Catching up

Current state of being? Freshly showered, just finished skyping with the 'rents, eating mini Cadbury Creme Eggs, sipping water, listening to a combination of obscure indie music and the downpour outside tap against my skylight, avoiding starting my first Oxford essay, eying my warm bed slyly, and reveling in God's faithfulness. And now add that the correct spelling of "eying" is weirding me out... shouldn't it be "eyeing"? Apparently not, because there is a red squiggly line showing up under the one with two e's. Fine. Eying. Sounds more like what Canadians do at the end of their sentences, but whatever. Other than my dissatisfaction with the English language, I am utterly content in this moment. Which is really what we have to take life by, isn't it? Moments. Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough worry of its own. We aren't promised another hour, let alone another day. Moments. ...and on that uncharacteristically profound note, I shall move on to the moments that I have been experiencing since I last blogged. :)

Again, everything is blurring together, so I'll just hit some highlights that stand out in my mind. On Tuesday last week, I and most of the people in my flat took a tour of the Oxford castle. Yes, castle. Boom baby, I WAS IN A CASTLE. Which actually, from the 18th century until 1996 was a prison. And now it's a hotel. Oh, irony. Regardless of the irony, it was actually quite interesting to learn the history surrounding this place. AND our tour guide was dressed in a period costume. Totes worth the £7. Quote from that day that I deemed worthy to make note of: "I would eat human. But I wouldn't eat insect. That just grosses me out." - Jason.


On Wednesday, I had a somewhat busy day. First off, I had to go to the Bodleian Library to swear my oath and get my library card. Yes, you read correctly. To get access to the Bodleian Library, you have to swear an oath to not remove any book from the premises and to not set fire to the place. The fire thing is pretty self explanatory... books = paper = flammable. But in regards to not being able to take any of the books, it's by order of Sir Thomas Bodley, the chap that we can thank for the library. But the best part of the Bod (as we locals call it) is that it's a legal deposit library. That means that ever since Tommy Bodley struck a deal with the Stationers' Company in London in 1610, a copy of every single book published in the UK gets sent to the Bod. The lady that gave us a brief rundown of the history said that currently they receive about 1,000 new books a day. Craziness, right? And I get access to every single one of 'em. :D So after hitting up the Bod for the first time, I trekked over to my college's campus for a tour from the JCR president. And at this time I have to take a timeout to explain that last sentence:
Oxford University is comprised of over 40 different colleges. When you apply to Oxford University, you get acceptance to a college. You're only in if a college wants you. The way that the university and the colleges interact is very similar to our federal and state goverments: the states (colleges) are completely their own entities with their own rules, while still remaining under the general jurisdiction of the federal government (university). This being the case, every college has its own separate campus/location/whatever you want to call it. So most of the gorgeous walled courtyards and regal buildings that you see when you look at pictures of Oxford are various colleges. One of the quickest ways to spot an Oxford tourist: "Where is the university campus?" When you walk through Oxford, the campuses are all around you.
So anywaysssss, I then got a tour of my college's grounds. I belong to St. Catherine's College, aka: St. Cat'z, or Catz. It is the youngest mixed college (I'm the baby, gotta love me), therefore I am at the one college that does NOT have epic ancient looking buildings. All the facilities are very "modern"... and by modern, I mean that they're outdated, geometric, and scream 1960's. But don't get me wrong, I am a proud St. Cat'z girl. :) I bleed... umm... *looks up college colors* plum and sky blue? ...hm. I'll have to make sure that Wikipedia isn't leading me astray. I'll get back to you on that. Moving right along, that evening Tupac hosted a welcome dinner for all of the OPUS students that were members of St. Cat'z or New College at the St. Cat'z dining hall. But this wasn't just any dinner. First of all, it was formal: cocktail dresses and tuxes, if we could manage it (I definitely managed. Holla.). Second of all, it took place at high table, which is no small matter (Google it. I'm tired of explaining the idiosyncrasies of Oxford.). Third of all, there was a pre-dinner alcohol schmoozing thing. Fourth of all, there were three wine glasses at each place setting... three wine glasses for three different types of wine. Fifth of all, we had assigned seats. Sixth of all, there were four courses. Seventh of all, I'm tired of numbering, so I'll just go back to stream of consciousness. Long story short, this was a fancy dinner. I happened to get my assigned seat across the table from Dan the Giant (my really tall flatmate) and Aimee (one of my first friends from APU), and right next to the aforementioned St. Cat'z JCR president, Aiden (kind of like a student government president, but dealing more with social things). So I got to sit next to one of the only British blokes there! :D Yay British blokes! I tried not to grill him about student activities, BUT he was in a play last semester and he is part of a painting club on the weekends. So it's definitely safe to say that I failed in my endeavor to not interrogate him. But he was very friendly and responsive... and progressively so throughout the evening, as more and more wine varieties were brought forth and consumed... but then again, so was everyone else. Heh. [Side note: It has surprised me how integral alcohol is to society here. Not necessarily getting drunk, but alcohol. Every college has it's own bar. There are probably more pubs than there are toilets. People regularly will have a beer with lunch. There is no problem with professors having students over for drinks. The way that events are advertised are by what alcohol will be served. I got an email from my JCR mailing list about a whiskey tasting event. Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol.] But the most noteworthy thing about this fancy schmancy dinner? The HOUR of toasts that happened after we finished dessert. We literally toasted each other until every single person at that table had been toasted/made a toast. All the while everyone is standing and taking a sip of port after every toast. So everyone at this table is slowly getting drunk with sip after sip of port, and anecdote after anecdote of everyone's first impressions of Oxford. It was hysterical (Yes, I had to make a toast. I was literally the last person. I thought I was going to slip by unnoticed, but Aimee toasted me. That beezy. So I made a pathetic, somewhat rambling and uninspiring toast to who knows what. Trust me, it was bad. Give me a script and I'm great. Ask me to improvise... *shakes head*). So that was definitely an experience that I will remember for years to come. :) After the dinner was over, we went pub hopping and met up with the other members of 222 and 224 Abingdon that had had their fancy dinner on Monday night. There were drunken Irish men singing very loudly in the pub that we ended up in. It was wonderful. :) (Gosh, that's a long section. Told you it was a busy day.)


