Dear friends,
I have almost completed my second week of tutorials. I kind of feel as though this experience may end up being akin to working at summer camp in that you hate it so much, but it's still so good. I often feel as though academia is comprised of 99% angst and 1% pure joy. However, that 1% of pure joy makes the 99% of pure angst worth it in some masochistic way.
I left my tutorial this morning rife with angst. It may have been because while I wasn't looking, Albus Andrew slipped a note into my folder that read thusly:
"Dear Sara,
You suck at life.
Sincerely,
Albus Andrew"
Okay, maybe that didn't actually happen, but it did in my mind. In order to bring surcease to my perceived pain, I bought highlighters and cadbury eggs and looked at trashy British Valentine's cards. After this, I felt much better. I think I may have to give myself an allowance of 2 or 3 pounds that I can spend after my tutorial so I can eat my feelings or lose my identity in materialism.
One thing that though seemingly minor struck me as a big deal during this tutorial is that when I used the word "lambastes" in my essay, he crossed out the 'e.' Upon checking the spelling on dictionary.com and fnding out that I had in fact been correct, I lamented:
"Albus Andrew! I am not so much of a daft fool that I spelled a word wrong on my first page in my second sentence! I would never do that! I mean, I don't know if you've perhaps heard about me, but I'm kind of a big deal in the spelling bee world--I've competed in 9 formal spelling bees! Please Albus Andrew, I know I suck at life, but I do NOT spell words wrong in my essays."
Yes, this was exceedingly minor compared to my vast lack of knowledge about Judaism, the topic about which he wished to discuss in depth, but since it was something I could have control over, I will likely dwell on it forever.
In other news, I spent 45 minutes in Starbucks on Tuesday morning listening to a presumably CRAZY man. As I was reading diligently, he came up to me and asked if he might sit in the chair across from me. Considering that there was an empty comfy chair beside me, while all the other chairs were just well, chairs, I figured he just really wanted to sit in a comfy chair. I told him that he could of course sit there and then re-inserted my earbuds and continued to read diligently. The man in question then proceeded to clear his throat and start talking about the weather until I took out my earbuds out and looked at him. This, in retrospect, was a mistake. He asked me what I was studying and when I told him theology, he asked me when my birthday was.
"December," I replied.
"What day?"
"the 23rd"
"what year?"
"1986"
(Should I be delineating the nuances of my birthdate for this strange man who told me he was British but definitely has an accent I can't understand?)
"Oh, well that makes sense that you would be studying theology if you were born on that day."
He then proceeded to tell me about the planet Venus and how I could tell what direction in which the sun rose. This led him into a disastrously long story about a prime minister, which in turn caused him to remember the time he had met Elvis Presley on the streets of Oxford when Elvis was a young boy. During all of this, he never once stopped talking. I quickly realized that I was not going to be able to return to my diligent reading, and stated plotting means of escape. As I began making obvious moves toward leaving, such as packing up my bag and picking up my coat, he asked me what kind of music I liked. At this point, my comments were terse:
"I don't know, I don't really listen to popular music."
"Oh, classical? Like the Austrian Orchestra?"
"Sure."
And, as any seemingly rational person would do, he then began to discuss the Austrian-Hungary empire.
Sweet Lord, I thought I might be on Candid Camera and that perhaps he was doing an experiment to see just how long someone would sit there and listen to his nonsense. I finally realized there was no way I could make an exit without being rude as there were simply no breaks in his speaking. I finally got so frustrated that I just stood up in the middle of his story and told him I needed to go meet some friends.
"It's been really nice talking with you, but I have to go meet some friends."
"Oh okay, well, we'll meet again here sometime okay?"
Okay crazy man. I'll look forward to that.
I think that I need to be having more fun. Considering that my best will really never be good enough, I really should do more things besides reading and writing. I don't know. This programme is CRAZY. It's so weird. It's like a cesspool of angst that freaky nerds enjoy. Today I was pondering whether or not an Oxford reality show would be really good or so intensely boring that not even the participants would watch it. I think there's a distinct possibilities that the confessionals could be pretty good, or whatever they call those when one person goes into a little room and talks about themselves and the other people. I think it would be fun to get everyone in this programme together and find out why their twisted background caused them to be such freaks who are obsessed with knowledge and success. I mean, maybe I could find these things out by asking, but that would involve me talking to people.
So, in terms of activities that I plan to engage in during my time here, I am joining no clubs, taking no dance classes, and attending no rowing practices. I have done these kinds of things all of my life. I want to not do them. Not doing those things is an activity in and of itself. Thus, I am doing 2 minor things with some of the others in my program. Once a week, I am reading the Bible aloud with some others in community, and once a week I am attending a Greek Bible study. Now you might be thinking to yourselves, "Wow, has Sara found religion?" "Good for her!" The answer is no. I have indeed not. I would like to state firmly that even though I am engaging in these Bible type things, I am not a crazy evangelical. Not. a. crazy. evangelical.
In the Greek Bible study, we're actually going through Mark, which is exactly what we were doing in the Greek club we formed on campus a year ago. The only difference is, some people came that don't know a lick of Greek (daft fools, did you read the email? We don't want you.), and so we also had to talk about spiritual and theological implications. Thus, the time slipped precariously into what I'd like to call "D-group mood." You know what I'm talking about, when people like to say whatever comes to their head, regardless of whether or not it pertains to the discussion. This means that within an hour and a half, we talked about fallen angels (which aren't even in the Bible), baptism, and speaking in tongues. Goodness did this make me angsty. All I wanted to talk about was syntax and verb forms.
I have realized why I perhaps feel angsty a lot here. It's likely because I have a lot of time to think while I make long walks alone. At home, I prefer to have no time to myself because thinking is a dangerous thing. I'd prefer to be busy all the time so that I don't have to be left alone with my own thoughts. This is why I never understand people who have problems; I always just tell them to get another job. I think, really, that getting another job is a solution to a lot of things in life. It's too bad more people aren't more like me eh?
Well, I have Greek tutorial #1 tomorrow with Albus Jonathan. I hope that goes well. I should perhaps go and brush up on my paradigms.
Best,
Sara
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Dear friends,
I attended my first official Oxford tutorial today. Having said this, I realize that I have, for the most part, failed to actually explain to most of you what I am doing here. Well, I am collectively doing not much of anything alongside a level of work more substantial than I have ever engaged in previously.
Therefore, allow me to give a brief and boring sketch of my actual academic obligations while here at Oxford. Perhaps to jazz up the presentation, the material would be best outlined through dialogue.
I attended my first official Oxford tutorial today. Having said this, I realize that I have, for the most part, failed to actually explain to most of you what I am doing here. Well, I am collectively doing not much of anything alongside a level of work more substantial than I have ever engaged in previously.
