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Philosophy
Jan. 21st, 2004 07:30 pmI rather dislike the day after my birthday; it’s so final. That is, the excitement is over – three-hundred and sixty-four days to go, don’t you know. It’s different this year for two reasons. Firstly, it’s three hundred and sixty-five days, and secondly, I’m uncomfortably aware that those three-hundred and something days are my last ones as a child. Legally, I am a child, but this time next year I won’t be. It’s hard to get my head round the fact that the person I am, the person I am going to be, the girl in the mirror, will have enough experience of this strange thing called life to ultimately be responsible for herself and her own actions.
The thought is frightening and liberating at the same time.
In other news, I passionately love![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lilka and you must all go and read this. I wasn’t expecting a birthday fic from any quarter this year, and fell in love with this one – it’s a gorgeously irreverent sweep through Good Omens, Discworld, Harry Potter, Hitch-Hiker’s and M*A*S*H. Read it and leave lots of lovely, well-deserved feedback.
That was discovered in the evening, though. Today being Wednesday was good; as I have said many times before, it’s my interlude in the week. It started in rocky fashion – I had two committee meetings at the same time. However, no-one turned for either of them. I rather think the situation will pick up next week when assembly starts again. Because of exams, assembly is being held in the gym, and it’s packed to capacity – the sixth form are reluctantly excused. I actually don’t mind assembly as much as I have in previous years – only going to two a week has helped, and now not going to any of them is also good. Nevertheless, they are re-starting next week and I’m sure the committees will descend in their usual numbers as they flee.
As it generally does, my Politics lesson followed, but I could not be bothered to go on so many levels. I considered just skiving, and I went out to the shop with Meg and then kept her company in the common room. We were both reading – Nine Tomorrows (Asimov, liberated it from the library office) in my case, and Order of the Phoenix in hers. It was peaceful, but by ten o’clock the stirrings of guilt were getting too much to ignore, so I grabbed my coat, carefully rearranged my hair, picked up my file and went into the lesson, blandly informing Miss Hathaway, “I’ve only just got in.”
That worked. And then I went to Biology, but I don’t mind that on Wednesdays for some reason. Besides, we were treated to a showing of the DNA Jigsaw Strikes Back. I like jigsaws, even when they involve careful assembly of mRNA and tRNA. Rice-Oxley was surprisingly affable, and disappeared for a bit halfway through because her husband was having fits over the double glazing. However, one piece of information did come to light during that lesson that amused Rice-Oxley and worried me. Because it had come up in conversation, I told her that I wasn’t planning to study science of any sort at university, but maybe Philosophy, Politics and Economics. “Philosophy is good,” I said.
“Right,” said she. “You’d be better suited to it. Maybe you’d stop asking me if bacteria have souls.”
But that was not what was disturbing me. It’s a little difficult to explain, especially as AS is designed to be confusing, but let’s talk about DNA. Protein synthesis occurs when small sections of DNA are transcribed by messengerRNA, and exit through nuclear pores into the cytoplasm, where they meet transferRNA (bound with amino acids) in ribosomes and translation occurs, forming polypeptides. All proteins, be they enzymes, hormones, receptors, structural proteins or something else entirely, are formed this way.
But (and it’s a big but) the mRNA that transcribes the DNA is assembled from free nucleotides with the help of an enzyme. It glories in the name of ribonucleic acid-polymerase, and is an unremarkable tertiary protein. The problem? RNA-polymerase is formed by protein synthesis. For protein synthesis to occur, mRNA must form, and it cannot do so without RNA-polymerase. The enzyme that allows the process to happen is itself formed by that process. Chicken and egg country.
When I reached this point in the argument, perched on my bench in the physics lab, Rice-Oxley looked me straight in the eye and said, “Do you believe in God?”
Shit.
I trudged out of that lesson embroiled in the usual does-God/Allah/Jehovah/someone-exist? argument with Fidan. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I went off to lunch in a good mood. Because of Cooking On a Budget tomorrow, Becca and Emma wanted to buy ingredients, so off we went to Sainsbury’s and filled a basket with three sandwiches, a bag of onions, a carton of natural yoghurt and innumerable packets of pasta. This accomplished, we retired to the common room to eat. After a while, Becca and Nicola departed for Fourfield (sp?), Emma went off to do homework, and I ambled down to the lower library.