Moving on to Thursday, I began by dropping of my laptop to finally be fixed (And thank the Lord, Emmett is back to his normal self and I now type to you on him (twss).). Then, after getting a bit lost, I met my primary tutor for the first time. Okay time for another timeout:
I am not taking scheduled classes with other students here at Oxford. I am instead meeting with two different tutors one-on-one, once a week. Basically, I meet with my tutor initially to figure out more specifically what we'll be studying over the term. Then I get assigned lots of reading and a 2,000 word essay to prepare for our next meeting in a week. Over the week, I read until I want to vomit, and then I write my essay. I meet with my tutor, turn in my essay, discuss it, expand beyond it, and then get assigned a massive reading list and essay for the following week. Lather, rinse, repeat. This type of studying affords for very thorough coverage of a very narrow topic. Much different than how education is approached in the States.
So yeah, I met my primary tutor, Richard Rowley, for the first time on Thursday evening. Initial impressions: 1) I got lost because we met at his flat, aka: his place of residence. It was a little odd to meet with a teacher where they live... kind of like an episode of The Twilight Zone. And, 2) He is much younger than I was expecting. I imagined some wizened old Oxford scholar, but he's probably in his early 30's. This also played into my Twilight Zone complex. But other than being slightly weirded out (by the situation, not by him... don't worry, he's not sketchy at all), he seems like a very knowledgeable and cool guy. I think that we'll have some great discussions about Shakespeare, which is what my tutorial with him is about. My first essay is about the soliloquy, specifically in Hamlet and King Richard III. Like I said, very specific and thorough studying. That evening, after my meeting with Richard, I went to the student night at a church I had attended on Sunday. I unfortunately got there a bit early, and the doors weren't open yet, so I was left alone with my awkward self not knowing what to do while everyone else who was early talked, because they knew each other. Luckily, a lovely girl named Anna had mercy on my poor, awkward personage and introduced herself. :) I absolutely loved the student night. There was delicious food, excellent worship, and a meaty sermon. AND friendly people that weren't fazed by my super quiet shyness of not knowing anyone. Success! Between the Sunday service and the student night, I have found the home church in Oxford. :) Oh, and on the way home that night, a homeless man asked me if I wanted to dance. I politely declined.


So pretty much since Thursday, I have been reading for my tutorials in various cafes and the Bod, which I really like. It's an excellent place to power through some reading in peace. After all, I don't have to worry about arsonists waltzing into the place and lighting it up like a Christmas tree.


I actually have a bit more that I could wax poetical about, but my writing abilities for the night/morning are drained. So until next time folks.


Grace and peace.