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I’ve had a crush on Stephen Malkmus since I was about 14. Basically, 90s indie rock bands defined my taste in men. See also: Jeff Mangum, Elliott Smith, Thurston Moore, Thom Yorke, Beck. (Of course, I don’t actually have crushes on these boys since I don’t know them; I only have crushes on imaginary romanticized ideas of these boys, but isn’t that every celebrity crush?)

And what happened to these boys? I remember in the 90-00s you couldn’t go to see a band or a record store or a diner and not see at least five or so achingly tall, skim-milk skinny, basement-apartment pale, 30-year-old boys. And all I could think was how I couldn’t wait until I was older and then I could have one of them as my boyfriend.

So where did they go, and why can’t I find any of them now?

Daniel Bernoulli came from a math family*. Lots of stuff is named for them. Bernoulli numbers are named for Jakob, who also figured out probability. Nicolaus II worked on differential equations. Johann invented that dismal mess called calculus. Daniel, though, worked on some of the easiest-to-understand stuff: fluid dynamics.

Fluid dynamics describe relationships among velocity, density, temperature, pressure, energy, etc. in space and time. Bernoulli’s principle is the basic support for flight. (Wing shapes, lift and drag are all functions in aerodynamics; the flow of air around a wing (faster above than below, creating a pressure difference) is what keeps it aloft.)

Fundamentally, these laws state that sums of potential and kinetic energy (as well as other things) are constant in a system. (Example: A plane goes fast, then achieves lift.) (Related: Newton’s second law: force = mass x acceleration, aka flying = plane x fast.) If something changes, other things change relative to that change in the system. If something in the system goes up, something else comes down. Not quite as poetic as chaos theory with its butterflies, but very mathematically sound and supremely logical.

While I believe these things are true in science, and in all the things of life which can be proven empirically, I do not believe they are true in reality. Reality is governed by more depressing maxims like “If something can go wrong, it will,” and “When it rains, it pours.”

So, dear Mr. Daniel Bernoulli of 18th-century Switzerland, I would appreciate your attention to the concern of my recent workload, and some consideration into certain unequal pressure without respective changes in density, energy or speed. When could I expect these things? July? December? Or, should I ignore your postulating and just accept they won’t, and my system has become non-Bernoullian, and move on with figuring my own laws to govern its specific mechanics?

Also, a little study could be done with my personal lifting and dragging, too, I suppose.

*I don’t come from a math family. All actual math persons please excuse my haphazard and ugly explanations of your careful and beautiful concepts.

I do not play golf. This week in the state where I live, there is a large golfing tournament of some kind. Beers are $2. You can also get egg salad sandwiches. The winner gets a jacket.

People pay exorbitant amounts of money to go stand around and watch this happen.

Today, at my grandparents’ house, this was on television. And at their house, it was technically on an array of televisions, in every room, rivaling an actual sports bar. And apparently, it’s the only thing you aren’t allowed to be smart-assed about.

All of my families are brilliant smart-asses. There is nothing sacred. I’ve been mocked for not having a job (though I have three), having brown hair, having gray hair, wearing pants, wearing a dress, wearing glasses, not wearing glasses … like I said, nothing is sacred.

So, imagine my shock at the table today, when I got the blankest of stares for mocking golf. GOLF ON TELEVISION.

Me: So, it’s expensive, to go?
Cousin: Yes, but it’s so amazing. The grounds are just beautiful. Every blade of grass, every flower, is perfect.
Me: I can see that. From here. On the TV.
Cousin: You don’t get it. You don’t play golf. I bet you hate going to baseball games too.
Me: No, I love going to baseball games. You get to sit down and there’s big pretzels and if you sit in the right part of the ballpark they bring the beers to you.
Cousin: Just, trust me. It’s a lot more fun to play than to watch.
Me: It better be.

My dad has zero sense of humor about it as well. He texted me last week to tell me he was going and I should watch for him on TV. I texted him today to tell him I didn’t see him, but I saw a couple hundred other middle-aged fat guys.

The only thing more boring, I think, than golf on television is tennis on television. Seriously. Nearly 75 years of technological breakthroughs in broadcast television and the best thing they can put on is a bunch of dudes in white on some nice grass smacking balls with things.

The summit of Mount Everest is 29,029 feet high. Tibetans call it “Chomolungma,” which means “Mother Goddess of the Earth.” From the top, you can see Tibet, India and Nepal, and the first people to get there were Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, in 1953. They were the ninth expedition to try.

Actually, apparently, some other people could have gotten there first (Andrew Irvine and George Mallory), but they disappeared.

About 4,000 people have tried to follow them, but only about 660 have made it. On the way, 219 people have died. Roughly, only one in six people make it to the top, and one in four people die. It’s difficult to retrieve bodies, so corpses stay where they are, up on the mountain. People also leave their garbage. (Mostly, empty oxygen bottles.) There’s apparently even a controversy amongst serious climbers and alpinists about using bottled oxygen at all, but the truth is, above about 26,000 feet, humans get very fragile, and conditions get very terrible. More oxygen = better decision-making = less dying. Less oxygen = bad decision-making = lots of dying.

So, it’s pretty dangerous.

It’s also very expensive — about $65,000 to train, get there, hire guides and people to help you.

It’s pretty safe to say I’m never going to do it. Aside from all the things I don’t like about it (it’s outside, you have to camp and wear ridiculous clothing, it’s cold, there’s snow and to get there is a really long flight), I probably also won’t do it because there’s a very very real chance I’d die.

Another thing I don’t do because it involves things I don’t like and possible death: large outdoor music festivals. Since 2002, ten people have died at Bonnaroo. Now, I’d love to go to Bonnaroo. I love music and I love a lot of the bands they get for the Bonnaroo lineups every year, but have you been to Tennessee in the summer? It’s roughly 150 degrees all day every day. (For comparison, in 24 years only one person has died at Glastonbury, the big English music festival, and only one person has died at Coachella in the 13 years it’s been around. I don’t know what it is about Bonnaroo, but it’s dangerous.) About 70-80,000 people go to Bonnaroo every year, so the mathematical chances of dying are slim, but I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my self-preservation skills on water-drinking and sunblock-applying and all those things. I’d die and then my corpse would bake.

I’m incredibly pale, out of shape, prone to dehydration and fainting, plus in my lifetime, I’ve already been to (and worked at) my share of oppressively hot outdoor music festivals. I’ve finished with that.

Anyway, lots of people go to these things, and love them. But if it’s so dangerous, why aren’t more people just climbing Everest instead? Danger, physical exertion, scarcity of water/food/survival amenities, it just costs way more and Radiohead isn’t going to be there.

But what’s the difference? How do people choose their preferences? What determines whether someone goes go Coachella or goes to Tibet? If I had to pick one, at gunpoint for example, I’d probably pick Everest, just because I hate crowds, and there’d be a good statistical chance I’d die and then never really have to do either one.