Dear friends,
Another week has passed here in Oxford, and if I were to tell you about it, I would probably summarize it by using the words 'angst' and 'douchebag' quite frequently. "Really Sara? You would do that? That doesn't sound like you."
I've definitely gotten to that point where I wake up thinking about going home and go to bed thinking about home. I am just really so very ready to go home. I think that this program should not have given us a spring break, because it is really very hard to transition from traveling back into academia. Especially when that 'academia' no longer involves beautiful gospel topics and Albus Andrew, but nasty British landscape topics and history video series.
I am currently writing an essay on Julian of Norwich. Perhaps I should be interested, but I'm just really very not. I think that I'm not a very well-rounded person. This is unfortunate but is just how things go I reckon.
Wow, I'm writing about really boring things right now. Good thing I have a brief story that I've been saving up for awhile now. So one time I was sitting in the large, ominous, silent library while I was working on an essay. All of a sudden, I sensed that something was wrong. Music was playing. I looked up to see a guy frantically opening and closing his laptop. He had shut it, and then removed his headphones, but the music hadn't stopped. While he feverishly tried to stop the music, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. He continued to make panicked motions and finally looked around at all of us staring at him. 2 seconds passed. Then, in desperation, he grabbed the laptop off the desk and literally ran out of the library, with the music still playing. The readers at the desks glanced around at each other with smirks on their faces. Ahhh, Bodleian reader bonding. Poor guy. Of course then he had to make a walk of shame back to his desk to gather the rest of his belongings. Man, I almost wish that had happened to me. Nothing bad ever happens to me anymore. It's a dang shame.
So here's something maybe you should know. I am officially going to Princeton Seminary this coming fall. Technically I've been officially going to go there for about 5 months now, when I told them I was coming, but then I also told Duke Divinity School that I was going to go there as well. Since I obviously can't go to both schools, I was going to have to tell one of them no. I finally got my financial aid notification from Duke yesterday. They are offering me $30,000 in loans. Princeton is offering me free tutition. Thus, I think I'll go to Princeton. I'd be a lunatic not to do so.
So, it's nice to have that decision made!
Except now people have started to tell me things like "New Jersey is the armpit of America." "Jersey is really dirty." "You are going to get stabbed and die." "You are going to fail and die." "You are going to get stabbed, fail, and die."
So, I guess I'm getting excited for that.
No, I reckon it'll be good. I've only gone to the east coast once, for the national spelling bee (woot woot!), so I hope it's a good fit for me. I hope that not everyone is a pretentious tool. I hate pretentious tools. One thing that I have reaffirmed while being at Oxford is that I don't particularly like to hang out with people who are like me. Hanging out with people that are all really driven and focused on success makes me super angsty. I mean, I would never want to hang out with myself, so why would I want to hang out with people who are like myself? So, basically I hope Princeton is not filled with people like me. Or maybe I can get a job at a coffee shop and hang out with people that are chill and not angsty all the time. Actually, one of my greatest desires for awhile now has been to bartend my way through seminary. We'll see if I make that happen. I think I'm too short to be a bartender. We will see.
I have also more or less officially decided that I will be spending my summer in Orange City. Of this decision, I am ridiculously pleased. Really, so very, very happy. Making the decision completely goes against the normal way I make decisions, considering I'm not sure I'll have a place to live, or jobs, and it may very well be a very financially unwise decision. Regardless, I'm doing it because I want to. Sometimes I think it's okay to do things that make you happy. Oh, and let me know if you are aware of any living/job opportunites. I mean, I may have an apartment...and a roommate...and a job...but it's still all completely undecided. I think I'll still have a job at the coffee shop, but I won't be given enough hours to only work there. I'm going to apply at Blue Mountain (swanky Orange City restaurant), and I hope to God that they hire me. Hopefully my chances are good since I think they always need help, and some of them know me from the coffee shop (which is right across the street), and I have like 6 years of experience as a server. I hope it works out. I think I have a job cleaning someone's house once a week as well. Basically, I just plan to pimp myself out to anyone that wants me to do something. (Hmm...in a completely ethical/moral way, I mean...) I adore working. Absolutely love it. I remember in high school telling one of my teachers that working was my identity. She insisted it was not. She was wrong. She's also the one that told me I would have a nervous breakdown in college. She was wrong.
Oh yes, I went to Belfast last weekend. It was absolutely glorious. Really, probably the highlight of my time in the UK. I kind of feel guilty for thinking that; I feel like I should have an Oxford highlight instead. As of right now, though, my favorite part about Oxford is the clouds. We'll see if I can make a better memory that that.
