spring negotiations

the other blog

2009-05-20T12:07:00.002-05:00

Hi, faithful readers.

I have a new blog, since I've been trying to leave the Oxford experience untouched by Americana:

http://www.iamnotpositive.blogspot.com

Strange name.

But other ones were taken.

Love.

back in the US, back in the US, back in the US...oh, that's it.

2009-04-29T12:10:00.002-05:00

No more British words.

But ask me sometime--I may have a few more up my sleeve that I don't remember at the moment.

I hope most of you have enjoyed my blog. I've been hearing that quite a few people have been reading it--this idea makes me a little nervous, and I'm glad I didn't know it before--I might have felt too much pressure.

I hope everyone is well, and I'm glad to see that life, as I knew it, continued on without me..but a few things are still easily recognized:

Justine
Trinity's OPUS
The Carpenter's DeanMobile
et cetera.

The plane ride was uneventful, save for a crabby stewardess who rolled her eyes at most people and was short with others. I found this entertaining, and even paused some of my movies to watch her not-so-customer-friendly tactics.

Her hair looked good, though. Maybe she should give up the high heels--the last time I checked, standing on high heels for eight hours at extremely high altitudes don't better anyone's disposition (unless you count it for others' entertainment...)

I should check out of here, as I have a few jobs to look up while I'm in Palos Heights, IL for the next few weeks.

Be on the lookout for another blog--this one will be left alone for a long time, unless I decide to visit England again. In the Springtime. Stipulations.

Well, I can't say cheers anymore...but...Blessings to you all!

And, thanks for reading. It's been an adventure of spring negotiations. Spring came around in England. But I'll have to work my magic to make the bleariness of Illinois fade away.

With love.

Operation Information Regurgitation

2009-04-15T18:41:00.002-05:00

British Word of the Day: crotchet - A musical term, meaning one note that is held for one beat. (American's "quarter note"). eg: "Sopranos, please don't go flat on the crotchet in measure 34."

Basically, I've finished my essay. It's 4, 019 words with the MLA citation words within.

But really, I think it was just information regurgitation. Now I have to sadly go back through this pile of quotes and determine what I'm really saying (also known as editing.) I have a faint hope that instead of doing this, I'll just copy-edit, and in doing so, my true essay will come shining forth...

I think my hopes are ill-founded.

The Brownings became sickeningly lovey-dovey as I read on about them and wrote about such things as "Surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long." (I refuse to cite this. But I will tell you that it was Elizabeth Barrett writing to Robert Browning before they were married. Citations, Shmitations.)

Tomorrow I think I will attempt to go into the Radcliffe Camera, and run around screaming, "The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!"

They won't look at me because I'm yelling. They will look at me because I am yelling something incorrect that I have stolen, plagiarized, and adulterated for my own purposes.

I'm feeling scholarly, Paul Revere. I think I'll kindle a fire in the Upper Bodleian Library, as well.

Tomorrow we hand in our "Long Essay." Today we weep with exhaustion.

Cheers!...

in progress?

2009-04-12T07:47:00.004-05:00

British Word of the Day: fancy - to like to have, or in the case of denoting attraction, to simply admire and desire. (American's "Would you like" or simply "like") eg: "Fancy a spot o' tea?" OR "If I didn't know any better, I'd think she fancies him."

Things are not in progress, as you might have guessed. It is Easter Sunday after all. I took the day off entirely yesterday, and went into London with Alyssa. I brought a small book and notebook in case I was suddenly inspired to do research by the beauty of Westminster, the British Museum, or Camden Markets. Alas! This was not to be. *fake swoon*

But, London was gorgeous nevertheless. I may have pictures up in half a lifetime, but blogs may be quite out of fashion by then.

Maybe I'll get them up in a few years' time.

Until then!

Cheers!

on progress

2009-04-10T04:43:00.003-05:00

British Word of the Day: bang - exactly. (American's "right.") Normally used in sentences with a locational word directly following. eg: "We were bang in the middle of the field." Or, "That answer was bang on." [The "bang" portion of the sentence is given a heavier accent.]

Anyhow. My ideas on progress are as follows:

I think I'm inspired to do a little research now that I've caffeinated myself up.

Cheers!

it was a nominally "daily blog"

2009-04-09T17:16:00.004-05:00

British Word of the Day: serviette - a small piece of softer paper given you after quickly getting food. (American's "napkin".) Eg: "I've forgotten to get a serviette, and I'm a total mess--will you go get me one?"

It's been a while. I know. I must have known it wouldn't have been a daily blog. This is Oxford--where, as they told us when we arrived: "Your best is never good enough." It's tragically discouraging at times, but that only means that there is room for improvement, I suppose.

