Out in the kitchen, my roommate, Ben, was sitting at the table behind a pile of books. He was studying for one of his actuarial exams in the field of life insurance. I forget which one, there was a series of nine or so. He studied all day on the weekends and all night when he got home from his bank job during the week. His obsession with numbers had his net worth completely fused with his self worth.

He was in every stereotypical sense a ‘nerd’. That was something we had in common. The difference was that he tried to fight it. By growing a thick, manly beard he hoped to convince people he was a tough guy. Despite the attempt he was a gentle giant.

"Good morning Starshiiiine. The Earth says hellooooo." he sang with the timbre of his Mid-Atlantic accent. Since his mother was British and his father American, he often sounded like a Disney villain. "You twinkle above us. We twinkle below." 

“Okay, okay.” I relented.

“What do you have planned for today?” Ben mumbled after taking a loud bite out of an apple.

I was packing my lunch on the counter.

“I have to be at work in less than an hour.”

“Stuck in before-work-limbo?” he continued, mouth full. “I am taking my exam this afternoon. If I pass we can go out for drinks to celebrate.” He told me gnashing his teeth spraying droplets of juice. “If I pass then I can get a better job and never have to worry about money again in a fancy office and be making big, sexy figures.”

“That sounds great.” I said unenthusiastically.

“Oh, come one. Don’t be a downer. You should try harder to find a career in your field. Remember those tips I gave you?” he argued.

“No, I get it. Applications go out everyday.” I assured.

It was a struggle making enough money just sharing an apartment with him. I didn’t really have a choice. I’d been living with him all through college ever since my parents sold the house and moved to Florida. I looked over at his books. It was all Greek to me, literally.

“You've got a pantheon of Greek symbols on the page. I only recognize the symbol for infinity there. Any chance you can claim that as a second language on your resume?” I joked.

"Ha, I wish. These symbols don't have anything to do with the letters." he explained. “But this here is the force of mortality, the killing force. The equation contains all the factors that act upon a person affecting their life span. No matter the conditions, the function always approaches one; it will hunt you down eventually.”

“And this is all for insurance purposes?”

“Yea... It seems like evil villain stuff, but it's necessary for companies to know how risky life insurance is.” he proclaimed, rubbing the fruit against his chest.

“Morbid.”

“It’s not morbid. It is the law of nature. We have to calculate the best possible outcome for the highest number of people. That’s only fair.” he explained.

“I suppose. How was your Friday night?”

“It was okay, I saw the new Slicer movie.”

"Ugh... How can you watch those? What is that, the third one now?" I moaned. 

“There's nothing wrong with them! Sometimes I just like to turn off my brain and enjoy a movie. You should try it sometime.”

“I suppose you're right. I could save a lot of trouble if I stop thinking so much.” I said sarcastically.

“Is the way you always try to get me to watch cartoons any better? You keep asking me to watch that one PIXAR movie.” he complained.

“No, it was a Disney movie. It is 3D animation, but it was made by Disney Studios.” I corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. That's kid stuff.” he brushed off.

“I don't see it that way. Animation is just a way to be more creative. Whether it's for kids or adults doesn't matter. It is still art.” 

“No…” -Crunch. “Not everything needs to be art. That’s your problem. No one else is interested in cartoons, philosophy, art, games, culture or whatever else you keep telling me about. You shouldn't try so hard to change people. You're too codependent. Why do you care what other people think?” he psychoanalyzed.

“I don't know what other people think.”

“But you always complain that no one is interested in your art. Just make art for you and watch cartoons for you.” he suggested.

“I need an audience to prove that my work means something.”

“You need to be more self reliant.” he told me while flipping through a book of interview tips.

“You're right.” I said looking at the clock. “I'm hoping the boss isn't in today. He said he had an appointment, but there is still a fifty-fifty chance.” I said on my way out the door taking my sandwich with me.
“Well, you have to ask yourself...” he said, putting two fingers together up in the air like a gun barrel and two down gripping the imaginary handle. “Are you feeling lucky, punk?” he finished, and aimed at me.