Therefore, allow me to give a brief and boring sketch of my actual academic obligations while here at Oxford. Perhaps to jazz up the presentation, the material would be best outlined through dialogue.
Q&A / Important points to remember:
Q: "Dude, like how many hours do you, like, go to class each day?"
A: "Yes, thank you for your question. The simplest answer to that is zero. I do not attend class."
Q: "Dude, you don't go to class? Aren't you going to, like, fail and screw your chances of graduating summa cum laude? I mean, you already handed away your honors cords when you went through that severe stint of senioritis and dropped your honors research, don't you think you should step it up a notch? C'mon Dude, I thought Oxford was BA."
A: "Yes, that is a very good point you make when you assert that Oxford is BA. Oxford is indeed one of the most BA environments in which I've spent a good amount of time. Nevertheless, unlike most British universities, Oxford and Cambridge retain a system of schooling that is based largely on a tutorial."
Q: "Dude, is a tutorial, like, when you learn not to handle blood-borne pathogens or beat the elderly? Yeah, I'm totally familiar with a tutorial."
A: "Right, yes. Well, I'm sorry to say that you're entirely wrong. A tutorial consists of a one-on-one meeting between a tutor and a student. Thus, I reckon you could say it's like a class, as long as you remove your definition of 'class' from the compartmentalized, Western setting you're used to."
Q: "That's sweet, dude. So how often do you meet with your tutor dudes and do they all look like Albus Dumbledore?"
A: "Yes, good question. Of course they all look like Albus. I walk into my tutor's study, and I say 'Sup Albie? Can I pet your beard? Wanna talk about Jesus?' I meet with my gospels tutor, whose name is Albus Andrew, once a week for an hour. I then meet with my Greek tutor, whose name is Albus Jonathan, once every two weeks for an hour."
Q: "Dude, you only go to class 6 hours a month?"
A: "Yes, that is correct."
Q: "Dude, that's freakin' sweet"
A: "Dude, I know."
Q: "But I thought the flier said Oxford would be the most intense thing you'd ever done and that you would likely die?"
A: "The flier indeed speaks of many voluntarily maiming themselves to escape the program. This is confusing to me thus far as, on the whole, I have been relatively stress-free about academic matters."
Q: "You? Not stressed about school? That's ludicrous!"
A: "Indeed, indeed it is."
Q: "So basically you never do anything? You're spending 7 years of wages to do nothing?"
A: "I think, specifically, the 7 years of wages were used to print my name on my library card. Nonetheless, it seems that even though my schedule is almost entirely open, I actually keep quite busy, what with attending lectures that pique my interest, walking 45 minutes in order to get anywhere, and occasionally spending hours in a corner with a book."
Q: "So, is that what your entire term will look like?"
A: "No, but I don't want to talk about it yet because that part isn't as exciting."
Q: "Wow dude, thanks for the chat. I feel as though we're besties now."
A: "Besties we are...Besties we are."
Therein concludes this portion of the discourse. I hope it was informative.
Given this background knowledge, I would now like to tell you a little bit about my tutorial today. My tutor is brilliant, articulate, and an otherwise amicable fellow. It seems as if some people have tutors that are brilliant, but are a bit awkward and not skilled in speaking with a real person. In this regard, I feel quite fortunate.
Perhaps regaling you with the tale of last night's paper writing scene would be good. As per my routine, I didn't start writing my essay until the day before it was due. This is not new. I can almost never write until I am stressed. I thrive on stress. However, I planned to spend all day writing and thus thought I perhaps might be able to get some sleep before my tutorial. Nonetheless, given the combination of my procrastination and perfectionism, I had only around 3.5 pages by midnight, and I was aiming for 8. Let it be known that I am the slowest paper writer in the history of ever. You think I would get better at it, but I continually fail in my attempts to simply spill material onto paper. I do not know what a rough draft is, and I never find a need to edit my papers upon completion. Several times at Northwestern, I was assigned to write a rough draft, and I found the exercise to be an absurd request. It doesn't make sense to me that you would not strive for perfection the first time around. So, it was clearly going to be a long night. Luckily, I was quite alert and had a roommate to keep me company, as she was also pulling an all-nighter in preparation for her upcoming tutorial. Fortunately, I finished my paper at approximately half past 5.00. I needed to be at my tutorial by 9.00. I was happy about my early finish as that meant I might catch some sleep before heading into the city.
It is at this point that the story lapses into what I'd like to call: "That Damn Printing Episode." Friends, I first tried to print my paper around 5.30, and I failed to succeed at this task until 7.15.
Q: "Wow, that sounds like a blasted, terrible episode."
A: "It most certainly was."
Thus, as I trudged through the morning rain on my way to tutorial #1, I wondered if I was perhaps getting off to a bad start. However, I then arrived, was invited into Albus Andrew's study and offered a cup of tea, and settled upon the couch by the fireplace and Jesus books. At this point, Albus Andrew and I began with friendly small talk, as he enquired as to how my week was going and if I was getting to know my way around the libraries yet. It was at this point that I decided that he was quite a nice chap and that we were going to get along quite well.
To officially begin our tutorial, he had me read my paper aloud to him while he scrawled comments on to his copy. Here, I realized that perhaps another proofread might have been in order, as I noticed a few minor errors that simply shouldn't have been there. I also noticed that I had used the word "hypothesis" in my paper roughly 300 times, and "hypothesis" is not a word that rolls smoothly off the tongue when reading aloud.
When I finished reading, Albus Andrew and I engaged in stimulating discussion about the nuances of the synoptic problem. A lot of the things he pointed out in my paper were instances of my rhetoric glossing over an issue. I am usually quite conscious of what my words might be conveying in the first few pages of my paper, but as it gets later and later, I start to be much less conscious of such things. All in all, I did not feel like a daft fool. Of this I was most glad. I was more or less able to respond to his questions competently. Not brilliantly, but competently. He ended up talking for most of the hour, which I did not expect as I had been expecting to have to really talk quite a bit myself. Needless to say, I was not upset. I could sit there and listen to him for hours. Well, maybe not for hours because I was running on no sleep, but he is fascinating.
At the end of our session, I asked him if I was perhaps heading in the right direction in terms of how to properly write an Oxford essay. I don't remember exactly what he said, but it was some string of affirmations that I was indeed not a daft fool. Joy.
I am quite excited to progress through these tutorials. My question for next week is: "Account for Matthew's relation to Judaism, and to Israel. Is his Gospel anti-Semitic?"
