We swung by a little hipster neighborhood gathering the other night. Amidst the sea of tattoos and messenger bags I saw this book:
The title alone made me sweat doofy uncool bullets. Poser alert. In high school my pre-calculus teacher sent home a note dissuading my parents from enrolling me in real calculus. In college I was advised to take “Discreet Mathematics” to fulfill my one math requirement. It was comforting to meet a few other people who also counted with their fingers.
I could squeeze into a pair of skinny jeans and throw on sunglasses covering all but my chin, but I still won’t be able to tell you why 3x + 1 = 10.