Anyway, Belfast. I stayed with/hung out with friends that I had met last spring on my SSP to Belfast. Just picture amazing, wonderful people and that would be these people. I finally got to drink my Guinness in Belfast (which I had been denied last year -- darn NW rules), and I did so while watching an apparently monumental rugby match in a pub with very enthusiastic Ireland fans. Again, amazing.
I was so glad to get away from the program here and just be in real life. I feel as though Belfast may be that place that I'll always try to return to in my life. That can be a life goal.
Well, I did that thing again where I wrote for a long time about completely inconsequential things. Now I'm going to go make oatmeal. I'm planning to not buy groceries for my last three weeks here and instead live off of a bag of oatmeal. I always end up doing this weird thing where I deprive myself of groceries in order to meet some strange goal that I've set. It's okay though, mom, because I got a real meal for lunch during the Angst/Douchebag classes, and then I just have to fend for myself at supper. Basically, I'm a stronger breed than most humans.
Yes, well, that is that. Hope you're doing well.
Best,
Sara
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
"Come Back To Me, Albus Andrew. Come Back To Me Is My Request."
Dear friends,
Another Thursday=another blog post. However, this time I have not emerged fresh out of another tutorial experience. And what a grim day it was.
Today marked the beginning of the portion of my time here that the program has so aptly titled "Angst: A Historiographic Approach to the Methodologies of How to Make You as Angsty as Possible." I've always wanted to get credits for angst. Now the opportunity is mine to seize. The participants in my program sometimes refer to the Angst class as British Landscapes, just so they can pretend to their schools and families that they are learning something substantial and worthy of credit at their home institution. Underneath this fondly assigned label, though, we all know that the class is very terrible and lives up to its name by being properly angst-inducing.
So, now that tutorials are over, I have 3 main things going on.
#1. Angst Class
#2. Writing and researching for my "Dissertation"
#3. Douchebag Seminar
"Wow," you think, "I have got to get me into that Oxford program. A Douchebag Seminar sounds right up my alley."
To elaborate further, my entire schedule has been changed drastically. You see, the Oxford term consists of eight weeks of tutorials. Then, all the students go home until the next term. There are 3 eight week terms throughout the year. Thus, I have finished the real Oxford portion, and we are now doing fake Oxford things so that we can fulfill requirements at our home institutions and be allowed to do this whole study abroad thing. Thus, a normal day for me now will consist of waking up early, vying for the shower at the same time as forty other douchebags in my house, and then playing a game called: "Try as hard as you can to walk the 35-minute path alone and avoid 40 other douchebags walking in the same direction." I failed miserably at the game this morning.
Upon arrival at 9:30am, we immediately settle in for a one hour film that hurls us wildly through British history. 10:30 brings tea time while I sit amongst a crowd and think about how angsty everyone is making me. 11:00 brings another one hour lecture about something British and landscape-ish. 12:00 brings lunch. Yay free lunch (that my tuition paid for)!! Then we're all supposed to scurry off and spend the rest of our lives in the library until the next day starts. I only have 2 essays to write for this class, but the topics that I have to pick from are very terrible. From my first day of "class," I can summarize what I learned by dropping a few names, but not knowing at all what those people did. How unfortunate.
The Douchebag Seminar began today as well. Some people refer to this as the Integrative Theology Seminar, but again, we all know what it really consists of. This was maybe the angstiest hour of my life because 8 students and 1 facilitator sat in a pretentious circle and talked about pretentious things that were completely pointless. All we did was talk about theology in some horribly abstract way and use words and phrases like "patterns of judgment," and "metaphysics." Actual mention of the Bible occurred very few times. I utterly despise theology in the abstract. There are things I can appreciate about biblical theology--a lot of things--and overall, I think it can be a quite worthy enterprise. However, there are terrible ways to go about theology, and I think that my Douchebag Seminar is going to be a crash course in worthless ways to discuss theology. (Of course, you perhaps should realize that this is me talking. I evaluate most things in a pessimistic manner. However, in my opinion, the Douchebag Seminar is worthy of rampant pessimism.)
The one thing that does make me happy is the prospect of working on my dissertation. The only problem is that I don't have much time to devote to that since I have the Angst and Douchebag classes eating into my time. I don't know why pointless things have to infringe upon my scholarship. Angst.
In other news, I did just return from Wales. Wales was perhaps one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It was a very chill trip. We hung out, went to castles, and hiked a mountain. The hike was probably my favorite part. I like to accomplish things.
Tomorrow will consist of a field trip to a cathedral somewhere north of London and then I will depart at 1am to catch a bus to airport where I will board a flight to Belfast. Even though I just got back from break, I really need another one. Belfast will be wonderful. I'll arrive Saturday morning and leave Sunday night so it will be a very quick trip, but I am terribly excited.