Listening to Albus Andrew talk inspired me to elevate careful reflection over reading for my next essay. Clearly, reading is important, but my own reflection and processing is perhaps more important. It is quite nice that I have someone responding to my writing that really doesn't know me at all. At Northwestern, I mostly felt as though I put on a facade of intelligence that no one ever called me out on. I generally felt the need to confess to my professors that I really wasn't smart, but just obsessed with "success." I also often felt that I was given A's largely because I was "Sara Moser." I am really quite excited to be evaluated here by people who have not interacted with me so I can see whether or not I am actually capable of doing these academic things. Don't get me wrong, I always felt that my professors at Northwestern were really hard-core and not apt to be fooled by my manipulative tricks. However, I think I came to recognize that I write in such a way that my rhetoric glosses over my incompetence. Sometimes I would write an entire paper and still not have any idea what I had said, but would receive high marks for it. I guess what I'm saying is that I want people to tell me that I'm stupid?
Well, that is not what I want. That would cause pain. I'm not sure; I just feel as though I want people to more critically evaluate my work, and the one-on-one setting here should be quite conducive to this desire.
Thank you for bearing with me through this ridiculously long and boring post. I swear I think of interesting things to blog about throughout the day; I just forget them all by the time I actually sit down to type. Perhaps I will carry a notebook around throughout the day so I can entertain you more adequately.
Best,
Sara
Monday, January 19, 2009
Dear friends,
I can make lattes now. After 11 days in Oxford, I have finally managed to attain coffee beans and milk. My life's dream has been to have an espresso machine in my home. Now is that time. I, in fact, have an espresso machine. Praise the Lord.
I went to London on Saturday. It was one of those "I'm in a group of 50 people walking really quickly and taking pictures of buildings even though I don't know what they are and I'm really thirsty and can you please speak up Mr. Tour Guide please?" trips. I don't regret going, but the trip allowed me to confirm what I have known for a while now. I don't particularly care for traveling. I know that makes me sound like a terrible person. Anyone that is in any sense cool or cultured loves traveling. Alas, traveling only makes me angsty. I don't care for big cities; I am doing better with being in Oxford, but that's because I now navigate the city on my own terms.
I had to use a map the other day. And dang if I didn't find out that doing so is actually really useful. Who would have thought? I'm even catching on to the art of turning the map in the proper direction as you turn on to a new street. I pulled out the map when I was on my way to my first meeting with my Greek tutor because I gradually realized that I had been given faulty directions. Pretty soon, I only had 15 minutes until I was supposed to meet him, and I had no idea where I was. Thus, I decided to try that newfangled map idea that everyone is so fond of and it seemed to work. It was a dang miracle that I arrived where I was supposed to arrive.
Today was day one of term one. That means that summer camp time is over, and it's time to get hard-core. I have been feeling not too stressed because my Greek tutor didn't assign me too much work, and the synoptic problem is a quite tangible essay project. However, I found out today that the lecture my Greek tutor suggested I go to is a NT Greek reading class. Thus, I think (but am not sure) that I might not be able to sit anonymously in the corner but might be expected to take a turn in translating. I emailed the guy that is facilitating, and he told me to prepare the first chapter of 2nd Peter. Maybe once I apply myself to this task, it won't be so daunting, but since I haven't seriously taken Greek in 2 years, the prospect of whipping out a chapter's worth of translation in 3 days is really stressing me out. Whatev. It will be outrageously good for me, especially come fall when I attempt to pass out of first year Greek at seminary.
Ha, fun story. I had my "GREEK: An Intensive Course" book sitting on the table next to me at dinner this evening. This prompted a discussion with a guy in the program who had taken Greek in the past and who informed me he planned to go to seminary. Our conversation went like this:
Sara: Do you know where you'd like to go?
Guy: Oh yeah. Westminster Theological School. I love that school. My dad went there.
Sara: Really? Is that affiliated with the Reformed tradition?
Guy: Yeah I think so. It's really, really academic. I mean, ya know how Princeton is really academic but really liberal? Well, Westminster is like Princeton but it's the conservative counterpart.
Sara: Oh that really interesting because I'm pretty sure I'll be attending Princeton in the fall.
Guy: Oh! I guess I was just kind of talking bad about it huh?
Sara: That's okay, you can be the conservative academic, and I'll be the liberal one.
I wore my "Embrace your inner liberal" shirt the other day. A few people commented, but most people just directed lingering glances at my chest. I can't wait to whip out my "WTFWJD" shirt.
On Sunday night, I attended evensong at University College, which is where my gospels tutor is a chaplain. I more or less went because I wanted to hear him preach so I could understand his context better in order to perhaps more adequately cater to his wishes. I am really quite good at manipulative little tricks like that. Nonetheless, I don't always reckon it to be manipulative as I tend to think that doing such things is just essential to success in academia. Although some continue to think that I'm besties with my profs for the sake of good grades, I'm really actually just besties for the sake of being besties. After the service, we went and drank a small glass of sherry while chatting with a kind student that also attends Wycliffe Hall (that's the college I'm at, btw). I was quite eager to sip the sherry and act like a grown-up, but I quickly realized that it was perhaps the worst thing I'd ever tasted. I thus proceeded to a different plan: 1.) open throat 2.) throw back liquid as if taking mini shots.
This worked.
Next time I will drink the orange juice.
Today was my first experience in one of the very important, prestigious libraries. Once I stepped through the door, I proceeded to look very foolish for about the first 20 minutes. Wow do I not know how to do things properly in there. Phew. Furthermore, it was the most distracting library in which I have ever spent time. This was unexpected. I had been prepared to timidly forge my way through stifling silence, but dude, it was so loud! It's not that anyone was talking, but people tend to walk very quickly over here, and they wear boots. Thus, there was a lot of foot-stomping and book-slamming. I read diligently for about 2.5 hours and then could not take it anymore. I had to get out of there for the sake of my sanity. At least in the Northwestern library, most of the people that were in there were my friends so I could say to them: "Excuse me, but you are being a huge douchebag. Would you please stop being a huge douchebag?" However, I thought that doing such might be rude in this context.
Instead, I went home and decided to grind my coffee beans--a task that seemed like it'd be a good, quick study break. I think it took me an hour and 15 minutes. Ridiculous! I kept thinking of the 30 seconds it would have taken me to do at the Hoek.
In other news, there is currently (or maybe not anymore) a 4 foot inflatable penguin in the back room at De Koffie Hoek that is named Sara Moser. Of this I am unspeakably happy.
Tomorrow morning has the potential to be absolutely grand. I plan to attend a lecture at 9.00 addressing Textual Criticism and a lecture at 10.00 addressing the Historical Jesus--two subjects of which I am most fond.
In other news, nothing is incredibly exciting right now, but I am so okay with that. I have had way too much excitement lately and am terribly excited to settle into the mundane.
On that note, happy inauguration day tomorrow.
Best,
Sara
I can make lattes now. After 11 days in Oxford, I have finally managed to attain coffee beans and milk. My life's dream has been to have an espresso machine in my home. Now is that time. I, in fact, have an espresso machine. Praise the Lord.