Today was the start of our Easter Break. However, that's also a misnomer. It's also called "Writing Period" from the 8th to the 16th for our Long Essay. I guess they expected our research to be done by now. I'd like to re-dub this time "Researching Frantically, Writing Sloppily, Eating while Running to the Bodleian, Getting Dehydrated Because You're Not Allowed To Drink Water In The Libraries, Pretend Like You Have Time To Edit Your Rough Draft But You'll Turn It In As Is Because You're Tired Of All-Nighters And You'll Take An Hour Of Sleep When You Can Get It" week.

So, if that gives you any idea of what I have up ahead of me, excellent. My work in this blog is done.

My long essay is 3,500-4,000 words, due next week Thursday. I can do this.
But it won't be pretty.

Additionally, Eric and Alex? I've made my decision. Upper Camera of the Radcliffe. Hands down. No comparison. Sorry to the loser of that bet.

Cheers!

Picture Post Promise

2009-03-27T15:59:00.002-05:00

British Word of the Day: yeahyeahyeah - A widely used response of affirmation. (American's "Uh-huh".) eg: "Yeahyeahyeah, I think I know what you're saying."

I completely do not have time to write a blog.
It's a Friday night.
I have pictures from Winchester Cathedral that I'd like to post, but I don't have that kind of time.
This term is getting curiouser and curiouser.

Spent 4 hours in the English Faculty Library tomorrow. I didn't get much done, though I went through book after book. It was horrible. I came home with just one that may prove helpful. Tomorrow, I'll hit up the Bodleian, since that's one of the only libraries open on Saturday's during term time, open from 10 - 4. I'll see what I can find in the Shakespeare section of the History section. I managed to find that area on accident last time I went in the Radcliffe Camera.

So much to do.

2500 words for Monday on how our knowledge of the conventions of theatre in Shakespeare's age affect the way we read his plays.

2500 words to go.
Oh, dear.

Cheers! (I think?)

a very mad party

2009-03-21T16:46:00.003-05:00

British Word of the Day: pitch - A large, grassy area upon which various sports are played. The 'pitch' generally has borders within which football, ultimate frisbee, or croquet may be played. (American's "field.") eg: "Let's all go out onto the pitch and start a match."

Today was particularly fun.

It consisted of a lot of sugar, tea, chocolate, and charity shopping. So you may imagine.

The Mad Hatter Tea Party was a wonderful idea by our "JCR" (Junior Common Room) (students who put on events etc. for our program). Junior Deans dressed up as Mad Hatter and the March Hare, and tea was dribbled and sugar was spilled and cream was tossed every which way. But I still managed to get a decent cup of peppermint tea.

I dressed up in a simple pink dress and a flowery, feathery headpiece, and was dubbed The Snarky Iris. I was perfectly fine with this, and it added suitably to my character as the day wore on.

The snarkiest iris that ever lived.

I have some sleep to snatch before tomorrow. Though it's still early, saying "I'm going to bed" and actually climbing into aforementioned item are completely different things. Forty-five minutes usually seems to sneak in there somewhere.

But this means I may be in bed before midnight, which is incredibly appalling to some, but indubitably appealing to me.

Goodnight! (+ 45 minutes = actual bed time)

Cheers!

technology and me

2009-03-20T15:47:00.002-05:00

British Word of the Day: lorry - a vehicle with an open area in back to put various large items--especially good for moving with sofas and couches and large pieces of furniture. (American's "truck"). eg: Put that in the back of the lorry, it won't fit in the Mini."

Charming blog entry title, right?

That's the only thing charming about it. We took a lovely field trip to an old Roman city in the British countryside, and I whipped out my camera at the first Kodak moment only to find it refused to take pictures. It allowed me to assume it was working because the review portion of the camera was working. But the actual picture-taking portion of the camera device was not.

This put a damper on my plans to have a picture post this evening.

I shall have to describe the area, then. And, you can also "google" St Alban and his cathedral, and the area surrounding, Verulamium.

The area was:
green
lush
verdant
hilly
warm
other things

The cathedral was:
Gothic
AND Saxon in architectural style
made of brick
AND other quarried items from the old Roman town

The cream tea at a local tea house was:
luscious
delicious
decadent
inexpensive
satisfying

The bus ride was:
longer than expected
bouncy in a bus

The museum was:
small
not completely impressive
not completely necessary
somewhat interesting
soporific

The old theatre was:
pretty awesome
mossy
quite old
rocky
day-dream inducing

The day was informative, the sun was shining, and the shrine of St Alban was a lot smaller than it appeared in the lecture power point picture yesterday.