There is perhaps more I could write about, but I must really get to bed in preparation for the early morning "fight 40 douchebags for the shower" game.
Best,
Sara
Another Thursday=another blog post. However, this time I have not emerged fresh out of another tutorial experience. And what a grim day it was.
Today marked the beginning of the portion of my time here that the program has so aptly titled "Angst: A Historiographic Approach to the Methodologies of How to Make You as Angsty as Possible." I've always wanted to get credits for angst. Now the opportunity is mine to seize. The participants in my program sometimes refer to the Angst class as British Landscapes, just so they can pretend to their schools and families that they are learning something substantial and worthy of credit at their home institution. Underneath this fondly assigned label, though, we all know that the class is very terrible and lives up to its name by being properly angst-inducing.
So, now that tutorials are over, I have 3 main things going on.
#1. Angst Class
#2. Writing and researching for my "Dissertation"
#3. Douchebag Seminar
"Wow," you think, "I have got to get me into that Oxford program. A Douchebag Seminar sounds right up my alley."
To elaborate further, my entire schedule has been changed drastically. You see, the Oxford term consists of eight weeks of tutorials. Then, all the students go home until the next term. There are 3 eight week terms throughout the year. Thus, I have finished the real Oxford portion, and we are now doing fake Oxford things so that we can fulfill requirements at our home institutions and be allowed to do this whole study abroad thing. Thus, a normal day for me now will consist of waking up early, vying for the shower at the same time as forty other douchebags in my house, and then playing a game called: "Try as hard as you can to walk the 35-minute path alone and avoid 40 other douchebags walking in the same direction." I failed miserably at the game this morning.
Upon arrival at 9:30am, we immediately settle in for a one hour film that hurls us wildly through British history. 10:30 brings tea time while I sit amongst a crowd and think about how angsty everyone is making me. 11:00 brings another one hour lecture about something British and landscape-ish. 12:00 brings lunch. Yay free lunch (that my tuition paid for)!! Then we're all supposed to scurry off and spend the rest of our lives in the library until the next day starts. I only have 2 essays to write for this class, but the topics that I have to pick from are very terrible. From my first day of "class," I can summarize what I learned by dropping a few names, but not knowing at all what those people did. How unfortunate.
The Douchebag Seminar began today as well. Some people refer to this as the Integrative Theology Seminar, but again, we all know what it really consists of. This was maybe the angstiest hour of my life because 8 students and 1 facilitator sat in a pretentious circle and talked about pretentious things that were completely pointless. All we did was talk about theology in some horribly abstract way and use words and phrases like "patterns of judgment," and "metaphysics." Actual mention of the Bible occurred very few times. I utterly despise theology in the abstract. There are things I can appreciate about biblical theology--a lot of things--and overall, I think it can be a quite worthy enterprise. However, there are terrible ways to go about theology, and I think that my Douchebag Seminar is going to be a crash course in worthless ways to discuss theology. (Of course, you perhaps should realize that this is me talking. I evaluate most things in a pessimistic manner. However, in my opinion, the Douchebag Seminar is worthy of rampant pessimism.)
The one thing that does make me happy is the prospect of working on my dissertation. The only problem is that I don't have much time to devote to that since I have the Angst and Douchebag classes eating into my time. I don't know why pointless things have to infringe upon my scholarship. Angst.
In other news, I did just return from Wales. Wales was perhaps one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It was a very chill trip. We hung out, went to castles, and hiked a mountain. The hike was probably my favorite part. I like to accomplish things.
Tomorrow will consist of a field trip to a cathedral somewhere north of London and then I will depart at 1am to catch a bus to airport where I will board a flight to Belfast. Even though I just got back from break, I really need another one. Belfast will be wonderful. I'll arrive Saturday morning and leave Sunday night so it will be a very quick trip, but I am terribly excited.
There is perhaps more I could write about, but I must really get to bed in preparation for the early morning "fight 40 douchebags for the shower" game.
Best,
Sara
Thursday, March 12, 2009
"Please don't forget me, Albus"
Dear friends,
One thing that I have realized about this blog is that I have gone about it all wrong. I don't ever really tell you what I'm actually doing in Oxford. In fact, mostly all I have done is try to tell you interesting stories while seeing how many times I could possibly insert the word 'angst' into a blog post. I realized this when a friend told me that she had directed someone who wanted to go to Oxford to visit my blog. This person is really going to learn nothing about Oxford, but rather only a lot about this strange 'Albus Andrew' figure who has taken over my life. That is all to say, I don't much care if I have gone about this blog wrongly. I, in fact, hate reading boring study abroad blogs that say things akin to: "Today I visited a castle. It was beautiful. God lived in the castle. I like God. I like castles. Therefore, I like castles with God in them." No thank you. I prefer my methods.
