(Written sometime mid-February 2013)
I used to love glancing at my phone, and interpreting the time in some serendipitious manner.
11:11 was perhaps the coolest, but 23:23 was also great. 22:22 was second best, and then came many others.
16:32, 12:36, 06:18 were nice. 16:28 gave me two of my favorite numbers, then 06:28 gave me two perfects.
04:20 reminded me of Jerol, 05:12 and 02:56, sometimes even 01:28 and 01:04 gave me powers of 2. 03:43 was seven cubed, 06:32 was strangerly concordant. 12:48, 11:33, in fact any x:(n*x) would do, but preferably with x in the double digits.
Catching noon exactly was nice to see, and midnight too, then all o'clocks were just ok. Each of those "timely glances" fed me a feeling of specialness: "my subconscious knows exactly what time it is, and it's showing it to me". Or a sign from the universe, or a hint that I might be in a dream. I remember no such dream occurrence now, though. Or any correlation between those timely glances and fortunate events. They kept me content, though. Or perhaps only bloated with silent pride.
In either case, I keep the suspicion that I glanced at my phone far too often, and I registered only the timely glances in my brain, with the other 70-95% of glances lost in the emotionless memory cells of my brain, along with all those polite conversations I used to deplore, my mother's repetitive advice, and all the images from my routine peripheral vision.
Still, I prided myself on my constant search for numerical patterns, soon turned habit, often raised to obsession. 234467 would quickly register as (x)(2x-1), addresses with powers of two in them easily struck a chord, and bills that added up to $11.11 tickled my fancy. When I learned about the strange habit of tipping, and after I grudgingly adopted it, I decided to put my twist into it. Bills of $9.89, I tipped $1.22 to reach the golden $11.11, and reaching palindromes like $13.31 was also satisfying. $13.37 sometimes to spell out the "leet" méme that I don't yet understand.
And shapes. This started sometime in high school - I escaped someone's conversation, due to either boredom or social anxiety, to draw lines and shapes on my classmates' faces. What does his eyes-and-nose triangle look like? Ah, there it is. Swish, swish, in my mind, and my mind was then silent. Then the cheeks to the mouth, and to the nose, making quite the 3-D quadrilateral. Ears, top of head, shoulders - all of the potential pulcrums to pull mental strings from, to make any shape I wanted to.
I don't know if at any point it was enjoyable, but it soon became like a nicotine addiction, invariably tied to any face-to-face conversation.
Ah, girls. Cute since the beginning.
I used to love glancing at my phone, and interpreting the time in some serendipitious manner.
11:11 was perhaps the coolest, but 23:23 was also great. 22:22 was second best, and then came many others.
16:32, 12:36, 06:18 were nice. 16:28 gave me two of my favorite numbers, then 06:28 gave me two perfects.
04:20 reminded me of Jerol, 05:12 and 02:56, sometimes even 01:28 and 01:04 gave me powers of 2. 03:43 was seven cubed, 06:32 was strangerly concordant. 12:48, 11:33, in fact any x:(n*x) would do, but preferably with x in the double digits.
Catching noon exactly was nice to see, and midnight too, then all o'clocks were just ok. Each of those "timely glances" fed me a feeling of specialness: "my subconscious knows exactly what time it is, and it's showing it to me". Or a sign from the universe, or a hint that I might be in a dream. I remember no such dream occurrence now, though. Or any correlation between those timely glances and fortunate events. They kept me content, though. Or perhaps only bloated with silent pride.
In either case, I keep the suspicion that I glanced at my phone far too often, and I registered only the timely glances in my brain, with the other 70-95% of glances lost in the emotionless memory cells of my brain, along with all those polite conversations I used to deplore, my mother's repetitive advice, and all the images from my routine peripheral vision.
Still, I prided myself on my constant search for numerical patterns, soon turned habit, often raised to obsession. 234467 would quickly register as (x)(2x-1), addresses with powers of two in them easily struck a chord, and bills that added up to $11.11 tickled my fancy. When I learned about the strange habit of tipping, and after I grudgingly adopted it, I decided to put my twist into it. Bills of $9.89, I tipped $1.22 to reach the golden $11.11, and reaching palindromes like $13.31 was also satisfying. $13.37 sometimes to spell out the "leet" méme that I don't yet understand.
And shapes. This started sometime in high school - I escaped someone's conversation, due to either boredom or social anxiety, to draw lines and shapes on my classmates' faces. What does his eyes-and-nose triangle look like? Ah, there it is. Swish, swish, in my mind, and my mind was then silent. Then the cheeks to the mouth, and to the nose, making quite the 3-D quadrilateral. Ears, top of head, shoulders - all of the potential pulcrums to pull mental strings from, to make any shape I wanted to.
I don't know if at any point it was enjoyable, but it soon became like a nicotine addiction, invariably tied to any face-to-face conversation.
Ah, girls. Cute since the beginning.
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