Revolution

I've been thinking a lot recently about the word "revolution." When I say recently, I mean while I made toast just now. When a disc revolves around a point, it makes a "revolution." When peasants revolt, their movement is a "revolution." When John Lennon makes a haunting sound collage, he calls it "Revolution 9," which is unfortunately stuck in my head as a result of this little introduction. Moving on&hellp;

Other words of these two roots include "revolting" and "revolver." The former word can describe something quite disgusting; the latter word can describe something quite disgusting. Ho ho ho. I'm not a big fan of guns. It does, however, strike me as a little odd — if not revelatory — that two words describing any general thing that causes a change have come to describe something as disgusting and name a weapon. Is change disgusting? Does a revolution rely on weapons? Certainly, in any revolution there are those supporting the old ways, most of whom would view the new age as disgusting. In the case of the revolver, obviously the term describes its mechanics and not its function or idealistic symbolism.

Several other common cases that call "to revolve" to order strike me as interesting, which likely means you should stop reading. You haven't? Brave soul… Anyway, one such case is: To think the world revolves around oneself It describes megalomania or perhaps simply narcissism — to be described as one, I'd be offended; for the other, I'd agree — but the connotation of being the cause to every effect is one which both frightens and consoles me. I'd rather not be to blame for every bad thing that happens; I'd gladly be told that I'm in complete control of my own life. Guilt is annoying; free will is my favourite.

It also conjures memories of ideas raised in Mostly Harmless — the last book in Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy series — and conceptualised by the lovely German word "umwelt." It is the idea that everything in one's world is shaped by one's own experiences: the universe is unique to the viewer. I rather like this idea. It means I don't have to share my universe with things that I don't like. I can also define my own meaning, morals and rules. It's somewhat an extension of "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," which once again is an idea of which I am greatly fond. Why would two quite distinct creatures have the same ideal of beauty? Even if something can be described as objectively beautiful, I simply take that to mean that, on average, people find it subjectively beautiful.

I've rather strayed from my original etymological discussion or approximation thereof. I'm not too bothered, though. I count this as a moderately interesting post, which is a step in the right direction from whatever miserable tripe I spat into prose last time. I did mean to get onto the idea that nothing would ever change without something "revolting" happening to provoke it, but I've so little to say on that matter that I'd rather leave myself open to queries regarding perception than, as it were, interception^†.

^†I think we could count the Arab Spring and other revolutions as "interceptions" of power. I like using words that share a root but differ in prefixes. What are you going to do about it?

I'm Always Miserable When I Write These

My little brother recently emailed me to detail his distress at having read my previous post so many times. As a courtesy to him, I write this. So, in a way, this blogpost is dedicated to my little brother, Owen.

I distinctly remember injecting zero work into my GCSEs and performing rather well. In my AS year, I upped my game somewhat to the most minimal level of work required to hit scores of 90%, and I slacked from this in my A2 year only to the detriment of Physics and French in which I received an A grade and a B grade respectively. In the interests of modesty, I would like to introduce my inability to swim. Today, however, in my first year of a maths degree, I've discovered that my coasting capabilities have reached their limits. I have no doubt that I could pass through to second year with minimum effort, but that feels rather like a waste of all the effort I put into not putting any effort into things in the past.

Should I fail to do better than simply not failing, I will be most disappointed with myself for at least five minutes before finding something better to do with my time than kick myself for not bending to society's silly rules. There are a great deal many things about which I care deeply, most of which have names and the remainder are either abstract concepts or the most simple of items. For instance, I care deeply about my ability to write, and, for that matter, to read. There is no qualification in existence which can aid my prowess in these fields. Similarly, I enjoy cooking and eating, neither of which requires a university degree. Intelligent conversation is my opium and I need not a first in maths in order to stimulate myself so.

I've actually bored myself with this.

My attention span is somewhat at a deficit.

I must apologise to Owen for dedicating to him perhaps my worst post since that time I attempted to write a short story in five minutes. I have many an interesting subject rolling around my head, some of which present much greater problems than those presented by my mundane ogre of a degree. They are trifles and thus the most intriguing of things. None are so easily communicable and yet all are decidedly commonplace. I cannot concentrate on such boring concepts as continuous functions or linear transformations while my brain has much deeper abysses into which to plummet and darker swamps in which to frolic.

I seem to have come full circle, or even made a breakthrough. I think that is the difference between then and now. During my school years, nothing was important to me, thus I could conceptualise utterly useless chemistry and brilliantly bogus physics without once having my mind wander. I'd now so much rather be preoccupied with thoughts of family and friends than by equations and translations.

Just a quick post-script: I'm actually somewhat happy at the moment. I've been great for days, this is just some downtime. I only ever blog during my downtime, it would seem. When I'm next happy, I may do a shorter, happier post.