That being said, get ready for a new batch of stories about my tutorial experiences.
Today I had my last tutorial ever with Albus Andrew. It was a sad, but glorious hour. I was glad to see when I came in that he had lit the fireplace, likely in anticipation of avoiding my freak show of shivering on his sofa. We went through the usual routine of him saying, "Right, let's see how you got on then," and then me reading my essay on the fourfold Gospel aloud to him. When I had finished reading my last sentence [which happened to be a BAMF sentence], there was the usual long pause in which my mind races wildly while I try to figure out by his facial expression whether or not he liked it. Then he said:
Albus: "Let me start with a broad question. What are you doing next year? Have your plans for seminary come together yet?"
(Um what? Albus? Fourfold Gospel? Remember...we were talking about it?)
Sara: "Um, no. As of right now, both Princeton and Duke think I'm coming there in the fall. I'm going to need to remedy that at some point."
Albus: "And what do you want to do eventually?"
Sara: "Well, I've kind of been thinking for awhile that I wanted to use seminary as a stepping-stone to a doctoral program and go into academia, but Oxford has made me doubt that a lot. I mean, I doubted it everyday of my life before I came here, but Oxford has magnified that."
Albus: "Why?"
Sara: "[insert weaknesses and lack of abilities here]" I'm just not sure that I'm cut out to handle what would be expected of me."
At this point, Albus and I transitioned into territory that we had never ventured into before. We talked about the more personal topic of whether or not I suck at life. Albus lapsed into a 10-minute segment where he told me that he, in fact, thought I did not suck at life at all. He said many very good things that people should not reproduce on their blogs unless they wish to be written off as a pretentious jerk. Basically, he affirmed that he thought I was quite capable and he told me that it would be "disastrous" if I left Oxford thinking that I wasn't cut out for academia, because that just wasn't true at all.
To some of these comments I responded: "Yes well, I often feel as though I can be confident in my writing and my ability to express the content in an essay, but as I'm sure you've seen in our tutorials, I often struggle more with my ability to express things well verbally."
Albus Andrew thought about this and said that he had never thought that I couldn't articulate myself well, and that he had always thought I had responded relatively well to his questions.
Sara: "Well, maybe I'm just too hard on myself sometimes. I tend to be very hard on myself."
He agreed that if I felt like I was doing poorly, then it was because I was setting impossible standards for myself. I said, "I know I do this, but it's very difficult not to do this." Seriously. I don't know how to be a normal person that can be satisfied with the quality of my work. I may have the poorest self-esteem when it comes to academics of anyone that I know. Actually, it's bi-polar self-esteem. Sometimes I can feel very confident about my ability to do well, but most of the time the feeling of imminent failure overrides everything. I happened to be reading back through my facebook status reports over the last 3 years [lame activity, yes I know], but it was interesting to see how many times I had talked about failing at life. "Sara is upset to be failing at life." "Sara is happy that she has avoided failing at life." I really wish I would get over this. I remember one time my junior year getting a 95 on a paper and after seeing the grade, going on a failure walk in which I reprimanded myself by chanting: "failure, failure" to the tune of my footsteps. [WOW, these are maybe not things I should write in a blog]. Suffice it to say, I know that I'm not normal, and I know that I beat myself up too much, but I also know that I will always be this way. I don't see a shift in optimism coming my way.
Having expressed these sentiments about always doubting my abilities, I feel as though having Albus Andrew affirm me so greatly can give me a little boost to think back on in the future. Albus Andrew knows really nothing about me, and he has absolutely no reason to give me praise if I didn't deserve it, and yet he did. Thus, perhaps I can do things decently from time to time. I very much appreciated the opportunity to start from the bottom, and prove myself to him, even though it made me angsty as heck back in the day.
I was recently told that I shouldn't feel as though I have anything to prove, but I do. I really, really do. Maybe I shouldn't operate from this basis, but again, I have no idea how to not.
I was thinking the other day about how this whole tutorial experience has been quite similar to the first time I went skiing (which was only about 3 months ago). I, in fact, am generally quite terrible at physical endeavors such as these. In middle school basketball, when I was put in the game during the last quarter because we had basically already lost, I never ever made a basket. I would have dreams in which I scored points for the team, but in real life, I'm not sure I ever even took a shot. Needless to say, the prospects for my success in skiing were not high. Nonetheless, after about 2 hours of training, "Ski Master Dave" pointed and asked me if I was ready to go down "that hill." Having never gone skiing before and having absolutely no idea what "that hill" entailed, I enthusiastically agreed that I thought I was ready to conquer the hill.
