T. Andre Mintz
Sometimes I wonder about statistics.
How many statistics am I already?
How many will I become?
Statistically,
the median annual salary for writers and authors is about $73,000.
(This means half of all writers and authors make more than $73,000
and half make less.)
Will that be enough by the time I’m ready?
Upon revisiting the US Bureau of Labor Statistics for that figure, I found they’re also talking about authors of news articles, magazines, advertising companies and nonprofit organizations. Should I write for them, then?
I don’t want to.
I want to write adventures, worlds, heroes and villains. I like writing villains. (There’s no statistic for that.)
In a starving, violent realm, am I a villain?
(Men hurt people.)
(Statistically.)
Statistically,
one in four black men will die by gun violence. I am one of four brothers.
Will I need more black clothes? Should I never wear black again?
(My parents think I shouldn’t. It’s one of three things they still agree on.)
Should I tie my hair back?
(It attracts less attention, apparently.)
Should I cut it?
(Good conditioner is expensive.)
Is it wrong of me that I want my brothers to live?
Statistically,
online schools have lower retention rates than their brick-and-mortar
counter parts.
Online schools also by their very nature
have lower rates of chance encounters with vile people
of bullying and physical abuse
of gun massacres.
Is it wrong of me that I want my brothers to live?
(Should I just stop giving a damnlike the rest of my family?)
Statistically,
60.5% of Americans this year were cremated, rather than buried. (The National Funeral Directors Association predicts that by 2045, it’ll be over 80%.)
Should I be laid on a pyre like most people?
Will that make me basic, wanting something everyone else does?
(Does it matter?)
The void is vast, and everywhere. Will I become part of it when I burn? Will I feel the flames?
Do corpses feel?
(Will I deserve to burn?)
Statistically,
76.5% of Americans believe in some god. (Of the faithful, 92.3% are Christian.) Surely, they can’t all be wrong.
Right?
Does that make me a contrarian if I don’t believe? Will it matter that I didn’t?
Will I be judged, once I’ve burned?
(Should I care? I’m judged all the time. Seldom fairly.)
If a God exists and rules the void and judges people, at least it will understand everything about me (since the void is vast, and everywhere), and therefore that judgment will be valid.
Right?
If I live in a world where I have to wonder if my brothers will last the school day, where school itself puts you in debt forever, where just having good conditioner for hair like mine is enough to put you in debt forever,
If I must live in a starving, violent world, and a great being rules all this and judges’ people,
will I be judged fairly?
Will I be understood?
(I can barely be understood in life.)
Is it wrong of me that I want to live?
(Is it wrong of me to try to live?)
Do I need more friends?
Do villains have friends? Do villains need them?
The friend I’m dating (I don’t have any others yet) doesn’t think I’m a villain. I don’t think I’m a villain.
(Of course, most villains don’t. Statistically. I think.)
By this point, I should’ve noted, I’m not good at math.
It’s probably possible to be good enough to calculate the percentage of villains who don’t know what they are,
but I can’t do it.
Is it possible to be good enough at math to calculate if I’m worth the space I take up?
(Should I recycle more? Should I become a doctor? Should I learn to drive? Should I join a protest? Should I donate my hair? My blood? My dreams?
Will I be worth my space then? When there’s nothing in it?)
I don’t know how to calculate whether I’m doing enough.
(Is it wrong of me that I don’t want to?)
…Does it matter that I try?
(“Do, or do not. There is no try.” So says Yoda, wisest alien of all. So says my father, wisest man.)
In which case, I am doing nothing.
I am nothing.
Should I stop?
Statistically,
I don’t know.
There’s no science to tell me I’m not a mistake.
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