Yet, I am always learning.
The vomitorium is not where Romans went to vomit after eating gluttonously so they could go back for seconds (bingeing and purgeing et cetera.)
A vomitorium is actually a craftily widened hallway placed underneath the seats that leads out of a theatre to the outside, so that the theatre may spew out the audience at a quicker rate rather than a clump of the entertained audience attempting to fit into a single file line at once at the end of a performance in the theatre.

News to me.

I have some things to catch up on. But sleep, for once, is not one of them! I think some of the house is making an evening of the Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers. Last night it was (shocker here) The Fellowship of the Ring. Maybe tomorrow, they'll get really crazy and watch The Return of the King. Who knows?

Tomorrow, our programme is having a Happy Unbirthday Party. I'm making dark chocolate truffles for the baking competition (which is really just a ploy to get baked goods to the Alice in Wonderland tea party.) Now what shall I wear? My friend Lis is thinking of going as the doormouse, dressing all in brown and acting extremely tired. Sounds appealing. The Mad Hatter and the March Hare characters are already spoken for. I'll see what I can do.

If only I had the perfect blue dress, white apron and small kitten...

Cheers!

back in action

2009-03-19T16:13:00.002-05:00

British Word of the Day: banger - meat product that comes in long skinny tubes, fried up and often accompanied with mash, [mashed potatoes]. (American's "sausage.") eg: "I'm making bangers tonight, will you make the mash?"

I'm back in England, after much traveling. The ferry took 7 hours (while it was moving). The trains took about 5 hours. The traveling took...a while. But I think it was worth it. I'm exhausted, and my room smells like cumin--my roommate went to Morocco for break, and brought me back a bag of cumin to spice up my night. and day. and afternoons. and mornings. I don't know where to put it so that it doesn't smell up the entire room it's in. I should find something that seals really well--Tupperware in the house seems to be in short supply at any given moment. There are always leftovers, and never any leftover Tupperware as a result. Maybe some sort of bag would work. Some "cling film" perhaps.

Tomorrow we go on a field trip all day to Veralamium / St. Alban's. It should be a good time. St Alban was an interesting fellow. There are only stories about him--nothing is proven, since it all happened so long ago.

In its most basic form, the story goes something like this.

Amphibula was a Christian in England when it wasn't so popular.
Alban was a kind-hearted...pagan.
Amphibula hid with Alban.
Alban was impressed with Amphibula's piety, and converted to Christianity.
Alban dressed up in Amphibula's cloak when the soldiers came to kill Amphibula, a renowned Christian of the area.
Alban was taken away, and crowds swarmed onto the bridge, the only passageway to the place of execution.
Alban became a saint in a matter of a few hours:
1. He prayed that God would allow him to be martyr, and God parted the river, allowing them to cross to the place of execution.
2. He prayed that God would give them water to drink when they crossed--everyone gets thirsty, even martyrs.
3. He was executed, and at the moment the ax chopped off his head, the executioner's eyes popped out of his skull. Some pictures depict the executioner catching his eyeballs having just chopped off the head of Alban, in a moment of spectacular dexterity.

Thus, he came to be known as St. Alban, the first martyr of the Christian church of England.

Tomorrow we will go to see his shrine in the church at Veralamium.

Today, I will try to read some love-letters of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. Crucial to my long-essay.

Up next: Choosing My Case Study Questions During British Landscapes, Quite Feasibly "How does knowledge of the business of theatre OR the practicalities and conventions of the theatre in Shakespeare’s lifetime affect our understanding of his work?"
and "'Through hymnody Vaughan Williams reached his widest audience and had his most profound impact on English cultural life’. Do you agree?"

More reading. More writing. What did I expect?

Cheers!

En Nederland

2009-03-15T13:13:00.002-05:00

Dutch Word of the Day: ja - [yah] - an agreement, an affirmative word. (American for "yes!") eg: "Have you just been in Holland?" "Ja!"

If you couldn't tell, my spring break is being spent in the Netherlands (the motherland.) It's absolutely wonderful, and I've certainly had my fair share of Dutch cheese, stroopwafels, and had a few windmill sightings.

Thus far, Rebekah and I have only really seen Haarlem (not to be confused with Harlem, New York) and loved it. We stopped over in Leiden to see what there was to see, and mistakenly thought that a place called Kaas Markt (Cheese Market) would actually sell cheese. Boy, were we wrong. We also learned from a local that the "Beast Market" didn't have any beasts. We are purely stupid tourists, but gathered a laugh from that one. We found Dutch cheese, nevertheless, but I heard that Gouda, Holland is now the only outdoor cheese market these days, where they have enormous wheels of cheese out on tarps for a market. A normal Dutch market worked out well enough, but Rebekah and I haven't gathered up enough courage to eat the herring yet...we'll have to try that at some point.