The thing is, I had no idea that the hill, that I will forever refer to with a distinct string of cuss words, was roundabout a 18 mile straight shot to the bottom (of course you know this is not true). Thus, as I started confidently down the hill, I suddenly realized that I HAD NOT LEARNED HOW TO SLOW DOWN. "Hmm," I thought, "I am going really very quickly. There is a fence coming up." [insert lots of cussing, screaming, and crashing here]. This process continued as I picked myself up and hurled myself down the next stretch of death.
As I got into one horrible, death-defying crash after another and was continually helped up by a little boy, I realized that I could not quit because I had to somehow make it down the hill. Thus, I simply could not quit. Unless I died in the process, I had to keep going down that hill.
Why in the world am I telling you this? Because the whole process of my tutorials with Albus Andrew has been a little bit like having to get down that hill. As he would ask me a question and I would flounder and crash in a cloud of my own self-induced failure, I HAD to come up with an answer to his question. I could not quit. I had to get to the bottom.
As my day of skiing continued, I went back to the bunny hill and learned how to turn and how to slow down. After about 4 hours of this, I tried "that hill" again, and I made it the whole way down without falling. Amazing. The past three weeks with Albus Andrew have been like making it to the bottom without falling. In today's tutorial, I may have even won the prize for having the "maddest skillz."
That, my friends, is how my skiing experience is relevant.
I will very much miss my tutorial experience. Every evening (or the wee hours of the morning) when I would finish my essay, and the last pages dropped down into the printer tray, I went through a bit of a stapler ritual. For some reason, in my attempts to staple two separate copies of my essays, I would always staple one of the copies poorly. The other copy, however, I usually managed to staple very well. I would then meticulously check to make sure that I gave Albus Andrew the copy with the nice staple. Not that he ever would have noticed if he got the essay with a staple slightly askew, but oh my was this stapling process important to me.
Well, well...perhaps I have packed enough angst into this post to hold us all over into the next week. It should be pointed out, however, that Oxford is currently going quite well. Tomorrow will be my last Greek tutorial with Albus Jonathan and on Saturday morning I will depart for a 5 day trip to Wales. Of this, I am greatly pleased. I think it will be a delightful time.
I do thank you for reading these thoughts of mine. Perhaps I share more than I should on a public blog, but I believe that authenticity is one of the things I value most in life.
And on that note...
Best,
Sara
One thing that I have realized about this blog is that I have gone about it all wrong. I don't ever really tell you what I'm actually doing in Oxford. In fact, mostly all I have done is try to tell you interesting stories while seeing how many times I could possibly insert the word 'angst' into a blog post. I realized this when a friend told me that she had directed someone who wanted to go to Oxford to visit my blog. This person is really going to learn nothing about Oxford, but rather only a lot about this strange 'Albus Andrew' figure who has taken over my life. That is all to say, I don't much care if I have gone about this blog wrongly. I, in fact, hate reading boring study abroad blogs that say things akin to: "Today I visited a castle. It was beautiful. God lived in the castle. I like God. I like castles. Therefore, I like castles with God in them." No thank you. I prefer my methods.
That being said, get ready for a new batch of stories about my tutorial experiences.
Today I had my last tutorial ever with Albus Andrew. It was a sad, but glorious hour. I was glad to see when I came in that he had lit the fireplace, likely in anticipation of avoiding my freak show of shivering on his sofa. We went through the usual routine of him saying, "Right, let's see how you got on then," and then me reading my essay on the fourfold Gospel aloud to him. When I had finished reading my last sentence [which happened to be a BAMF sentence], there was the usual long pause in which my mind races wildly while I try to figure out by his facial expression whether or not he liked it. Then he said:
Albus: "Let me start with a broad question. What are you doing next year? Have your plans for seminary come together yet?"
(Um what? Albus? Fourfold Gospel? Remember...we were talking about it?)
Sara: "Um, no. As of right now, both Princeton and Duke think I'm coming there in the fall. I'm going to need to remedy that at some point."
Albus: "And what do you want to do eventually?"
Sara: "Well, I've kind of been thinking for awhile that I wanted to use seminary as a stepping-stone to a doctoral program and go into academia, but Oxford has made me doubt that a lot. I mean, I doubted it everyday of my life before I came here, but Oxford has magnified that."
Albus: "Why?"
Sara: "[insert weaknesses and lack of abilities here]" I'm just not sure that I'm cut out to handle what would be expected of me."
