My brain won’t stop talking. Or is it my mind? I think there’s a difference. It won’t be a leap of faith to say I know there’s a difference. At one point I was aware of what that difference was. In the points since that point, I have lost interest. I have also lost my train of thought and must focus on nothing for two seconds to remember.
Right. My mind/brain refuses to stop talking. I am physically exhausted. Mentally ready to go to sleep also. But there’s a voice having a conversation with itself as I try to sleep. It is my voice the way I want my voice to be. It has my tone, but the vocabulary is bereft of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’. The voice in my head is John Bercow’s, except I’ve never said ‘Ordahh’. The British House of Commons is the best reality show on tv. I am relieved to report Keeping Up with the Kardashians has been dethroned. Digression upon digression; I’m on a roll.
I’m typing at 2:39am, hoping I’ll lull myself into sleep. Ten words from now I’ll realise this exercise is only stimulating the darned organ.
For my avid readers, a diverse set consisting of me and a few iterations of me, I apologise. I meant for this blog to be a more or less daily affair. James, I believe, is engaged in worthier tasks; my mother also. So it is up to me. I will argue with myself. It’ll be a good old-fashioned argumentative essay. Five points for, and five against, and woe betide anyone who dare stray.
Before I forget about this little fruitless venture(again), I’ll give myself something to ponder right now.
Megxit. My mother loves Diana. She hates the Queen. She’s very invested and wants to hear about these things from me; even though she’s read every single article on the topic available on Instagram.
I shall attempt to perform mediocrely. 

Abstract Math makes no sense, not because I don't get it, but because it makes no sense.

It's 11:58pm. My eyes are drifting shut. There are twenty tabs open on Safari. One of them is a random pick from Ben1994's Group Theory playlist. I really appreciate Ben1994, but I don't appreciate his use of multiple coloured highlighters. And I say this as someone who throws a hissy fit when her pencils aren't sharpened to perfect points. But I digress. I don't, however, apologise for digressing because that is the entire point of this blog. For me to digress and not have to worry about it, because the only people reading this will be my friend James, and my mother(who will have stopped reading by now, but will have sent me an encouraging text saying she's proud of me for trying), and I don't particularly care about wasting their time. Back to Ben1994. The highlighters bother me, because he takes so darn long contemplating which one to use. He is very fussy. But then, he's British.
I don't think I hate abstract math. I hate the way I've been 'taught' abstract math, but I'm fairly certain I don't hate it. Fairly certain? Glass half-full? I have stopped making sense. I shall stop writing now and leave the no-sense-making to Ben1994, I'm sure he'll do as good a job as I am.

But YES James, my very dear friend, shall be joining me in this little world, and we shall attempt to make our tongues sharper by arguing out here in the open about whatever tickles our fancy. James has not yet replied to my overly excited pitch for this blog. But in the event that she refuses, I will pretend to be James and argue with myself. I believe I'm up to the task.