I went to London on Saturday. It was one of those "I'm in a group of 50 people walking really quickly and taking pictures of buildings even though I don't know what they are and I'm really thirsty and can you please speak up Mr. Tour Guide please?" trips. I don't regret going, but the trip allowed me to confirm what I have known for a while now. I don't particularly care for traveling. I know that makes me sound like a terrible person. Anyone that is in any sense cool or cultured loves traveling. Alas, traveling only makes me angsty. I don't care for big cities; I am doing better with being in Oxford, but that's because I now navigate the city on my own terms.
I had to use a map the other day. And dang if I didn't find out that doing so is actually really useful. Who would have thought? I'm even catching on to the art of turning the map in the proper direction as you turn on to a new street. I pulled out the map when I was on my way to my first meeting with my Greek tutor because I gradually realized that I had been given faulty directions. Pretty soon, I only had 15 minutes until I was supposed to meet him, and I had no idea where I was. Thus, I decided to try that newfangled map idea that everyone is so fond of and it seemed to work. It was a dang miracle that I arrived where I was supposed to arrive.
Today was day one of term one. That means that summer camp time is over, and it's time to get hard-core. I have been feeling not too stressed because my Greek tutor didn't assign me too much work, and the synoptic problem is a quite tangible essay project. However, I found out today that the lecture my Greek tutor suggested I go to is a NT Greek reading class. Thus, I think (but am not sure) that I might not be able to sit anonymously in the corner but might be expected to take a turn in translating. I emailed the guy that is facilitating, and he told me to prepare the first chapter of 2nd Peter. Maybe once I apply myself to this task, it won't be so daunting, but since I haven't seriously taken Greek in 2 years, the prospect of whipping out a chapter's worth of translation in 3 days is really stressing me out. Whatev. It will be outrageously good for me, especially come fall when I attempt to pass out of first year Greek at seminary.
Ha, fun story. I had my "GREEK: An Intensive Course" book sitting on the table next to me at dinner this evening. This prompted a discussion with a guy in the program who had taken Greek in the past and who informed me he planned to go to seminary. Our conversation went like this:
Sara: Do you know where you'd like to go?
Guy: Oh yeah. Westminster Theological School. I love that school. My dad went there.
Sara: Really? Is that affiliated with the Reformed tradition?
Guy: Yeah I think so. It's really, really academic. I mean, ya know how Princeton is really academic but really liberal? Well, Westminster is like Princeton but it's the conservative counterpart.
Sara: Oh that really interesting because I'm pretty sure I'll be attending Princeton in the fall.
Guy: Oh! I guess I was just kind of talking bad about it huh?
Sara: That's okay, you can be the conservative academic, and I'll be the liberal one.
I wore my "Embrace your inner liberal" shirt the other day. A few people commented, but most people just directed lingering glances at my chest. I can't wait to whip out my "WTFWJD" shirt.
On Sunday night, I attended evensong at University College, which is where my gospels tutor is a chaplain. I more or less went because I wanted to hear him preach so I could understand his context better in order to perhaps more adequately cater to his wishes. I am really quite good at manipulative little tricks like that. Nonetheless, I don't always reckon it to be manipulative as I tend to think that doing such things is just essential to success in academia. Although some continue to think that I'm besties with my profs for the sake of good grades, I'm really actually just besties for the sake of being besties. After the service, we went and drank a small glass of sherry while chatting with a kind student that also attends Wycliffe Hall (that's the college I'm at, btw). I was quite eager to sip the sherry and act like a grown-up, but I quickly realized that it was perhaps the worst thing I'd ever tasted. I thus proceeded to a different plan: 1.) open throat 2.) throw back liquid as if taking mini shots.
This worked.
Next time I will drink the orange juice.
Today was my first experience in one of the very important, prestigious libraries. Once I stepped through the door, I proceeded to look very foolish for about the first 20 minutes. Wow do I not know how to do things properly in there. Phew. Furthermore, it was the most distracting library in which I have ever spent time. This was unexpected. I had been prepared to timidly forge my way through stifling silence, but dude, it was so loud! It's not that anyone was talking, but people tend to walk very quickly over here, and they wear boots. Thus, there was a lot of foot-stomping and book-slamming. I read diligently for about 2.5 hours and then could not take it anymore. I had to get out of there for the sake of my sanity. At least in the Northwestern library, most of the people that were in there were my friends so I could say to them: "Excuse me, but you are being a huge douchebag. Would you please stop being a huge douchebag?" However, I thought that doing such might be rude in this context.
Instead, I went home and decided to grind my coffee beans--a task that seemed like it'd be a good, quick study break. I think it took me an hour and 15 minutes. Ridiculous! I kept thinking of the 30 seconds it would have taken me to do at the Hoek.
In other news, there is currently (or maybe not anymore) a 4 foot inflatable penguin in the back room at De Koffie Hoek that is named Sara Moser. Of this I am unspeakably happy.
Tomorrow morning has the potential to be absolutely grand. I plan to attend a lecture at 9.00 addressing Textual Criticism and a lecture at 10.00 addressing the Historical Jesus--two subjects of which I am most fond.
In other news, nothing is incredibly exciting right now, but I am so okay with that. I have had way too much excitement lately and am terribly excited to settle into the mundane.
On that note, happy inauguration day tomorrow.
Best,
Sara
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Who knew Marilyn and Harry lived so close to each other?
First things first:
My address is:
SCIO
2 Frewin Court
Oxford
OX1 3HZ
United Kingdom
I don't want to allude to anything, so I'll just say it. Send me mail. Because if you send me mail, I will be very happy and will also feel obligated to send you mail back. That equals two happy people and if we're proponents of utilitarianism, then basically you should send me mail.
However, no packages please. It's complicated, what with customs, so it's best to just not send them. I do believe large envelopes are acceptable though.
In other news, orientation has gotten substantially better the last two days because we've started to actually do things rather than just talk about them. I met my tutor today. His name is Revd. Dr. Andrew Gregory, and he is a chaplain who also seems to dabble (probably not just dabble) in NT scholarship. I met with him along with the other girl in my program who will be doing the same thing. This was fortunate for me and unfortunate for her as I actually have a background in studying the new testament, and she is more or less taking the class for fun. Thus, after finding out our backgrounds and familiarity with material, he would ask the other girl questions which she was unable to answer, and then ask me to answer them when she couldn't. Awkward.
Nonetheless, I felt at least halfway competent that I could provide responses to relatively straightforward questions such as:
When would you date the gospels?
Would you place Paul's letters before or after the gospels?
Do you think the author of the gospel of John also wrote the Johannine epistles? What about Revelation?
Thank you Vonder Bruegge. Thanks to you, responding to his questions was a breeze.