Right now, we're in Ermelo, with my father's cousins Jan & Coby. They're wonderful people, and we're getting the full experience, with koffietijt all the time, and koekjes (cookies) along with it.

Tomorrow, we hope to go on a bicycle tour of Ermelo, and take a small, short ferry across a man-made lake to a fisherman town...the name of which escapes me at the moment. Tomorrow evening, I may meet up with some friends in Zwolle that are studying there for the semestre--Zwolle is just a few train stops away from Ermelo. That's the great thing about Holland--you could take a 3 hour train from North to South Holland, and that's it.

You'll be hearing from me. Holland was an excellent choice. Part of me wants to live here. Part of me thinks it's just the glass of red wine talking. Maybe the cheese, too.

Cheers...or...Prost! [prohst]

Arrival of 8th week and ream of work

2009-03-11T11:41:00.003-05:00

British Word of the Day: tick - to make a mark on a paper or form. (American "check".) eg: "Tick next to your name if you've already met with your advisor this term."

Hello, all.

Today has been particularly stressful. Trying to write up my final essay for my last tutorial (probably of my life...) is excellent. I'm reading Lady Windermere's Fan and Mrs. Warren's Profession by Oscar Wilde and G.B. Shaw, respectively. I'm thinking of writing about the role of secrets, onstage and off. Censorship became an interesting part of Victorian drama, and all plays performed were to be sent into the censor of England before they were performed. G.B. Shaw went around this by having his play performed in a small independent theatre. The censor of England found out about this, and was less than ecstatic that Shaw had circumnavigated his way around this law.

Much to do.
I'm leaving for Holland via ferry on Friday evening (an overnight ferry) and will be gone until late Wednesday evening. I probably won't get a chance to write on the blog again until after spring break.

I really, really need this break.

Thanks for reading. I'll have much to put up after the term is completely over. Hilary Term ends this week, but I have 3.5 weeks of "British Landscape" towards which to look forward. (Note how awkwardly I ended that sentence withOUT a preposition.)
A funny quote on that, from a former minister of England:
“This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.” Good work, Winston.

On that note,
Cheers!

There's always more books in the library

2009-03-04T15:11:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: snigger - a quiet, grating type of laugh, usually under one's breath. (American's "snicker.") eg: "Don't snigger at me behind my back--I can hear you."

Today was another reading day. I'm onto some Sensationalist Victorian Fiction, namely The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. I've already gasped in surprise/amusement, and I'm only about 150 pages into the 650 it requires. This is due to be read by Friday, along with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Should be an adventure of a day tomorrow.

I have much to do, so I'll have to leave it at that. The weekend will be good--rejuvenating, methinks.

My long essay proposal was due on Monday, and I'm writing on how the biographical history of the Brownings affected their poetry. There are some books in the Bodleian Library I need to order up from the stacks, so I can read them when I go--instead of sitting in their uncomfortable chairs and still falling asleep.

The "stacks" that you must order from the Bod are quite literally underneath your feet when you walk in. You STAND on knowledge to enter the library. Metaphorical and literal--just my cup of tea! (Or cappucino, depending on the day and amount of sleep snatched in the early morning.)

Cheers to Friday night - Sunday afternoon!

Middlemarch & The Blue Screen of Death

2009-02-27T10:18:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: jumper - sometimes wool, sometimes acrylic, long-sleeved article of clothing. (American's "sweater"). eg: "You've gotten chocolate all over my jumper sleeve-it's dry-clean only!"

It has been quite some time since my last post.
But not without sound excuse: my computer has been less than reasonable for the past few weeks, alternating between The Blue Screen of Death (rather foreboding, though in a playful hue) and 'You are not connected to the internet' types of screens.

It's been trying my patience for a number of years now--never a Dell, never again. Problems with it since Day One.

In addition, I've begun and completed Middlemarch for 6th Week. I have fully enjoyed it, though I managed to read over 400 pages total yesterday in order to be able to discuss it with my tutor. I've been becoming paler and paler, and I'm certain that yesterday added to my increasingly British pallor. (i.e. white.)

The days seem to be getting warmer, and this morning I actually went without a full coat--it was just a light jacket. The sun broke through the Oxfordian clouds, and the dreaming spires were in full view today--it is surprising how few people here own sunglasses. I suppose there isn't much use for them here.

I've much more to do--long essay preliminary proposals are coming up, and I have to get a stack of books together to prove I'm ready to write. We're required to have 20 secondary sources on top of some primary sources (which won't prove difficult, given the outrageous amount of books they've managed to pack into this one city) and I must have read 5 of them, and read one book review on one of those 5. After getting the bibliography for all 20+ books, I will then be ready for Monday morning at 10 AM.

