Numbers, Numbers, Numbers

(sorry for typos sorry) Around noon I took a drive to Scottsdale to do emissions testing for my car. It was so bright outside that the sky was washed out, almost white, and the roads were almost white and light was bouncing off the roofs of cars in all directions, enough to make you strain your eyes a bit if you weren’t wearing sunglasses. I was listening to a band called Whishy, which I’d read has a similar sound to another band I like, Subsonic Eye. I can’t help but disagree with this take - while Wishy’s song Planet Popstar is a total earworm, it’s super bright and bubbly, unlike the more relaxed, jangly sound of Subsonic Eye.

Anyway, the drive to the emissions testing place was short and familiar, being that it’s right across the street from my therapist’s office. The last time I did emissions testing was two years ago. I had just moved to Arizona and this Camry was my first car, so I could barely drive. When they told me my car had passed I accidentally put the car in reverse trying to leave. Luckily I noticed as I lightly tapped the gas pedal, and this did not result in any major tragedy.

This go around had no such incidents. I waited in a little booth while a gray haired man pluggeed various wires into my car. It seemed like a job with few complications, maybe something I could do, pick up some weekend shifts for a little spending money. But then I realized the job was probably miserable during those dry summer months. RIght now the weather was idyllic, 80 degrees, no humidity, nice and toasty, you didn’t need a jacket, not even a light one, because it was like the sun was hugging you, although today I wore a cardigan for fashion purposes, but it wasn’t so hot that you’d get all sweaty even if you choose to wear a cardigan or jacket or the like.

The man handed me a paper and said my car had passed. The whole thing cost $16.15. Everything costs money when you’re an adult, I kept thinking.

Afterwards I drove down to Mesa to visit Empower Coffee. I played Madison McFerrin in the car, an R&B artist I’ve been enjoying recently. I like her song Utah, which is a upbeat tune about escaping Utah and a relationship on a downward spiral. The first couple of lyrics have a Phoenix vibe to them:

Somethin’ ‘bout the desert, it must get you heated Seems we can’t escape delirium Caught between the canyons You make your body echo

The main hook of the song goes “Gotta get the fuck up outta Utah / Gotta get back home / But is Brooklyn any better?” a sentiment that I’ve felt echoeing around me in conversations. I had lunch with Maya and her friends the other day. Maya’s been looking to escape the desert and, like Madison, go back to “Brooklyn” (well, actually, New Jersey, which is close enough). While this was discussed at lunch, her friend dropped the bomb that she would be leaving the company and returning to Wisconsin in a few months. “This is the time to do these things,” another one of Maya’s friend’s said, “While we’re young.”

I do love the desert (although every Trump bumper sticker I encounter wears down on me). But it’s true, I’m young, and I never planned on staying here forever (in fact, I never planned on moving here - it just happened), so maybe I ought to figure out an escape plan too. I think these things and then the thoughts evaporate, as a glass of water would on a 110 degree day. I think the ever shining sun and endless palm trees contribute to an endless summer vacation vibe, which makes me feel complacent. I thought I’d be here for a year, maybe two, but now I’m looking at three, and who knows, that might turn into five. Am I just letting time pass me by? Should I leave everything and move to Chicago and get an MFA and experience winter again? Or should I move to Silicon Valley with a bag of clothes, a laptop, and a dream, join an AI startup and hope and pray that we get acquired by Meta so I can retire far far away, maybe a private island in the Pacific, away from labor, away from software engineers, away from everything?

I contemplated my options on the way to Mesa. I’ve gotten to the point in my driving where I can drive and think, which wasn’t possible two years ago when I was too anxious to get on the highway. It’s a good thing I moved here right out of college instead of New York or Chicago, because then I definetly wouldn’t have learned how to drive.

When I reached the cofee shop I realized I left my earbuds at home. I went to the games shop next door hoping to buy some, but they only sold trading cards and figurines. “There’s an audio store a few doors down,” said the cashier. “They might have something.” I went to the audio store but they didn’t have headphones everywhere, but subwoofers and the like. Some sort of audio store for cars. I asked the man at the desk if they had earbuds and they did so I bought them. He asked for basically all my information sans my social security number and I asked why they needed it and he said it’s procedure, so hopefully that’s true and I don’t end up with a mystery mortgage or tax return in my name.

I went back to the coffe shop, got a refresher and got to studying, focusing on the math section of the GRE, which I’m taking in a few weeks. While I was working on practice questions, a man and a woman walked in and sat at a table, the woman with a bright red hijab, the man with no hair at all. I assumed they were a couple on a first date. Where had they met? I made up the story: two star crossed lovers collide on bumble. They’ll stumble through an awkward coffee date and never see each other again. Later, after hearing more of their interactions, I realized the man and woman were certainly just friends. As usual I analyze everything as romance. Lover Girl Syndrome, it flares up at times. I’ve been telling everyone this dumb joke, that since it’s 2026, that it’s Year of 2026oyfriend. It’s been two years since my last relationship, so the timing works out fine. I know boyfriends are considered embarrassing these days, but it’d be pretty helpful to have someone drive me around and do some household chores. My car could really use a wash, for one. Maybe 2026 is the year, maybe not. Maybe a boyfriend would make me less cool? I saw the man and woman leave and forgot all about it.

I wrapped up the practice questions and then it came time for the section quiz. Some of the questions I wasn’t 100% sure of, but in these cases I referred to my notes. By the time I finished the quiz I felt confident in my responses so I submitted my answers: 19/28.

There wasn’t time to review. It was getting dark outside and I was tired of numbers, numbers, numbers. I drove home thinking about my mind’s aversion to numbers. Damnit Erika, get it together! You are an alumnus of the Illinois Mathematics and Science Academy! What would Dr. Condie think? I thought of those days at the Academy, of exams handed back folded down, grade obscured. Long nights crying through problem sets. Numbers, numbers, numbers, always a problem. As I was driving traffic slowed to a halt. I slammed on the brakes and my bag tumbled to the floor. Drive by Incubus came on. I immediately pressed skip. Nobody tells me what to do!

I called my sister later that day, and told her about Maya’s friend and her sudden move. My sister, like any other young person, has contemplated a career change often. “I thought it was brave what she did,” I said. “Maybe you could do something like that, too.” It was a nice dream, for a moment. “You know we have no safety net,” she said. “Who will pay the bills?” And then I realized there would be no sudden job quitting, it was either keep working, or perish, because we were children of immigrants on a tightrope, nobody would be there to catch us if we fell, and I mean strictly monetarily, because our parents would certainly be there in the case of sudden unemployment, but nobody was going to fund some pivot into some wild career, writing or photography or whatever those nepo babies do, no, we had to work, but that didn’t mean we were stuck, everthing needed a plan, and I’m going to take this GRE, and I’m going to conquer numbers, and get this masters, and do anything I want in life, safety net or not.