Oh Dear, I Am in a Rut!

I am republishing a vintage post because it captures exactly what I am feeling today. I have been struggling with accounting issues all week and I just wanted to bring this old post back. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? It was written exactly one year ago today. Spooky.

Adrift in the Accountancy

I'm not opposed to math, in general. At first contact, I tend to recoil, but once I sit myself down and start digging into the numbers, I find I begin to enjoy myself. I remember that lesson I taught myself in order to remove the gravitas from studying math: It's just like learning a foreign language. If you memorize the basics, do your homework and perservere, you'll be fine.

But getting my math brain cells to work is like getting an ancient trireme to change directions. It happens, eventually, but I actually can feel myself aging as I row through the accountancy. I am slow, but deliberate. I get the job done, but with neither the speed nor the panache of your modern day frigate.

When I near an obstacle, I have to command my brain cells to stop or turn well in advance. And then I climb up from the galley and take a look out at the horizon. If I lose sight of shore; I'm lost. If I catch sight of the obstacle, I almost never recognize it for what it is. It appears that the gods are toying with me. They have placed this wonder in front of me with in order to dazzle and confuse. But because I have the plodding drive of Sisyphus and similar motivations, I'm able keep navigating through the iceburgs and the reefs.

However, my work and Sisyphus' work are never done. And that is the great joke on us by the gods.

Zeus: "You think you're funny, do you? Initiating the unitiated?"

Hera: "Let's see how you like doing math!"::maniacal laughter::

But Sisyphus and I have hope. Some day, we will complete our unwanted task, or, better yet, pass it off to some chump...uh...I mean someone else who will have those elusive skills of looking out at the accountancy and making sense of it all. Would that some Achilles of Math would come by and tap me on the shoulder and say, "You've done enough; allow me to take the helm." I would gladly step aside as the sun breaks through the clouds, the rain stops, and the pain in my head evaporates.

"Come on, Sisyphus," I'd say, "Let's go get a brew and take a swing from the language tree; at least there I'll be able to keep up with the monkeys."