I am still a little bit confused about how the whole essay process works out. For instance, the question I will address this week is: "What is the synoptic problem, what theological and historical issues does it raise, and how best might it be resolved?" Now, if you are a religion major at Northwestern College, you are perhaps thinking, "that sounds ridiculously easy. We would never be given such a straightforward paper assignment at Northwestern!" To this I respond, "Dude, I know!" Ever since I presented that paper at the regional SBL, I have operated on the assumption that if I am not attempting, at least in some small way, to be making some contribution to scholarship, then what I am doing is not good enough. Here, though, it has been emphasized over and over that our purpose is to ANSWER THE QUESTION that has been given to us. That is first and foremost our perogative before any creative freedom is allowed. Frankly, I'm still not sure creative freedom is quite allowed. I'll find out soon I guess.
Anyway, I expressed some of these sentiments to Dr. Gregory, and he seemed to think it absurd for an undergraduate to have the ambitions of contribution to scholarship. Thus, I'm confused because if I'm not striving to do something substantial, isn't that just a research paper? And isn't a research paper easy? I mean, I knew the NW Rel Dept. was BA, but is it that BA? Nonetheless, they've prepared me well, and I feel quite confident to take on these essays.
In other news, (this is probably all very boring to some of you, but I know it's fascinating to others of you), I have discovered the joy of Oxford University Lectures. These lecture options make me feel almost okay about leaving the joys of the religion department behind. The gist of it is that I am allowed to attend any lecture series that I so desire. It's like being at the national SBL for 8 weeks but even better because people aren't just dryly presenting papers on incredibly absurd topics, they're giving a series of lectures that is like a mini class for which you don't have to do any work. It's learning for the sake of learning! Thus, next week I will go to as many lectures as I can feasibly fit in to see which are worth continuing and which aren't. Topics I plan to hit up include: The Historical Jesus, Synoptic Parallels, Textual Criticism, Christianity in Rome: From Romans to Constantine. I also think I will peruse topics of interest such as: Religions and Mythologies of the Ancient Near East, American Presidential Religion and Warfare, Aspects of the Study of the OT prophets, and so on.
I was actually just sitting around the other day thinking, "Gosh I need to learn about Rome. When am I going to learn about Rome?" Well now I can totally learn about Rome! Dude, I'm so excited.
I really do think I would be quite content studying the entire time I'm here. However, I know that would disappoint many of you, and that's why I really will try to make some friends so I can go out and do things once and a while. However, the weekend is coming up and mostly expect to spend it devoting attention to my reading list. That's okay right? It will be fun, I promise!
So, before I got here, I simply didn't know what would take up my time here. I thought not having a job would be the most dreadful thing ever. However, I have now replaced working with walking. Walking is a part-time job because it takes up about as much time. I might get a bus pass someday, but for now I'm trying to save the 80 pounds and just walk. This is time-consuming though, because my house is 45 minutes away from anything. So, if I go out for the day, I will not go home until I am ready to stay home for the night. Hopefully I will find some places around town to hang out and read.
Hmm, well I did really important cool things today such as see where Marilyn McCord Adams lives (amazing) and see the Harry Potter staircase and great hall (amazing). Nonetheless, this blog entry is probably too long to go any farther tonite. I know I'm supposed to be kind to my readers and not write such long entries, but that's really my call eh? I figure you'll skim what's not of interest to you anyway (aka...much of the biblical studies jargon). Well, have a brilliant weekend.
Best,
Sara
My address is:
SCIO
2 Frewin Court
Oxford
OX1 3HZ
United Kingdom
I don't want to allude to anything, so I'll just say it. Send me mail. Because if you send me mail, I will be very happy and will also feel obligated to send you mail back. That equals two happy people and if we're proponents of utilitarianism, then basically you should send me mail.
However, no packages please. It's complicated, what with customs, so it's best to just not send them. I do believe large envelopes are acceptable though.
In other news, orientation has gotten substantially better the last two days because we've started to actually do things rather than just talk about them. I met my tutor today. His name is Revd. Dr. Andrew Gregory, and he is a chaplain who also seems to dabble (probably not just dabble) in NT scholarship. I met with him along with the other girl in my program who will be doing the same thing. This was fortunate for me and unfortunate for her as I actually have a background in studying the new testament, and she is more or less taking the class for fun. Thus, after finding out our backgrounds and familiarity with material, he would ask the other girl questions which she was unable to answer, and then ask me to answer them when she couldn't. Awkward.
Nonetheless, I felt at least halfway competent that I could provide responses to relatively straightforward questions such as:
When would you date the gospels?
Would you place Paul's letters before or after the gospels?
Do you think the author of the gospel of John also wrote the Johannine epistles? What about Revelation?
Thank you Vonder Bruegge. Thanks to you, responding to his questions was a breeze.
I am still a little bit confused about how the whole essay process works out. For instance, the question I will address this week is: "What is the synoptic problem, what theological and historical issues does it raise, and how best might it be resolved?" Now, if you are a religion major at Northwestern College, you are perhaps thinking, "that sounds ridiculously easy. We would never be given such a straightforward paper assignment at Northwestern!" To this I respond, "Dude, I know!" Ever since I presented that paper at the regional SBL, I have operated on the assumption that if I am not attempting, at least in some small way, to be making some contribution to scholarship, then what I am doing is not good enough. Here, though, it has been emphasized over and over that our purpose is to ANSWER THE QUESTION that has been given to us. That is first and foremost our perogative before any creative freedom is allowed. Frankly, I'm still not sure creative freedom is quite allowed. I'll find out soon I guess.
Anyway, I expressed some of these sentiments to Dr. Gregory, and he seemed to think it absurd for an undergraduate to have the ambitions of contribution to scholarship. Thus, I'm confused because if I'm not striving to do something substantial, isn't that just a research paper? And isn't a research paper easy? I mean, I knew the NW Rel Dept. was BA, but is it that BA? Nonetheless, they've prepared me well, and I feel quite confident to take on these essays.
In other news, (this is probably all very boring to some of you, but I know it's fascinating to others of you), I have discovered the joy of Oxford University Lectures. These lecture options make me feel almost okay about leaving the joys of the religion department behind. The gist of it is that I am allowed to attend any lecture series that I so desire. It's like being at the national SBL for 8 weeks but even better because people aren't just dryly presenting papers on incredibly absurd topics, they're giving a series of lectures that is like a mini class for which you don't have to do any work. It's learning for the sake of learning! Thus, next week I will go to as many lectures as I can feasibly fit in to see which are worth continuing and which aren't. Topics I plan to hit up include: The Historical Jesus, Synoptic Parallels, Textual Criticism, Christianity in Rome: From Romans to Constantine. I also think I will peruse topics of interest such as: Religions and Mythologies of the Ancient Near East, American Presidential Religion and Warfare, Aspects of the Study of the OT prophets, and so on.
