Highlighters and Cadbury Eggs

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