I have always disliked math or any of its associates. Had it
been a person waiting for a Facebook friend request approval, I would have
clicked the Not Now button in an instant. Heck, Facebook is even more
complicated than math as of this writing. I still recall how I have
struggled to pass every math subject that I had back in high school. I felt
like an odd apple surrounded by smarty-pants oranges chewing numbers for
breakfast. That is probably the reason that steered my career path towards the categorically
right-brain-dominated field of fashion. But who am I fooling? Math is
everywhere. Numbers are too clingy for my liking. From the measuring tape
around my neck to the fine lines on the French Curve that I caress, I am indeed
outnumbered by numbers.
But just when I thought that the quest to “Find X” was the
ultimate predicament, here comes another challenge of becoming acquainted with
it beyond my lingua franca. Flashes of a 3-year-old girl displaying her
counting “talent” in Hokkien on a ‘90’s noontime television show suddenly
haunted me. The rhythmic cadence of every syllable she uttered became some sort
of a childhood verse that got stuck in my head. Only now the situation calls
for Mandarin. Toting a spiral notebook and some dogged spirit, I sneaked inside
the workroom to ask Vinia, our drafter, for help.
“一 yī, 二 èr, 三 sān, 四 sì…”
“Say that again, is it suh… or sih…?”, I interrupted her with
the hope that my forefinger charade of pointing up and then down actually helped
her note the difference in my voice’s fluctuating intonations. I don’t want to
murder the language that has seen the rise of magnates around the globe.
But then I wonder, does language matter when dealing with
numbers? They are after all considered as a language on its own. They are the
jargon of the self-effacing geeks and even the lingo of the hyped
extra-terrestrials, as some groups posit. Some Most women consciously
mess around with their weight, body measurements and age as the need arises.
Mastery of mathematical Subtraction is the key to survival. While most men
coalesce in their glorified conviction that size does matter. Thus, paving the
way to miscalculated “shoe size” and padded egos. They are addicted to
Addition.
“五 wǔ, 六 lìu, 七 qī …”
No matter how far I run, I couldn’t get myself to hide from
it. Blame it on Toto, Singapore’s local lottery. Every number crossed out
further lures me into adoring its contours along with the possibility of
winning the muti-zeroed sum. Working away from home taught me that cash is
king. Seizing its monarchy is a plausible strategy. Where does lottery fit in?
Well, it is the court jester.
“八 bā, 九 jiǔ, 十 shí.”
“Thanks Vinia! How about counting from 11 till 20?”
Tomorrow it will be my turn to teach her a few English words
as part of the bargain. By now my jasmine tea has turned cold and bitter. The
client with a 4 o’clock appointment has not yet turned up. I regret peering
thru the workroom’s narrow window, noticing how the traipsing pedestrians and
the stop-and-go rhythm of the cars on the sweltering pavement has made me all
too groggy.
My eyes are heavy. I feel like dozing off to Neverland. And
my mind is counting backwards in English.
3… 2… 1…
(zzzzzzzzzzz)
