There's nothing quite like getting a difficult math problem. When that can't be done, getting one that you've been having trouble with is pretty damn good too.

The solution came to me where they all do: In the bathroom. (Edison would have invented the incandescent light bulb about 980 attempts earlier if he had indoor plumbing.) I had just hopped in the shower. Maybe that's what prompted me to a new path; blood flows twenty percent faster while standing. Then I decided to do a straight-forward proof by contridiction. (So does that mean a direct reversal of path, then ending up in the business end of a catapult, lofing my way to Q.E.D.?) The answer was almost embarassingly clear and simple. I did not draft the proof before placing it on my homework paper.

This weekend is the Whiskeytown mathematical campout. My presence is expected, as is Megan's, Ambra's and some dude named Jules. (I hope Jules isn't walking the earth, personifying God's great vegeneance and furious anger.) Three of the professors will be there as well: Lisa, Kemble and Curtis.

School is already busy this term, and that's just the way I like it. Curtis' intro to analysis class was the one that had be formerly vexing proof. Dusty's geometry class has me giving up in ways I haven't felt since 311. Capstone is ramped up like a mofo. The bulk of the work is this term. Grading for Kemble will not be trivial. Of course, there's tutoring outside of all of that, and I haven't heard from Kari Smith in over a month (She hasn't heard from me either).

It's way past my bed time.