When I got there, Nichola and Mrs Barry were embroiled in an argument about whether or not Red Dwarf was a book before it was a television series. I favoured series before book, and Mrs Barry concurred. Nichola was too busy singing, “It’s cold outside, there’s no kind of atmosphere… something about mango juice…”
She eventually checked it out on the website. Yes, it was a series before a book. We were all right, and – Mrs Barry was positively gleeful about this – Patrick was wrong. I said I’d inform him. Actually, Mrs Peppin came in then – I’m sure she thinks Nichola and I don’t do any actual work, which is absolutely true. She also came in just when Nichola was expounding on an obscure philosophical point – “Why do we have, like, Martin Luther King Day, and National Holocaust Day, but it’s National Chip Week?”
Mrs Barry gave her a look. “Nichola, Iona and I are both fairly intelligent people, and neither of us have any idea what the hell you are talking about.”
By the time Emma came down to get me, I really didn’t want to leave. But I had to eventually, and off we went down to the Stroke Association. The only memorable thing about it was the fact that for once, we did not play dominoes. We played Scrabble. I love Scrabble. And I was the one charged with taking care of the dictionary. We discovered several new words this afternoon, because there’s a minor adjustment to the rules when they play. If one of the members lays down a word that doesn’t seem to be a word, and the dictionary goes on to say it is a word, then it stands, regardless of whether or not its perpetrator knew it was a word or not. So, for example, did you know that “shaw” is a word? It’s used to refer to the stalks and leaves of a potato plant. “Jag” is also a word; it means a “drinking bout or spree.” This prompted much hilarity, and a lot of people resolving to go off and irritate the hell out of their neighbours with their new vocabulary. The third word was one I knew but no-one else did, and that was “maven.” I love that word, but have yet to use it in conversation.
And so I departed for home, and on the way went to the dentist. I have definitely mentioned my dentist before – he is so very charming, and always remembers who I am. Pedar was with me, and while we were sitting in the waiting room, we couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between the two receptionists. It became apparent that one of them had a sister who had gone into labour yesterday night. She was loath to phone the hospital in case they thought she was pestering them. Enter Pedar, who volunteered to phone for them – their faces when they recognised him were priceless – and the lady in question does appear to be one of Pedar’s patients, and will deliver within the next hour. A happy ending all round; and now I know of one (more) person with a birthday the day after mine. Happy birthday,captain_kruger!
My mother is coming home tonight; her train gets in at ten, so we have to leave at nine, giving me exactly two hours and forty minutes to do my Biology coursework. Despite outside appearances, this is a good thing.
The thought is frightening and liberating at the same time.
In other news, I passionately love
lilka and you must all go and read this. I wasn’t expecting a birthday fic from any quarter this year, and fell in love with this one – it’s a gorgeously irreverent sweep through Good Omens, Discworld, Harry Potter, Hitch-Hiker’s and M*A*S*H. Read it and leave lots of lovely, well-deserved feedback.That was discovered in the evening, though. Today being Wednesday was good; as I have said many times before, it’s my interlude in the week. It started in rocky fashion – I had two committee meetings at the same time. However, no-one turned for either of them. I rather think the situation will pick up next week when assembly starts again. Because of exams, assembly is being held in the gym, and it’s packed to capacity – the sixth form are reluctantly excused. I actually don’t mind assembly as much as I have in previous years – only going to two a week has helped, and now not going to any of them is also good. Nevertheless, they are re-starting next week and I’m sure the committees will descend in their usual numbers as they flee.
As it generally does, my Politics lesson followed, but I could not be bothered to go on so many levels. I considered just skiving, and I went out to the shop with Meg and then kept her company in the common room. We were both reading – Nine Tomorrows (Asimov, liberated it from the library office) in my case, and Order of the Phoenix in hers. It was peaceful, but by ten o’clock the stirrings of guilt were getting too much to ignore, so I grabbed my coat, carefully rearranged my hair, picked up my file and went into the lesson, blandly informing Miss Hathaway, “I’ve only just got in.”
That worked. And then I went to Biology, but I don’t mind that on Wednesdays for some reason. Besides, we were treated to a showing of the DNA Jigsaw Strikes Back. I like jigsaws, even when they involve careful assembly of mRNA and tRNA. Rice-Oxley was surprisingly affable, and disappeared for a bit halfway through because her husband was having fits over the double glazing. However, one piece of information did come to light during that lesson that amused Rice-Oxley and worried me. Because it had come up in conversation, I told her that I wasn’t planning to study science of any sort at university, but maybe Philosophy, Politics and Economics. “Philosophy is good,” I said.