I was actually just sitting around the other day thinking, "Gosh I need to learn about Rome. When am I going to learn about Rome?" Well now I can totally learn about Rome! Dude, I'm so excited.
I really do think I would be quite content studying the entire time I'm here. However, I know that would disappoint many of you, and that's why I really will try to make some friends so I can go out and do things once and a while. However, the weekend is coming up and mostly expect to spend it devoting attention to my reading list. That's okay right? It will be fun, I promise!
So, before I got here, I simply didn't know what would take up my time here. I thought not having a job would be the most dreadful thing ever. However, I have now replaced working with walking. Walking is a part-time job because it takes up about as much time. I might get a bus pass someday, but for now I'm trying to save the 80 pounds and just walk. This is time-consuming though, because my house is 45 minutes away from anything. So, if I go out for the day, I will not go home until I am ready to stay home for the night. Hopefully I will find some places around town to hang out and read.
Hmm, well I did really important cool things today such as see where Marilyn McCord Adams lives (amazing) and see the Harry Potter staircase and great hall (amazing). Nonetheless, this blog entry is probably too long to go any farther tonite. I know I'm supposed to be kind to my readers and not write such long entries, but that's really my call eh? I figure you'll skim what's not of interest to you anyway (aka...much of the biblical studies jargon). Well, have a brilliant weekend.
Best,
Sara
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
"Welcome to Oxford: Where Your Best is Never Good Enough." Orientation commenced with the program staff reiterating these exact words over and over to us.
So you might assume that I haven't updated since I got here because I've been busy, but it's really just because I've been excessively angsty and didn't figure my posts would be all too positive. I really haven't been too busy; I've mostly been incredibly bored.
Monday was the start of one week of orientation. One week! Crazy! However, seeing as we take 3 breaks for tea within a 6 hour period, perhaps a week is necessary. Regardless, orientation is perhaps the worst thing ever. You are expected to make friends. Gosh, I hate making friends. I just think it's a terrible thing. I like the having friends part, but I don't like to make them. Also, there are approximately 45 people living in my house. I am not a fan of big groups of people. We all share one kitchen where we are responsible for preparing all of our meals. This means there is no room to do anything in the kitchen because there are many scary people smiling, talking, and cooking. (Doesn't that sound like a horrific scene?) Thus, I don't think I will ever prepare more than a sandwich because that would involve me spending more than 1 minute in the scary kitchen.
Today in orientation, they talked to us about how to write an Oxford essay. There are not words to express the angst I felt during this hour of my life. I feel as though I have the ability to write to write a good essay, but the way they talked, I am almost certainly headed towards failure. The scary but cute English lady that facilitated this portion of orientation informed us that some tutors might expect 6000 word essays every week. In the 18-20 page range.
If my tutor were to expect that, all I would ever do is hurl myself in front of a bus. Over and over again.
As you might be able to tell, I haven't particularly warmed to this city nor to the program. I don't want to say that I hate it, but I can't say that I haven't thought continually throughout the day about how much I hate it here and want to come home. I expect it might get better, but it just seems unfortunate that I left classes, jobs, and people I loved to come somewhere where everything was simply dreadful and incredibly hard. Well...maybe I can at least still shoot for cum laude.
There are 1.5 things here that have made me feel a slight twing of enjoyment.
First, I am still overly delighted to be taking classical Greek. I know that I will not do poorly with it and that I can handle it. I mean, perhaps I will be given a 100 page translation to complete in 2 weeks, but then I would just do the bus thing and it'd all be okay because I'd be dead. Also, my tutor for Greek is the junior dean (RD type person) of the other house for students in the program. That means he is really a jovial person, and I am really quite delighted because I don't feel as though he'll rip me to shreds. I am pretty sure that the pupose of this program is to rip you to shreds in some sadistic approach to encouraging personal growth.
Second, I am excited (.5) about the library system here. If you have no interest in reading the most fascinating library news you've ever heard, then you might want to skip this section because a good amount of words should be devoted to describing the libraries.
There are over 100 libraries in Oxford. I have a University of Oxford card and thus have access to them all--that amounts to around 11 million books to which I have direct access. The main university library is called the Bodleian. It is the shit. The Bodleian "is over 400 years old and is globally acknowledged to be one of the greatest libraries in the world. Its priceless collections include the papers of six British Prime Ministers; a Gutenberg Bible; the earliest surviving book written wholly in English; a quarter of the world’s original copies of the Magna Carta; and almost 10,000 western medieval and renaissance manuscripts" (www.ox.ac.uk).
The Bodleian Group of Libraries have 120 miles of occupied shelving, 29 reading rooms and 2,490 places for readers.
Let me tell you, you may not talk in these libraries. You may not bring in food. You may only drink water out of pre-approved containers. You may not borrow books from the Bodleian. You make a book request online and specify which reading room you'd like the books to go to. At that point, the gnomes travel under the city to pick up the appropriate books and deliver them promptly to your reading room of choice. You then go to that reading room, sit amongst brilliant people, and read.
If your book is located somewhere other than the Bodleian, you must figure out where in the city that library is and go pick it up. This is a very hard endeavor for me because I know where nothing is. Nonetheless, the library system I have access to is a thing of brilliance and having rights to gain access makes me a very fortunate person. I only assigned it .5 worth of excitement because it will be very difficult to become adept at finding and gathering the books I need.
Another point to make: Oxford is a city. I don't think I quite knew this at all. But it's effing huge. I think the reason I am having trouble adjusting is because I don't care at all for city life. I have never even lived in a big town. Crap, I've never even lived in town. Thus, I don't know how to do city-like things such as ride buses, cross streets, and find my way around. I also do not know how to read maps. I could try, and will probably have to at some point, but for now I am just memorizing important routes.
I think this is probably enough information for now eh? I will try to be less angsty and more witty in my next post. For now, cheers!
Best,
Sara
So you might assume that I haven't updated since I got here because I've been busy, but it's really just because I've been excessively angsty and didn't figure my posts would be all too positive. I really haven't been too busy; I've mostly been incredibly bored.
Monday was the start of one week of orientation. One week! Crazy! However, seeing as we take 3 breaks for tea within a 6 hour period, perhaps a week is necessary. Regardless, orientation is perhaps the worst thing ever. You are expected to make friends. Gosh, I hate making friends. I just think it's a terrible thing. I like the having friends part, but I don't like to make them. Also, there are approximately 45 people living in my house. I am not a fan of big groups of people. We all share one kitchen where we are responsible for preparing all of our meals. This means there is no room to do anything in the kitchen because there are many scary people smiling, talking, and cooking. (Doesn't that sound like a horrific scene?) Thus, I don't think I will ever prepare more than a sandwich because that would involve me spending more than 1 minute in the scary kitchen.
