April of 1998, I was seventeen years old. My class was preparing for their senior trip. My relationship with my father was as strained as it could get. Scott had free range to do whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, and did. If I didn"t answer the phone, I had hell to pay. If I didn"t “check in” at certain assigned intervals, I had hell to pay. If I didn"t comply, I was to be punished.
My lessons continued. My math, geometry and algebra were complete. I had worked my way up to proofs and all at once, something clicked. The logic sank in, the numbers, the shapes, the reasoning all made sense. The results carried over into my music. I could see the math in music. I could understand the frequency, and the quality of my work quadrupled. My philosophy, logic, reasoning, and studies expounde