“Right,” said she. “You’d be better suited to it. Maybe you’d stop asking me if bacteria have souls.”
But that was not what was disturbing me. It’s a little difficult to explain, especially as AS is designed to be confusing, but let’s talk about DNA. Protein synthesis occurs when small sections of DNA are transcribed by messengerRNA, and exit through nuclear pores into the cytoplasm, where they meet transferRNA (bound with amino acids) in ribosomes and translation occurs, forming polypeptides. All proteins, be they enzymes, hormones, receptors, structural proteins or something else entirely, are formed this way.
But (and it’s a big but) the mRNA that transcribes the DNA is assembled from free nucleotides with the help of an enzyme. It glories in the name of ribonucleic acid-polymerase, and is an unremarkable tertiary protein. The problem? RNA-polymerase is formed by protein synthesis. For protein synthesis to occur, mRNA must form, and it cannot do so without RNA-polymerase. The enzyme that allows the process to happen is itself formed by that process. Chicken and egg country.
When I reached this point in the argument, perched on my bench in the physics lab, Rice-Oxley looked me straight in the eye and said, “Do you believe in God?”
Shit.
I trudged out of that lesson embroiled in the usual does-God/Allah/Jehovah/someone-exist? argument with Fidan. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I went off to lunch in a good mood. Because of Cooking On a Budget tomorrow, Becca and Emma wanted to buy ingredients, so off we went to Sainsbury’s and filled a basket with three sandwiches, a bag of onions, a carton of natural yoghurt and innumerable packets of pasta. This accomplished, we retired to the common room to eat. After a while, Becca and Nicola departed for Fourfield (sp?), Emma went off to do homework, and I ambled down to the lower library.
When I got there, Nichola and Mrs Barry were embroiled in an argument about whether or not Red Dwarf was a book before it was a television series. I favoured series before book, and Mrs Barry concurred. Nichola was too busy singing, “It’s cold outside, there’s no kind of atmosphere… something about mango juice…”
She eventually checked it out on the website. Yes, it was a series before a book. We were all right, and – Mrs Barry was positively gleeful about this – Patrick was wrong. I said I’d inform him. Actually, Mrs Peppin came in then – I’m sure she thinks Nichola and I don’t do any actual work, which is absolutely true. She also came in just when Nichola was expounding on an obscure philosophical point – “Why do we have, like, Martin Luther King Day, and National Holocaust Day, but it’s National Chip Week?”
Mrs Barry gave her a look. “Nichola, Iona and I are both fairly intelligent people, and neither of us have any idea what the hell you are talking about.”
By the time Emma came down to get me, I really didn’t want to leave. But I had to eventually, and off we went down to the Stroke Association. The only memorable thing about it was the fact that for once, we did not play dominoes. We played Scrabble. I love Scrabble. And I was the one charged with taking care of the dictionary. We discovered several new words this afternoon, because there’s a minor adjustment to the rules when they play. If one of the members lays down a word that doesn’t seem to be a word, and the dictionary goes on to say it is a word, then it stands, regardless of whether or not its perpetrator knew it was a word or not. So, for example, did you know that “shaw” is a word? It’s used to refer to the stalks and leaves of a potato plant. “Jag” is also a word; it means a “drinking bout or spree.” This prompted much hilarity, and a lot of people resolving to go off and irritate the hell out of their neighbours with their new vocabulary. The third word was one I knew but no-one else did, and that was “maven.” I love that word, but have yet to use it in conversation.
And so I departed for home, and on the way went to the dentist. I have definitely mentioned my dentist before – he is so very charming, and always remembers who I am. Pedar was with me, and while we were sitting in the waiting room, we couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between the two receptionists. It became apparent that one of them had a sister who had gone into labour yesterday night. She was loath to phone the hospital in case they thought she was pestering them. Enter Pedar, who volunteered to phone for them – their faces when they recognised him were priceless – and the lady in question does appear to be one of Pedar’s patients, and will deliver within the next hour. A happy ending all round; and now I know of one (more) person with a birthday the day after mine. Happy birthday,
captain_kruger!My mother is coming home tonight; her train gets in at ten, so we have to leave at nine, giving me exactly two hours and forty minutes to do my Biology coursework. Despite outside appearances, this is a good thing.
