park is now considered under the jurisdiction of Mookified security forces. Meanwhile, you useless people, having disgraced the message of Mookism, will be sent back to work. But I will have called my wife and told her why she should write you all up for lying about why you left 'sick'.

At the end of the day, I will just be this awesome. And you will be grumbling cubicle dwellers, who speak under their breath about how REALLY MESSED UP the Mind of Mookie can really get. Just make sure you do it on your break. I wouldn't want you to get into too much trouble with the boss. Afterall, I have to let her come back home at the end of the day, and I don't want her to take out her issues with you all on me.

I'm Fat AND a Stupid Monkey

Buggy stayed home from school the other day as he was not feeling well. After work, my wife comes home, and in the process of conversation somehow the word short is brought up. I don't remember what exactly was said, but it seemed to be a shot from my wife at both Buggy and myself. So I looked the kid dead in the eye as he was in his mother's arms and said, "you hear that, Bug, you're short!"

Without even missing a beat he shoots right back, very matter-of-factly, "You're fat." The boy has a very dry sense of humor, and of course once a thought hits his brain, it generally comes right out his mouth. And to be honest, as dry and easily as it came out of his mouth, I'm not sure if this was his idea of a joke, or just a debative form of us shooting derogatory facts at each other. Either way, I was temporarily shut up, and of course his mother couldn't help herself and busted out laughing hysterically. Apparently she is amused by the fact that my boys are smart enough and bold enough to go toe-to-toe with their father. And apparently having missed school due to a stomach ache was enough for him to be feeling much better.

Generally I have a talent for sarcasm and a biting wit that usually keeps people in check around me. I have in the past used this very effectively against my wife. Yes, I am aware that this is not the best way to go about building a relationship, but it appears she is getting the last laugh via our offspring. It appears that the same gene that has allowed me to fake my way to a superior position has been passed on. I'm going to have to maintain my alliance with the Colonel to keep these kids in check and from usurping my power over the Mookified compound.

So yes, I am officially fat for sure now.

Last weekend the boys and I are wrestling around, like we do. Josh has once again wildly thrust himself in the unenviable position of being chicken-winged by me. Sooner or later we are going to have to get him to learn to focus. Too much of this power ranger/mutant ninja turtle flying around business has done in his ability to fight me effectively. Well, while I'm holding him at bay, Bug climbs onto the couch and prepares to challenge me while I have one arm occupied with holding his brother down. But he makes the mistake of leaving his arms at his side, laughing and announcing that he is about to make the leap from the couch and come choke me out. So I give him a little fatherly open-handed love tap on the cheek.

Incredulous he looks at me and exclaims, "You just slapped me like a stupid monkey!" and continues laughing his head off as he prepares to remount his attack. It took me two days to realize that I slap him like a stupid monkey does, in his mind. I thought I had slapped him, as he is a stupid monkey. But nooooo, turns out not only am I fat, I am also a stupid monkey. And this is currently his phrase of the week I guess. I called home early this morning to say hello to the boys before they left for school. After Buggy handed the phone to Josh, I hear "OW. You slapped me like a stupid monkey!" come over the phone from Buggy's mouth. I have a feeling "Stupid monkey" will be a key part of his vocabulary until he finds something new to entertain himself.

Yesterday I hit the RedBox and rented the movie Law-Abiding Citizen. It was an excellent movie. One of the Stars is played by actor Gerard Butler, the same guy who played King Leonidas in the hit movie 300. There is a scene in both of these movies where you end up seeing Butler naked as a jaybird from behind, showing off his butt. Well, I got up to get ready for work last night and my wife is watching the movie. Just as I walk in, that scene is on the TV. I made casual mention that I think Gerard Butler gets paid a good chunk of change specifically for showing off his rear end. And so my wife replies, a little too quickly I might add, "Yeah, and its a really nice butt!"

Nothing else to say to me, just enough words to let me know that Gerard Butler has a better ass than mine.

So I guess the moral of this story is that I need to start working out to sculpt my butt to look more like Butler's and maybe get a more enthusiastic response to its form; and to trim down the obvious fatness I have going on. And then, when time and money permits, I need either plastic surgery to correct my monkey-like physical features, or mental health treatment to get out of a monkey-like mindset.

Either way, I have a lot of work ahead of me!