My passage through the "Rigorous Approach to Limits" chapter is going very slowly. I can sort of figure out what the book is trying to say. Something about an arbitrary interval of possible outputs of a function, that will always be smaller than the interval of outputs dictated by another arbitrary quantity at some distance from the limit. What I think it's trying to say is, that there is always some place (marked by a number) closer to the limit, as long as you don't actually get to the limit.

I don't "get" proofs yet, even though I've now been doing mathematics for six years. I'm not talking about geometric proofs, which I enjoy. These are mathematical proofs with no pictures or congruent triangles. They seem to hinge on one quantity being proven equal to another quantity and substituted for it. I know this is really simple math, but somehow I haven't gotten the knack yet. The calculus proofs, and the methods I've learned to find instantaneous velocity and limits, all seem like cranking clockwork to me. Maybe that's why the Enlightenment natural philosophers, fueled by Leibniz' and Newton's calculus, believed in a clockwork universe.

Today is September 7, which marks the sixth anniversary of my epiphany at Fermilab. Once I had set myself on that path to math and physics, I knew that someday, I would actually learn calculus. I delayed it for at least one of those years while I spent time learning first year classical mechanics. Now I am well into it. Could I have looked ahead at my life from my time in college, and said, for instance, in 1974, "Do you know that in 2006 you will be studying calculus and not classics?" I would laugh and totally disbelieve it. But after September 7, 2000 (a very different anniversary than the one coming up in four days) I could see my calculus destiny over the luminous horizon of Fermilab's beamline.

Something was born on that day, a math and science entity coexisting with the artist person. I am not particularly "talented" in mathematics or science, not like those brilliant youths who teach themselves calculus in a few weeks. As I continue to say, what I have going for me is perseverance and desire. However, when it comes to the Rigorous Approach, I think I am going to ponder it for only a few more pages. I consulted with my Friendly Scientists and they said that I didn't need the rigorous part right now. Since it is in a book and not a short-lived natural phenomenon (like a supernova or a volcanic eruption), I can put it away and come back to it when I need to. At this point I would like to move on to derivatives, as well as watch Mount Etna pour lava from its craters.

September 7 is also the birthday of Andrei, the husband of my co-worker Kim. He's only in his early twenties, lucky boy, and already an engineer. Happy birthday, Andrei!

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