Weekend plans consist of:
Chapel Choir practice
Dinner at Crick
Pub crawling
Library crawling
Bibliography hunting
Napping
Churching
Eating
Tea partaking
Chapel Choir singing
Indian food eating
Reading
Reading
Reading
Resting

Until then.
Cheers!

in avoidance of Our Mutual Friend

2009-02-16T17:03:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: plasters - small bandages to put over small wounds, sometimes skin-coloured, sometimes printed with children's story characters. (American's "band-aids".)
eg: "Do you have any plasters in the house? I've cut my finger."

Not much to write in this post except:

797 pp. - Our Mutual Friend - Dickens
+Don't even want to know pp. - Felix Holt, The Radical - Eliot
________
An inestimable amount of time spent in a chair reading, with numerous tea breaks.

I'll be up for awhile. I'd like to get to p. 400-something tonight, so I can finish off Our Mutual Friend and be done with him for a while. (Until Thursday-Friday for the essay.)

This week will be interesting.

On another note, I always come across this verse, but it seemed especially poignant today:

Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.
Psalm 63:3, NIV

Don't know quite what it is. Maybe because I make such a big deal out of life, that something greater than that is mind-boggling.

Today I really needed to let go, and I was not sure exactly how. Reading my Bible generally helps, I've found. Even if my brain absolutely refuses to work, I'm still capable of reading a few Psalms and enjoying them fully.

I'm 1/2 the way through Hilary Term, and 1/3 the way through the entire programme here. I'll miss this place.

Cheers!

here comes the sun[shine]

2009-02-15T09:27:00.007-06:00

British Word of the Day: Yorkshire pudding - Not a dessert, not a pudding, but rather a puffy, eggy muffin-shaped bread. (Not a known American term/tradition/item.) eg: "This Yorkshire pudding is wonderfully light--what's the recipe?" SEE PICTURE BELOW.

Yorkshire Puddings.

Got flowers a few days ago.

Thought they were beautiful then. Boy, are they gorgeous now.

Came from Aaron. Not for Valentine's Day. But they came a few days before.

Daffodils, hyacinth, and white roses.

Included with it an e.e. cummings poem.

But.

Pictures, I'm sure:

...
Here is the deepest
secret nobody knows
(here is the root of
the root and the
bud of the bud)
and this is the
wonder that's
keeping the stars
apart, I carry you
in my heart (I carry
it in my heart.)

Cheers, as always. But especially today.

threw the baby out with it

2009-02-14T15:27:00.010-06:00

British Word of the Day: advice slip - a piece of paper printed for you after an ATM withdrawal, documenting the amount you have received. (American's "receipt") eg: "Did you grab the advice slip? I need to keep track of how much I'm spending."

Today was a very good day.

Day trip to Bath, England with Taylor. Originally the plan was to meet a group at the train station this morning around 8:15, but that was about the time we left because neither of us had paid attention to the time; the group also somehow managed to go to Salisbury today--I hope it worked well for them. Bath was a really excellent day-trip choice, and I can't imagine spending less time there. She's a day tripper, one-way ticket? NO! We bought return tickets, the smart students that we are.

Things I've learned (and on a Saturday, no less!):

Bath is ridiculously old.

The first king of all England was crowned at Bath Abbey in 923 AD.

The Roman baths have not always been there, but the naturally hot water has-- Ancient Celtics spent quite a bit of time there.

The Romans believed Sulis Minerva to be the giver of the hot springs and that they had supernatural healing qualities.

Bath's water tastes like a warm, rusty spoon. (They say you're supposed to know "where you're going" after life is over, when you drink the glass of the King's Spring water in The Pump Room. I was told this by nice, old man after I downed the glass thirstily.)

Hadrian made a law against nude bathing. Nobody listened.

Romans were incredibly advanced: lead pipes lead from "The Sacred Spring" to other baths in the building. They made a heating system to warm up the slabs of rock surrounding the Baths. They had beautiful brick arches covering the entire bath house unsupported in the middle--that's a ridiculous amount of weight for one building.

Want to know more? Go to Bath yourself!

It's picture time.

Bath Abbey. Ridiculously old.

The sun was bright on the pools of Bath.

The very ancient Roman baths.

Aesthetically pleasing rocks.

View from across. Someone posing.

The source of the springs.

A sculpture found near the Bath site: a Mastiff eating a deer, they said. I believe it. But not our family's Mastiff. He only ate our leftovers--generally not so keen on having to catch his dinner.

Pool of Minerva--note the coinage.
Standing near the bathwater.

Man dressed as ancient Roman priest, asking Minerva's "blessing".

The town of Bath, Abbey tower in background.

Hope you enjoyed this picture post!

I have to get to bed before I fall asleep on the zzzzz key.

