so what?
Leave the phenomenal world and enter the sublime . . .
about me
ELSA
Real name: Haha, you should know, if you don't, you don't know me well enough and you have stumbled on a stranger's blog...okok, its Tay Hu iling
Age: Born in 87!
School: SCGS, that will forever remain MY school, MY alma mater. NJC is just a temporary holding place, I will get out of it soon. (Newsflash: I have gotten out of NJC. Now in SMU)
CCA: Softball! WOOHOO! My favourite game . . .
Hobbies: Go online, reading books, sports . . and sulking here. . .daydreaming about hot babes
Fave artists: Madonna, Coldplay, Alizee, Bjork, U2
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Monday, October 25, 2010
My thoughts are not truths.
And that is an important distinction.
The mathematician is perplexed. The recipe book has been followed to a tee. All the measurements and the calculations, right down to the 10th decimal. The forecast should portend the future. But it did not.
And he does not understand. Why, an every single level. When his' was superior, on every single level. Yet the formula and concoction still never works. It fails, time and time again. The experiments tire him. With every one, more questions and hypothesi, and randomisations and variations, they cloud his judgement and mar his findings. Yet he cannot discover the error, the one wrong step in the formula, which blew everything to bits. To not.
Maybe its systematic. Maybe it's environmental factors. Maybe this ingredient or that, wasn't good enough. Again. Maybe the problem...was the mathematician all along.
Maybe he is the error.
Maybe it's not a bad idea to put the lab to rest, finally.
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Because you were made for other things than this.
elsa | 10:41 PM
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