Progress on the Whimsical Revolution Thus Far

Yesterday morning I read my first couple of posts on this blog. In the very first one I explained that my revolution wasn't on the macro level, but rather it was a personal revolution. I think great change on the macro level has to begin with individual people changing and then harmonizing with others around them. It is like changing and tuning strings on a guitar. You can't magically change them all and have them in tune in an instant. Each string needs to be detuned to release the tension, and then removed. Each new string needs to be strung up and then tensioned individually, but in conjunction with the other strings. If you tune your E to E and then begin to tune each other string successively you will find that the tension on the E has changed by the time you finish the sixth string. Fine tuning a guitar requires multiple passes through the set of strings, fine tuning each as you go. After several courses the strings will be in their proper tune and will be unified with the other strings in the proper key. I think people are similar. When you want a revolution, for good or bad, each person involved needs to change independently of others, but still in accordance with others. You can't expect them all to turn out the same, some will be tuned to E, others to D or A, but together they will be in unity of purpose. This is why my revolution is one of self. I can't do anything to effect a large scale change of thinking in society, but I can do something to effect a large scale change of thinking in myself. This is what I thought about as I reread that first posting. I didn't think about it much throughout the day, but in the evening I became very introspective. [As an aside, to finish the guitar-revolution analogy, when new strings are put on a guitar and tuned up, they don't hold that tuning for very long. There is flexibility in the strings and they will stretch. Retuning is constantly necessary for the first few hours or days the guitar is played, depending on how much it is played. Eventually, the strings will be adjusted appropriately and they will maintain the tuning. In applying this to people, I would suggest that new ideas and change in people needs to be reinforced for a while until the person is sufficiently able to maintain the change of habits and ways of thinking.]
I will need to set the table for this next story, otherwise you might be trying to eat your spaghetti out of a mug. You could if you want to, actually, maybe you should. I'll still give some background information. January of 2008 brought me to this university. My brother had be attending here for about 2 years before I got here. He had his group of friends, not unlike the cast of a sitcom. They developed their own sovereign nation, New Massachusetts, NewMa for short. Within NewMa there were all of necessary political leaders. While the country maintained independence, they were still loyal to the United States and lived peaceably within it. The boundaries of their country consisted of whichever apartment the majority of them were living in. The motto was "Brotherhood Until Marriagehood." This was strictly adhered to. I would have had inclusion in this society due to my blood lineage with one of the founding fathers of it, but by the time I arrived at school most of the NewMa'ns were already moved on to marriagehood or graduationhood. Those who remained were working intently on obtaining marriagehood as well. The pie parties, Charlie Brown Christmas parties and whatever other formal events of the past were no more, or more accurately, not as frequent. I was able to participate in a few events. It was just that one semester though, and then NewMa was pretty much finished. The remnants remaining were a rug and a door magnet that read "NewMa main office." I must address the door magnet first. I call it a door magnet because it was on our front door, I suppose it could be any sort of magnet though. Our door was already special in that it must have been replaced some semesters back due to damage, because it was different than the other doors. Highlighting the difference was the fact that our door didn't have the apartment number painted on it. We had a different style door without a number, and it had a magnet that said main office on it. This was entertaining to me when confused college students would knock on the door and then see that it was a regular apartment and ask with perplexed look and tone, "is this the office?" I'd say "yes", then pause, and then say "but not for the apartment complex." I enjoyed it. The other remaining relic was a rug. It belonged to a member of the country who had graduated two semesters prior to my attendance and was off at grad school, I think. He is a professor here now, so he must have gotten an advanced degree. Anyway, I never met him until last night. This rug was a bit of a celebrity in NewMa. It was similar in appearance to a twister mat, only not as brightly colored, not plastic and not with circles. The rug was all squares, different colored without pattern. Dark colors, such as maroon, and dark blue, and some muted beige type thing. At one point in the NewMa history the rug did serve as a twister mat; a unique spinning pointer wheel thing was made for the occasion. Another time featured my brother being rolled up in the rug and carried around, finally to be unrolled from the rug from above the sofa, making him roll down to the floor a la a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I wasn't present for these events, I only saw pictures, but it was enough to make me feel at home when I moved into the apartment and the rug was present. I have been in school for 7 semesters now, and that rug has always been in the living room. The whole time I was told that the owner would someday return for the rug.
Through my first 4 semesters there remained a founding member of NewMa in the apartment, but after that the duty of rug guardian fell to me alone. My new roommates didn't know the story of NewMa and didn't quite understand the door magnet. Last fall the doors were repainted and the magnet came down. I mailed that to my brother. The rug remained. I started mentioning it to the members of NewMa I retained contact with, that I would soon be leaving and that rug would be on its own. Last week, James Johnson, of http://www.jamesjohnsonfineart.com/ called me to inquire about the rug.
It was a Friday night, I think. I was home, sweating in the heat, watching TV. James called and the first thing he said was "I'm at [some water/amusement park]." I told him my situation and thanked him for calling to let me know that. I thought that was all he was calling for, but then he got down to business and told me that the owner of the rug would be coming for it within the week. Last night he arrived. He has been teaching at the university for a while, so he's been in town and wanted to recover the rug, but he didn't know where it was. He asked James, who then called me and the rest is history. It was nice to finally meet the friend of my brother and his friends, we had an enjoyable chat and laughed for a while. We joked about how I was told that one day someone would show up asking for the rug. It was very Biff and Marty-Back to the Future II-sports almanac-like. Only no one pulled a gun or threw a matchbook holder at anyone's head. It felt mythical though. And when he had left with the rug I felt like something had been accomplished, or rather not accomplished.
This is when the introspection began. I spent the next 4 hours after that thinking again about my revolution of self and just the last two and a half years in general. I asked myself questions like these: am I any better off now than I was before I came to school? In the last few months have I progressed or am I complacently stagnant? If I get hungry for pizza over the weekend, should I walk somewhere or pay the delivery fee? Eventually I was able to fall asleep, but the pensiveness remained when I awoke this morning.
It is interesting to see what events will trigger the thoughts or actions that lead to change. A simple joke between two weird guys who never met before, about the mythical guardianship of a rug. This sends me into a spat of introspection. I suppose it is actually quite proper, after all, it is a whimsical revolution I am trying to lead.