At this point, Albus and I transitioned into territory that we had never ventured into before. We talked about the more personal topic of whether or not I suck at life. Albus lapsed into a 10-minute segment where he told me that he, in fact, thought I did not suck at life at all. He said many very good things that people should not reproduce on their blogs unless they wish to be written off as a pretentious jerk. Basically, he affirmed that he thought I was quite capable and he told me that it would be "disastrous" if I left Oxford thinking that I wasn't cut out for academia, because that just wasn't true at all.
To some of these comments I responded: "Yes well, I often feel as though I can be confident in my writing and my ability to express the content in an essay, but as I'm sure you've seen in our tutorials, I often struggle more with my ability to express things well verbally."
Albus Andrew thought about this and said that he had never thought that I couldn't articulate myself well, and that he had always thought I had responded relatively well to his questions.
Sara: "Well, maybe I'm just too hard on myself sometimes. I tend to be very hard on myself."
He agreed that if I felt like I was doing poorly, then it was because I was setting impossible standards for myself. I said, "I know I do this, but it's very difficult not to do this." Seriously. I don't know how to be a normal person that can be satisfied with the quality of my work. I may have the poorest self-esteem when it comes to academics of anyone that I know. Actually, it's bi-polar self-esteem. Sometimes I can feel very confident about my ability to do well, but most of the time the feeling of imminent failure overrides everything. I happened to be reading back through my facebook status reports over the last 3 years [lame activity, yes I know], but it was interesting to see how many times I had talked about failing at life. "Sara is upset to be failing at life." "Sara is happy that she has avoided failing at life." I really wish I would get over this. I remember one time my junior year getting a 95 on a paper and after seeing the grade, going on a failure walk in which I reprimanded myself by chanting: "failure, failure" to the tune of my footsteps. [WOW, these are maybe not things I should write in a blog]. Suffice it to say, I know that I'm not normal, and I know that I beat myself up too much, but I also know that I will always be this way. I don't see a shift in optimism coming my way.
Having expressed these sentiments about always doubting my abilities, I feel as though having Albus Andrew affirm me so greatly can give me a little boost to think back on in the future. Albus Andrew knows really nothing about me, and he has absolutely no reason to give me praise if I didn't deserve it, and yet he did. Thus, perhaps I can do things decently from time to time. I very much appreciated the opportunity to start from the bottom, and prove myself to him, even though it made me angsty as heck back in the day.
I was recently told that I shouldn't feel as though I have anything to prove, but I do. I really, really do. Maybe I shouldn't operate from this basis, but again, I have no idea how to not.
I was thinking the other day about how this whole tutorial experience has been quite similar to the first time I went skiing (which was only about 3 months ago). I, in fact, am generally quite terrible at physical endeavors such as these. In middle school basketball, when I was put in the game during the last quarter because we had basically already lost, I never ever made a basket. I would have dreams in which I scored points for the team, but in real life, I'm not sure I ever even took a shot. Needless to say, the prospects for my success in skiing were not high. Nonetheless, after about 2 hours of training, "Ski Master Dave" pointed and asked me if I was ready to go down "that hill." Having never gone skiing before and having absolutely no idea what "that hill" entailed, I enthusiastically agreed that I thought I was ready to conquer the hill.
The thing is, I had no idea that the hill, that I will forever refer to with a distinct string of cuss words, was roundabout a 18 mile straight shot to the bottom (of course you know this is not true). Thus, as I started confidently down the hill, I suddenly realized that I HAD NOT LEARNED HOW TO SLOW DOWN. "Hmm," I thought, "I am going really very quickly. There is a fence coming up." [insert lots of cussing, screaming, and crashing here]. This process continued as I picked myself up and hurled myself down the next stretch of death.
As I got into one horrible, death-defying crash after another and was continually helped up by a little boy, I realized that I could not quit because I had to somehow make it down the hill. Thus, I simply could not quit. Unless I died in the process, I had to keep going down that hill.
Why in the world am I telling you this? Because the whole process of my tutorials with Albus Andrew has been a little bit like having to get down that hill. As he would ask me a question and I would flounder and crash in a cloud of my own self-induced failure, I HAD to come up with an answer to his question. I could not quit. I had to get to the bottom.
As my day of skiing continued, I went back to the bunny hill and learned how to turn and how to slow down. After about 4 hours of this, I tried "that hill" again, and I made it the whole way down without falling. Amazing. The past three weeks with Albus Andrew have been like making it to the bottom without falling. In today's tutorial, I may have even won the prize for having the "maddest skillz."
That, my friends, is how my skiing experience is relevant.