Today in orientation, they talked to us about how to write an Oxford essay. There are not words to express the angst I felt during this hour of my life. I feel as though I have the ability to write to write a good essay, but the way they talked, I am almost certainly headed towards failure. The scary but cute English lady that facilitated this portion of orientation informed us that some tutors might expect 6000 word essays every week. In the 18-20 page range.
If my tutor were to expect that, all I would ever do is hurl myself in front of a bus. Over and over again.
As you might be able to tell, I haven't particularly warmed to this city nor to the program. I don't want to say that I hate it, but I can't say that I haven't thought continually throughout the day about how much I hate it here and want to come home. I expect it might get better, but it just seems unfortunate that I left classes, jobs, and people I loved to come somewhere where everything was simply dreadful and incredibly hard. Well...maybe I can at least still shoot for cum laude.
There are 1.5 things here that have made me feel a slight twing of enjoyment.
First, I am still overly delighted to be taking classical Greek. I know that I will not do poorly with it and that I can handle it. I mean, perhaps I will be given a 100 page translation to complete in 2 weeks, but then I would just do the bus thing and it'd all be okay because I'd be dead. Also, my tutor for Greek is the junior dean (RD type person) of the other house for students in the program. That means he is really a jovial person, and I am really quite delighted because I don't feel as though he'll rip me to shreds. I am pretty sure that the pupose of this program is to rip you to shreds in some sadistic approach to encouraging personal growth.
Second, I am excited (.5) about the library system here. If you have no interest in reading the most fascinating library news you've ever heard, then you might want to skip this section because a good amount of words should be devoted to describing the libraries.
There are over 100 libraries in Oxford. I have a University of Oxford card and thus have access to them all--that amounts to around 11 million books to which I have direct access. The main university library is called the Bodleian. It is the shit. The Bodleian "is over 400 years old and is globally acknowledged to be one of the greatest libraries in the world. Its priceless collections include the papers of six British Prime Ministers; a Gutenberg Bible; the earliest surviving book written wholly in English; a quarter of the world’s original copies of the Magna Carta; and almost 10,000 western medieval and renaissance manuscripts" (www.ox.ac.uk).
The Bodleian Group of Libraries have 120 miles of occupied shelving, 29 reading rooms and 2,490 places for readers.
Let me tell you, you may not talk in these libraries. You may not bring in food. You may only drink water out of pre-approved containers. You may not borrow books from the Bodleian. You make a book request online and specify which reading room you'd like the books to go to. At that point, the gnomes travel under the city to pick up the appropriate books and deliver them promptly to your reading room of choice. You then go to that reading room, sit amongst brilliant people, and read.
If your book is located somewhere other than the Bodleian, you must figure out where in the city that library is and go pick it up. This is a very hard endeavor for me because I know where nothing is. Nonetheless, the library system I have access to is a thing of brilliance and having rights to gain access makes me a very fortunate person. I only assigned it .5 worth of excitement because it will be very difficult to become adept at finding and gathering the books I need.
Another point to make: Oxford is a city. I don't think I quite knew this at all. But it's effing huge. I think the reason I am having trouble adjusting is because I don't care at all for city life. I have never even lived in a big town. Crap, I've never even lived in town. Thus, I don't know how to do city-like things such as ride buses, cross streets, and find my way around. I also do not know how to read maps. I could try, and will probably have to at some point, but for now I am just memorizing important routes.
I think this is probably enough information for now eh? I will try to be less angsty and more witty in my next post. For now, cheers!
Best,
Sara
Friday, January 9, 2009
Somehow, by some ridiculous stroke of luck, I made it to Oxford. The angst level was actually the highest in Minneapolis, rather than London like I'd anticipated. It's not that I had any reason to be angsty, but boy was I.
I had decided against taking the fake crutches in an attempt to get the airport people to steer me around on their golf cart, so I now knew for sure that I would die alone in the London airport and that the airport people would think that my collapsed corpse was a cavity for an illegal drug transfer and would chop me up in search of drugs and bombs.
Fortunately, none of that happened.
I in fact did find my luggage quite easily and promptly grabbed a trolley that had presumably been set aside for my travel pleasure. I quickly learned, however, that the trolley had not been put there for me by God, but likely angrily shoved aside by a frustrated traveler that realized that one of the dumb wheels didn't work. Nonetheless, I persevered with the dumb wheel trolley, telling myself that the burn in my arms felt good and the evolutionary ape stance I resorted to in order to push the dumb thing made me look like I was walking with confidence.
Luckily, I had arrived in terminal 4.
The only terminal that my information packet provided no instructions for.
Thus, I had to make it to my pick of teminal 1, 2, 3, or 5.
Now, if you know me well, you know that I have no common sense to speak of. None. At all. This is important to remember as you picture me trying to make my way around the airport with the dumb wheel trolley.
I had decided against taking the fake crutches in an attempt to get the airport people to steer me around on their golf cart, so I now knew for sure that I would die alone in the London airport and that the airport people would think that my collapsed corpse was a cavity for an illegal drug transfer and would chop me up in search of drugs and bombs.
Fortunately, none of that happened.
I in fact did find my luggage quite easily and promptly grabbed a trolley that had presumably been set aside for my travel pleasure. I quickly learned, however, that the trolley had not been put there for me by God, but likely angrily shoved aside by a frustrated traveler that realized that one of the dumb wheels didn't work. Nonetheless, I persevered with the dumb wheel trolley, telling myself that the burn in my arms felt good and the evolutionary ape stance I resorted to in order to push the dumb thing made me look like I was walking with confidence.
Luckily, I had arrived in terminal 4.
The only terminal that my information packet provided no instructions for.
Thus, I had to make it to my pick of teminal 1, 2, 3, or 5.
Now, if you know me well, you know that I have no common sense to speak of. None. At all. This is important to remember as you picture me trying to make my way around the airport with the dumb wheel trolley.
So, I know Jesus says to take the "narrow gate, for wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it" (Matthew 7:13), but well, I decided to take whatever gate my bags fit through. Thus, I started to just get on trains for awhile. Just for the heck of it. I mean, I kind of liked being ridiculously hot and lugging the dumb wheeel trolley around. So after I did the train thing for awhile, I then decided I should maybe be more purposeful about getting to a fruitful destination (aka, the right terminal).
Thus, I leaned over the man on my left and asked him if he could please tell me what terminal I was currently at. It was at this point that I befriended Taj, who helped me eventually get out of the airport. I don't know that he worked at the airport. He may have, but gosh I don't know. Anyway, he was very insistent on helping me carry my luggage so I prayed fervently that he was not going to make a break for it (considering that bag contained my white board!). Luckily, Taj was just a friendly man. In fact, he insisted that he give me his email and phone number and offered to come pick me up at Oxford and drive me into London for coffee sometime.
We'll see, Taj, we'll see.
