An equation is a mathematical statement, in symbols, that two or more things are exactly the same or equivalent.
Sometimes I cannot believe I'm in New York City, nearly 29 years old, walking in four- and five-inch stilletos and surviving. My life has been a mismatched patchwork quilt of people and places.
Sometimes my life doesn't feel like my own. Like the choices I make are those of a character I observe in the third person. As if the equations of my past cannot equal the present. It's definitely no where close to what I had calculated the outcome of my choices to be as a child in Cherry Point or Parris Island or as a preteen in Bermuda or as a teenager in Jacksonville, Camp Lejuene or Asheville. Or as a budding adult in Cullowhee, North Carolina. Corporate New Yorker just doesn't seem like a logical solution. Yet here I am and it all fits.
An identity is an equation that is true regardless of the values of any variables that appear in it. Whether a statement is meant to be an identity or an equation, carrying information about its variables can usually be determined from its context.
I guess when it comes to life, identity is all relative.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Little Black Umbrella