Cheers!

i was just guessing at numbers and figures

2009-02-10T16:23:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: tuck shop - delicious smells often waft through open doors of these, with display cases of sandwiches, fudge, and assorted treats. (American's "snack shop".) eg: "Let's stop by the tuck shop on the way back from the lecture--I'm half-starved, but don't want dinner yet."

I'm avoiding another essay that must be done by tomorrow at 11. Not sure what will become either of the essay or of me, but I did have some Turkish Delight this evening. (Lemon. It was excellent.)

I've wasted too much time today to somehow reward myself with a good, cathartic blog post.

I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. (II.ii.185)

Cheers!

rich tea, high tea, english breakfast, darjeeling.

2009-02-09T19:01:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: fringe - section of shorter hair over the forehead; may be longer or shorter, but is shorter than the rest of the haircut. (American's "bangs") eg: "I love your new fringe, even though it sometimes covers your eyes."

There are too many options in this world. Right now it's between blogging and writing an outline to my essay on The Winter's Tale. I should think it obvious which of the two I've chosen.

Drinking herbal tea at 1 AM is not all that effective. But I decided to lay off the caffeine. I've had 3 cups of coffee and 3 cups of tea throughout the day, all caffeinated. Time to give it up.

My experience at the Baptist Church on Sunday was wonderful. I went over to a host & hostess' house for Sunday dinner and two kinds of dessert. They were excellent people. After the meal, my stomach looked rather distended, though it was virtually the opposite. I had free food again last night as well, after I sang at Wadham's Evensong.

Tonight I made spicy apricot-glazed chicken. It was quite good, though chicken is kind of a boring meat in general. Next time I'll cut slits in and spoon the glaze inside of it. It was good with a side of mushroom risotto and roasted broccoli and brussel sprouts with olive oil.

Next week, we'll see what happens. I'd really like to try my hand at chocolate truffles; we'll see how far that idea gets.

I've an essay to outline. Greetings from Oxford to you; it rains and snows and sleets. The precipitation has made most things dreadfully icy and it has become difficult to walk on the pavement instead of the road, especially when you're late for a lecture or a tutorial.

Cheers!

forensics and meteorology [not]

2009-02-07T17:23:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: cheery - light-hearted, joking; to be able to have fun. "We've known each other for a while, so I can be cheery with him."

Today was a good one. I slept in quite late, of which I am not ashamed, seeing as how I slept for zero hours the night before to get my essay done.

My essay on Classical women portrayed in Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South was factual, organized and clear.

But I made no point--never answered the question, 'Why?'

Rats! I had the sneaking suspicion I was "missing something."

I have a certain Annie Hall to watch, so I better git.

It's been snowing. One day I'll put up the two pictures I've taken. One day.Someday.Soon.

Today:

Woke up late.
Ate pancakes.
Went to coffee to study for four hours.
Made scrambled eggs for dinner.
Received excellent pasta scrapings from Junior Dean Jonathan.
Watched Seinfeld - the JOHN Voight's Car episode.
Baked chocolate chunk cookies.
--chopped up chocolate bars because chocolate chips don't exist here; only as a different kind of cookies:

I have to go; my roommate is talking on skype, etc. And,

Annie waits. For the last time.

Cheers!

ooh, wicked!

2009-02-02T08:48:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: surgery - an office containing a waiting room, nurses, receptionists, tinier exam rooms and doctors. (An American's "doctor's office"). eg: "Did you make my appointment for the surgery yet? My cold keeps getting worse."

If you couldn't tell already, the past...week is it? has been more than time-consuming. I've been reading Elizabeth Gaskell's North & South. I'm supposed to have read Wives & Daughters by tomorrow with a full essay in hand complete with critical sources to back it up. And here I am, blogging to you complaining about it. I'm not even going to crack open W & D.

Next week will probably be worse, since I have two essays due instead of just the one.

Awesome.

I must go. A lecture on Victorian fiction today @ 10.

Cheers!

not enough time

2009-01-27T15:55:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: nappy - (often) disposable absorbent underpants for infants and young children. (American's "diaper.") eg: "Who put the stinky nappy in the garbage can in the kitchen?"

I haven't much time.

Had much tea.

Having coffee.

Writing an essay for tomorrow on the usage of symbolism of babies and children in Macbeth. About 3/4 done, the way I see it. There was no page requirement. I'll go with 5 pages.

Going to be done soon, maybe. So much to say, but not sure it's all important and ties together.

Favourite phrase of the day: "Infantile imbecile." Approximate rhyming is also a new favourite.

Cheers!

but what about the Oxford companion?

2009-01-25T19:04:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: torch - An illuminating tool, generally used while camping with an on/off switch or button. (American's "flashlight"). eg: "Quick, grab the torch! I heard something over there!"