Anyway, then I stood there and missed 3 of the buses I was supposed to get on. That part wasn't my fault, the bus drivers kept telling us they didn't have enough room for our luggage. Then I pulled/carried roughly 100 pounds of luggage for a really long time--uphill--on a road with many potholes. I was going to lie down on the street and let death just take me there, but I persisted.
Now, I reckon I'm here. It is weird.
We had a house orientation where they told us things that sounded to me like: "YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN ATTEMPT TO FIGURE ANYTHING OUT, BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO DIE HERE ANYWAY."
So that part was stressful.
"Sara, would you like a rape whistle to blow while you get routinely attacked on the 35 minute walk on the non-lit, wooded path home?" "Why yes, yes I would please." (Don't worry mom, I'm exaggerating). But I've decided against buying a bike because you have to ride in the street with all of the buses, and most people die when they do this. (again, mom).
Throughout the next week, I think all we do is get overloaded with information about how we don't know how to do anything and are thus going to die. Angst. Bloody angst.
Well, I reckon I'd better go because I don't yet have an adaptor for my laptop and thus need to conserve power.
Best,
Sara
Thursday, January 8, 2009
No Snakes on My Flight, Please.
Who ever said you should start packing earlier than the day before you leave?
Much to the chagrin of my mother, I followed my own advice of doing things at the last possible minute and everything worked out incredibly well. Sure, I could be getting more rest and not staying up late to finish things, but I've never slept the night before a flight so why start now? My mother seems to think that if I don't get enough sleep, I'll wander in a sleep-deprived stupor to some village in Munich, but surely I'll be way too scared to be anything but alert.
Thus, I will go to Minneapolis tomorrow at which point I'll board a direct flight to London. The farthest I've actually traveled alone before is from Rockford to Orange City. Anywhere else I've ever tried to go by myself I've gotten lost so I fully expect some sort of disastrous events in my attempts to get to my home on Pullens Lane.
Some of you will be happy to know that my white board will be making the journey with me to Oxford. However, I will try to restrain myself from tucking it under my arm while I stroll the paths of Oxford so that I don't look even more like a daft fool.
One of the most dreadful parts of this trip is that I have to leave all of my books at home. Apparently I'll have access to 11 million while I'm over there, but it's just not the same as reaching over to my bookshelf to see what Bart, N.T. or Raymond has to say. I have limited myself to 2 English Bibles (one dreadfully heavy but reputable, the other light and slim but not respectable in many circles), 2 Greek Bibles, 1 synopsis of the 4 gospels, 1 grammatical analysis of the GK NT, and lastly, 1 primer of biblical Greek--good old Croy. That will have to tide me over for now.
So I'll arrive in London at 7:30 AM which seems a most dreadful time to arrive. Then commences my attempts to make it out of the airport. I highly doubt I'll be successful.
I found a delightful website today (www.effingpot.com) that teaches you how to speak British. My favorite British saying thus far is "Bob's your uncle." As the website reads: "It is added to the end of sentences a bit like and that's it! For example if you are telling someone how to make that fabulous banoffee pie you just served them, you would tell them to boil the condensed milk for three hours, spread it onto a basic cheesecake base, slice bananas on top, add some whipped double cream, another layer of banana and Bob's your uncle!"
Isn't that maybe the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?
I have 3 goals for my time at Oxford:
1. Not eff up my GPA
2. Learn to enjoy a good pint of lager
3. View Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Alexandrinus at the British Museum in London.
If I can accomplish those 3 goals, then the depletion of my savings account might be worth it.
Oh, and also, I have a goal of not coming back a pretentious snob. Such is to be avoided. I plan to continue being non-fashionable and to continue saying "I reckon," which apparently makes me sound like a hick. Clearly, I'm just trying to be more well-rounded in my vocabulary.
Nonetheless, I reckon that's all for now. I hope there are no snakes on the plane.
Best, (I'm stealing this sign-off from Tom Truesdell because it's the most jovial I've seen thus far--unlike something terrible like "grace and peace," "in his love," or "you make my heart smile.")
Sara
Much to the chagrin of my mother, I followed my own advice of doing things at the last possible minute and everything worked out incredibly well. Sure, I could be getting more rest and not staying up late to finish things, but I've never slept the night before a flight so why start now? My mother seems to think that if I don't get enough sleep, I'll wander in a sleep-deprived stupor to some village in Munich, but surely I'll be way too scared to be anything but alert.
Thus, I will go to Minneapolis tomorrow at which point I'll board a direct flight to London. The farthest I've actually traveled alone before is from Rockford to Orange City. Anywhere else I've ever tried to go by myself I've gotten lost so I fully expect some sort of disastrous events in my attempts to get to my home on Pullens Lane.
Some of you will be happy to know that my white board will be making the journey with me to Oxford. However, I will try to restrain myself from tucking it under my arm while I stroll the paths of Oxford so that I don't look even more like a daft fool.
One of the most dreadful parts of this trip is that I have to leave all of my books at home. Apparently I'll have access to 11 million while I'm over there, but it's just not the same as reaching over to my bookshelf to see what Bart, N.T. or Raymond has to say. I have limited myself to 2 English Bibles (one dreadfully heavy but reputable, the other light and slim but not respectable in many circles), 2 Greek Bibles, 1 synopsis of the 4 gospels, 1 grammatical analysis of the GK NT, and lastly, 1 primer of biblical Greek--good old Croy. That will have to tide me over for now.
So I'll arrive in London at 7:30 AM which seems a most dreadful time to arrive. Then commences my attempts to make it out of the airport. I highly doubt I'll be successful.
I found a delightful website today (www.effingpot.com) that teaches you how to speak British. My favorite British saying thus far is "Bob's your uncle." As the website reads: "It is added to the end of sentences a bit like and that's it! For example if you are telling someone how to make that fabulous banoffee pie you just served them, you would tell them to boil the condensed milk for three hours, spread it onto a basic cheesecake base, slice bananas on top, add some whipped double cream, another layer of banana and Bob's your uncle!"
Isn't that maybe the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?
I have 3 goals for my time at Oxford:
1. Not eff up my GPA
2. Learn to enjoy a good pint of lager
3. View Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Alexandrinus at the British Museum in London.
If I can accomplish those 3 goals, then the depletion of my savings account might be worth it.
Oh, and also, I have a goal of not coming back a pretentious snob. Such is to be avoided. I plan to continue being non-fashionable and to continue saying "I reckon," which apparently makes me sound like a hick. Clearly, I'm just trying to be more well-rounded in my vocabulary.
Nonetheless, I reckon that's all for now. I hope there are no snakes on the plane.
Best, (I'm stealing this sign-off from Tom Truesdell because it's the most jovial I've seen thus far--unlike something terrible like "grace and peace," "in his love," or "you make my heart smile.")
Sara
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
