A go board game with white and black round pieces on a grid.

With pen and paper, I remember my dad building a house. Like magic.

Sitting in the living room, around a round table, at my grandmas house. He draws the scene for me.

Gentle hills, with a small square box and triangle roof. One window, one door, one chimney. Just about like his house now, and his fathers before that.

He builds it with ink and paper and slides it over to me.

I got to add the color.

That drawing stayed on my grandma’s mantle for… about as long as I can remember.

I never got to ask her why.

My First Math Memory.

I looked at the clock after that first sentence above, and a few moments later… 3:14am. Pie.

One of my favorite times to catch the clock. Pie. That’s not the math memory. I was just pausing. To catch the clock. At the right time. I have an intuitive internal clock.

It’s not even 4am yet. Another favorite time of mine. Anytime in the 4am hour really. Because of my last name. Anna AM. That hour, that four am hour, is for me. But it’s also… not my hour.

I would call it an open hour. An hour I try to do something for me. Each day.

I have favorite clock times. I wonder what my first time memory is. Maybe I’m still making it.

After Math Memory.

Yesterday, after working on my open performance review post.

I asked my dad what he thought the first math thing was that he taught me. He was a little astounded at the question I think, as I described my earliest memories of the dictionary game and art.

He didn’t think about it too much, but laughed. And put up one finger on one hand, then a finger on the other.

Then did the “magic” trick, where one finger “moves” from one hand to the other after kinda smashing them together. I couldn’t help but smile. He’s such a performer.

One plus one, becomes two. He said. As he did the trick.

I didn’t quite realize it until sometime around 3:14am this morning.

He taught me math in sign language. His own sign language. Before I could speak. With magic.

At least that’s how I think it happened.

But I don’t quite remember. Magic.

The Number 13.

I recently asked a coworker, also named Anna, why she said that The 13 Clocks was her favorite book. I can’t remember why I stumbled across her favorite book, but once I did, I had to ask why.

Since the number 13 is one of my favorites.

The 13th Wairrior

And… I had just made a reference at work to a favorite movie (not only because it has 13 in the title). But The 13th Warrior, because there was a scene in that movie, where, as I remember it… Antonio is sitting around the fire with, Vikings (I think), and suddenly the language starts to become clear.

He listens to learn.

And suddenly can speak the language.

I want to be on the ai team at work, so hopefully I can pick up the language of ai.

From humans.

I want to listen at work. Listen, to the most cutting edge work that’s being done at a8c. First hand. And I used a number, the number 13, to help me understand why. And explain why.

Plus, I thought it would be kinda poetic if I joined the team now, the 13th team member, the only HE on the team. Just seems right.

A New 13 Exploration.

Back to the next adventure. The 13 Clocks.

What makes The 13 Clocks your favorite book?


The 13 Clocks… a few different reasons, two being: it is utter chaos of verse and prose intertwined, which is something one doesn’t encounter often in English (but is more common in my other native language, Hungarian); and the way it handles magic. Magic is often portrayed in literature as conforming to rules conceivable by humans, almost “logical”. In the 13 Clocks, magic is…whatever it wants to be: capricious, wise, cheeky, ridiculous, situationally appropriate or entirely infuriating. And that is how I think magic actually is.

Another Anna

And wow, if I didn’t love that description. I gotta write that down.

And now I gotta read that book.

I think I’ll be at a library today. One of my favorite spaces. Libraries.

I’ll have to see if I can track a hard copy down. For free.

I do love free.

I wonder what my first money memory is.

I’ll have to contemplate on that one. Maybe it’s my dad saying that sentence.

Perhaps going through a coin collection with my brother.

Or counting money with dad, for fun, learning to count with something tangible.

He is the “concrete sequential” guy.


A game I love. I’m always seeking people to play with. Seems rather mathematical to me, even though I don’t understand the math yet.

Are there more moves in happiness than there are atoms in the universe?

Are there more moves in ai than there are in happiness?

Like Go?

Like… Go?

Reminds me of that exploration I started of different sized infinities. I’ll have to try to track that one down.


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