I wonder if they storm any castles with pitchforks and torches anymore. Perhaps not.

This morning:
Greek Orthodox Church - Church of the Ascension. Much incense and gold. Was looking for the myrrh. Keep you updated. Was mostly strange and distracting and not sustaining. Baptist Church next week--for sure.

This afternoon:
Read Cymbeline aloud with Megan, a new Oxford friend. Took us 2.5 hours. It was definitely a tragicomedy. (Not everyone died in the end.)
Had a cup of excellent french press coffee.
Grabbed Battenburg cake, a chocolate digestive biscuit, a grape, and a tangerine and ran off to Wadham College for choir practice until 6:30

This evening:
Sang several songs during Evensong at Wadham College Chapel. Sang worse than in practice. Will get better.
Ate after the service for free at the church including: roast chicken with mushrooms, cheesy eggplant, delicious potatoes, carrot chips, broccoli, and all with a glass of white wine! This people know how to party--even at church!

I have much sleep to get.

Cheers!

hilary term-inal illness

2009-01-24T18:07:00.004-06:00

British Word of the Day: Gammon steak - fleshy pork slab served atop "chips" topped with fried eggs. (American's ham.) eg: "I thought I got the Gammon steak, not the ham--oh dear."

Ordered the Gammon steak and eggs at The Eagle & Child with a Guinness. However, when I came back from getting my pint, I was surprised to find a pink hunk of ham on my plate atop a pile of chips. I ate it anyway, not about to waste a single pound.

Soon, I'm going to bed. I've read a few sections of Tennyson (it's entirely too long of a poem) and I've read Macbeth and written some notes on it. I hope to read Cymbeline for fun tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm going to a Greek Orthodox church just down the road; I'm sure that will be interesting. Very soon I need to try the Woodstock Road Baptist Church, but I cannot find anyone to go with me. Next week--it's become a mantra: next week, next week, next week.

Tired of it.

On a happier note, I've finally figured out the name of my favourite English confectionary delight:

Battenburg Cake -- a checkered inside, a marzipan outside. A wonderful joy for the taste buds.Supremely delicious Battenburg cakes. Good luck finding them in the U.S.!

We have Sunday afternoon tea tomorrow at 4:30, as per usual at Crick. I'll have to leave nearly straightaway for practice at Wadham College Chapel for Evensong tomorrow night at 6:30. I've already rooked several persons into coming Lovely!

Cheers!

one thing i know

2009-01-23T16:58:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: pudding - Any kind of sweet generally eaten after dinner, following something savoury with something sweet--and NOT just liquidy tapioca, vanilla, chocolate, or butterscotch. (American's "dessert"). eg: "Is anyone else getting pudding? I don't want to be the only one; I'm getting the chocolate eclair."

I know. It's been a couple of days since my last post. It was a mad, mad couple of days. But my essay for Victorian Literature is complete (also complete-ly horrible) but it was 2,000+ words; I'll do a better one next time.

My Victorian tutor did not make me cry--she was rather entertaining. She did a bit of joking under her breath, which was really hard to catch, especially with her accent and all that. However, she's from Sydney, Australia, and I could tell immediately that she didn't have a conventional accent, and figured she was from Down Under, but I didn't want to ask.

I made bread yesterday night. I must say, not much is as satisfying as a warm slice of bread you've baked yourself with a bit of strawberry jam on it.

I'll be making some again next week, I bet. I'm almost down to half the loaf already (I split it with Amanda). The only thing bad about the bread is that we didn't bake it quite long enough, and it's quite small slices--it gets stuck in the toaster and I burn my fingers trying to get it out.)

I'll make it bigger next time.

Today, I tried out for Wadham Chapel Choir, and I made it! I was quite pleased. There's another guy in the SCIO program with me that also made it, so we see each other while we're there, but we live at two different houses.

However, this evening I made friends named Sally and Claire. Wonderful singers; there's about fifteen of us in total, of which I am a Soprano I. I love it; we've started working on a piece by Palestrina that's simply beautiful. So many pieces resound well in the chapel, but the director has chosen very renaissance (pronounced reh-NAY-sahns) pieces, and I can't get enough!

Modern Day Wadham College.

We'll sing on Sunday (every Sunday) at 6:30 for Evensong, and we get there at 5 to brush up on our songs. However, the biggest sadness: practice on Fridays from 5:30 - 7. That's a ton! Oh well. We already sounded awesome; I'm supremely excited.

This weekend I'll be reading Macbeth and Cymbeline, both Shakespeare, as well as three Tennyson plays. Both Macbeth and Tennyson will be involving an essay. Wooh! Shakespeare's due Wednesday, Tennyson's due Friday. No biggie.