I will very much miss my tutorial experience. Every evening (or the wee hours of the morning) when I would finish my essay, and the last pages dropped down into the printer tray, I went through a bit of a stapler ritual. For some reason, in my attempts to staple two separate copies of my essays, I would always staple one of the copies poorly. The other copy, however, I usually managed to staple very well. I would then meticulously check to make sure that I gave Albus Andrew the copy with the nice staple. Not that he ever would have noticed if he got the essay with a staple slightly askew, but oh my was this stapling process important to me.
Well, well...perhaps I have packed enough angst into this post to hold us all over into the next week. It should be pointed out, however, that Oxford is currently going quite well. Tomorrow will be my last Greek tutorial with Albus Jonathan and on Saturday morning I will depart for a 5 day trip to Wales. Of this, I am greatly pleased. I think it will be a delightful time.
I do thank you for reading these thoughts of mine. Perhaps I share more than I should on a public blog, but I believe that authenticity is one of the things I value most in life.
And on that note...
Best,
Sara
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Nerds are better in the Rainbow Pack.
Dear friends,
Two weeks have lapsed since my last blog post. My apologies: [insert boring comments about how busy I've been here.]
I'm sorry to say that nothing terrible has happened to me in quite awhile. I mean, come on, am I going to write about good things? I am nowhere near witty enough to make good things entertaining. My tutorials have been going really well lately. Last week, I finished reading my essay on why the Gospel of John was written, and after giving me no feedback for five weeks, Albus Andrew (without even looking up from my essay) said carefully:
"Well Sara, I don't know that I agree with everything you have said, but that is one of the best essays I have heard. Your other essays were good, but this one is really excellent."
(2 seconds of stunned, awkward silence)
(tentative tone) "Thank you."
(3 seconds of awkward silence)
Sweet Jesus.
I was in shock for about the next five minutes and had to force myself to be chill and not smile. I don't think I did a very good job of this because I was so distracted by his compliment that I couldn't concentrate on his questions for awhile. I forced myself to repress my joy for the next hour until I left his office and could smile like a giddy school-girl as I walked to the library. That moment will forever remain a moment that I can think back upon when I am convinced that I can do nothing adequately.
Ironically though, his good comment contributed to more angst in the coming week as I had now set a standard for myself that I didn't want to fall below. I HATE setting standards for myself, but this is a recurring theme in my life. My own expectations haunt me.
In other news, I've spent the past two tutorials with Albus Andrew shivering uncontrollably on his couch [that is, I was the one doing the shivering--this would not be ambiguous if I were blogging in Greek (how fun would that be?)]. The first week, before I had noticed that I was visibly shaking, he stopped mid-sentence and said:
"(Irish lilt) Are you okay? Are you warm enough?"
"Oh, uh, am I? ... I'm okay."
After this, I vowed to take a sweatshirt but conveniently forgot again this morning.
"Albus, will you turn on your fireplace, pretty please? Because I am freaking cold." Unfortunately, he didn't pick up on the subliminal messages I tried to send him by staring longingly at the fireplace, and this time he didn't comment on the shivering which made the fact that I was shaking uncontrollaby all the more awkward. I'm sure that he was wondering how to deal with me when I looked like such an angsty freak. Ahh well, good old Albus.
For an Albus Jonathan update:
Albus Jonathan: "Do you feel like there's a general sense of gloom among the program right now?"
Me: "Uh, I'm not really sure. I feel a lot less stressed than most people in this program. And I've been getting more sleep this semester than any other semester in my college career."
Yes, I really said that. Why the heck did I say that? Albus Jonathan then proceeded to quadruple the amount of Greek homework for my next tutorial.
Note to self: Always appear angsty.
Oh yes, one more thing, I totally taught Albus Andrew the word 'discombobulate' today. I used it in my paper and he said: "I have never seen that word in my life. What [the crap] does it mean?" I felt happy about this. I guess the word does look completely messed up.
In more shallow news, on my walk to the grocery store today, I stopped in a thrift store and found the most amazing trendy euro boots ever for 5 pounds. These are the sort of trendy euro boots that beckon me from the store windows with their nasty price tag of 30-50 pounds. Thus, I should probably pull an evangelical and say: "It was a God thing. It was as if God wanted me to have those shoes." I'm sure that was it. I mean, what else could it be?
Here is an awkward thing: My next essay topic is: "A theological opportunity or a historical problem--what should we make of the fourfold gospel?" The awkward part is that Albus Andrew put one of the books that he has written on the topic on my bibliography. I mean, of course I am going to read his book, but do I cite it in my essay? I feel as if that would be overly awkward. What would be exceptionally awkward would be if I were to quote him in my paper. Then I would be reading aloud my essay to him and quoting him. Sketchy. How would I phrase that? "As you comment in your book..." No way, dude. Any advice on how to deal with this predicament? Because if I don't cite it, I don't want him to think I completely ignored his book. Oh the trials of studying under tutors that are undoubtable BAMFs.
Well, I apologize that this post was rather mundane. Maybe another natural disaster will come my way in the next week. We can only hope.
Best,
Sara
Ps, I've gotten some amazing mail lately. Thank you greatly for your kindness. :)
Two weeks have lapsed since my last blog post. My apologies: [insert boring comments about how busy I've been here.]
I'm sorry to say that nothing terrible has happened to me in quite awhile. I mean, come on, am I going to write about good things? I am nowhere near witty enough to make good things entertaining. My tutorials have been going really well lately. Last week, I finished reading my essay on why the Gospel of John was written, and after giving me no feedback for five weeks, Albus Andrew (without even looking up from my essay) said carefully:
"Well Sara, I don't know that I agree with everything you have said, but that is one of the best essays I have heard. Your other essays were good, but this one is really excellent."
(2 seconds of stunned, awkward silence)
(tentative tone) "Thank you."
(3 seconds of awkward silence)
Sweet Jesus.
I was in shock for about the next five minutes and had to force myself to be chill and not smile. I don't think I did a very good job of this because I was so distracted by his compliment that I couldn't concentrate on his questions for awhile. I forced myself to repress my joy for the next hour until I left his office and could smile like a giddy school-girl as I walked to the library. That moment will forever remain a moment that I can think back upon when I am convinced that I can do nothing adequately.
Ironically though, his good comment contributed to more angst in the coming week as I had now set a standard for myself that I didn't want to fall below. I HATE setting standards for myself, but this is a recurring theme in my life. My own expectations haunt me.
In other news, I've spent the past two tutorials with Albus Andrew shivering uncontrollably on his couch [that is, I was the one doing the shivering--this would not be ambiguous if I were blogging in Greek (how fun would that be?)]. The first week, before I had noticed that I was visibly shaking, he stopped mid-sentence and said:
"(Irish lilt) Are you okay? Are you warm enough?"
"Oh, uh, am I? ... I'm okay."
After this, I vowed to take a sweatshirt but conveniently forgot again this morning.
"Albus, will you turn on your fireplace, pretty please? Because I am freaking cold." Unfortunately, he didn't pick up on the subliminal messages I tried to send him by staring longingly at the fireplace, and this time he didn't comment on the shivering which made the fact that I was shaking uncontrollaby all the more awkward. I'm sure that he was wondering how to deal with me when I looked like such an angsty freak. Ahh well, good old Albus.
For an Albus Jonathan update:
Albus Jonathan: "Do you feel like there's a general sense of gloom among the program right now?"
Me: "Uh, I'm not really sure. I feel a lot less stressed than most people in this program. And I've been getting more sleep this semester than any other semester in my college career."
Yes, I really said that. Why the heck did I say that? Albus Jonathan then proceeded to quadruple the amount of Greek homework for my next tutorial.
Note to self: Always appear angsty.
Oh yes, one more thing, I totally taught Albus Andrew the word 'discombobulate' today. I used it in my paper and he said: "I have never seen that word in my life. What [the crap] does it mean?" I felt happy about this. I guess the word does look completely messed up.
In more shallow news, on my walk to the grocery store today, I stopped in a thrift store and found the most amazing trendy euro boots ever for 5 pounds. These are the sort of trendy euro boots that beckon me from the store windows with their nasty price tag of 30-50 pounds. Thus, I should probably pull an evangelical and say: "It was a God thing. It was as if God wanted me to have those shoes." I'm sure that was it. I mean, what else could it be?
Here is an awkward thing: My next essay topic is: "A theological opportunity or a historical problem--what should we make of the fourfold gospel?" The awkward part is that Albus Andrew put one of the books that he has written on the topic on my bibliography. I mean, of course I am going to read his book, but do I cite it in my essay? I feel as if that would be overly awkward. What would be exceptionally awkward would be if I were to quote him in my paper. Then I would be reading aloud my essay to him and quoting him. Sketchy. How would I phrase that? "As you comment in your book..." No way, dude. Any advice on how to deal with this predicament? Because if I don't cite it, I don't want him to think I completely ignored his book. Oh the trials of studying under tutors that are undoubtable BAMFs.
Well, I apologize that this post was rather mundane. Maybe another natural disaster will come my way in the next week. We can only hope.
Best,
Sara
Ps, I've gotten some amazing mail lately. Thank you greatly for your kindness. :)
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