Went to the Three Goats Heads pub tonight. It was fair, and the meat and ale pie looked oh-so-tasty. I actually grabbed a bite from the kebab van on the way from choir practice to the pub, so I couldn't reason spending more money on an unhealthy dinner. Next time. Next time.

I'm exhausted today. tonight. whatever it is. I have to call it a day.

Until then, cheers!

small triumphs: successfully avoided eating a slice of chocolate cake

2009-01-20T17:25:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: coffee - a watery brownish substance that stands in for an alternative only when the tea cupboard has proved completely bare and one is in need of caffeine.

I kid. My coffee habits haven't changed, and so I've found the coffee in England (of my own making) quite to my own liking. The Crick House is fully equipped with two French presses and I've just bought Peruvian coffee from Sainsbury's. (It was the cheapest one...)

But Really: crèche - a supervised room, area, or playplace for young children, found helpful especially during church services. (American's nursery). eg: "Honey, could you go get the kids from the crèche? I'll get us some watery coffee."

I went to another lecture today on Realism and Romance. It's beginning to occur to me that I should have started in literature from the very beginning: the Classics. No, not the "classics." I mean Ovid. I mean Homer. I mean Aristotle.

The books that the authors I currently study have read all of these old Greek and Roman tragedies, symposiums, and myths. If one is to understand the author one is studying, I feel as though I should have started where they did.

Feeling anthropological.

I really should be finishing skimming Wuthering Heights. It's actually a terribly emotional book, especially with the famous lines the terrible Catherine (the original) speaks about her affinity with Heathcliff:

"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees--my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath--a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff--he's always, always in my mind...as my own being..."

So much to skim and type up, so little time.

I may stay up unhealthily late this evening to ensure the reading and essay will be in my tutor's hands by Friday afternoon.

Tomorrow I may attempt bread-making. Eep.

Cheers!

mellow as the month of may

2009-01-19T17:15:00.004-06:00

British Word of the Day: bollard - a large, mechanized post that can come out of the ground in pathways to keep out unwanted motorists off of walkways. (No American matches found.) eg: "Look out for the bollard when you're walking out of the University Parks." (See Below)

Bollards.

Today was surprisingly relaxing as far as "the first day of classes" goes. Maybe it's because they're not really classes, they're lectures. My first was "The Winter's Tale: Tragedy into Romance" and the second was "Shakespeare's Late Plays", both by Dr. Pitcher. The final "lecture" of the day was actually a film screening of Shakespeare. Tonight was Hamlet, starring Ethan Hawke, Bill Murray (excellent performance), and Julia Stiles. It was quite modern, as it took place in New York City. The most wonderful / ironic portion of the whole thing was the "To be or not to be" portion. Famous lines demand much attention.

This portion took place in Blockbuster. Hamlet scans the shelves asking himself whether to live or die. As he soliloquizes for far less time in the play (yet the audience still grows uneasy and bored), he walks through several aisles of ACTION films, the pennants on either side declaring exactly what he is not doing. ACTION ACTION ACTION ACTION. And Hamlet is all talk until the very end. He waggles his gun like a baby throughout the movie, never having enough guts to shoot the incestuous murderers of his father.

Quite good.

Eric&Alex (affectionately called so), I haven't decided on a favoured reading spot in the Cam yet. I have more reading to do. Again, I'll let you know at end of Hilary Term, until then, I demand silence on this point. Or something close to it.

Yesterday I laid Jane Eyre in the dust. I would bury it in the backyard, but as it is rootless, nothing will come of it. I can give it to someone else to read.

Wuthering Heights is next. This one I'll mostly skim, as I've just recently read it (within the year).

In other news, not scholarly: I COOKED TODAY. I made a most excellent curry chicken with brown rice, apples, raisins, a LOT of onions, cilantro, yogurt, and bananas. it sounds terribly fruity, i know, but the curry over took the lot of it, and the apples especially soaked up the flavour. I wager I have never made anything more tasty than what I cooked with Amanda tonight. We also made chocolate cake in a mug, from a promising looking blogger's recipe. It turned out somewhat like lava cake, and I made whipped cream, and cut up an apricot.

This cooking thing is awesome. If you have money and time.
Both are in short supply, but I'll only be cooking once or twice a week for a lot of people. It was a thrill!

We ate rather late, so we made a starter plate of sliced bell peppers.

I haven't felt this accomplished in quite some time, which is dangerous. It makes me justify not reading and not writing because I spent so much time cooking dinner for 6 of us.

But I'm terribly happy. Dinner was so good. I made it myself.

I have to get on with things. I'm going to a Victorian literature lecture tomorrow at 12.00 so I'll get up early tomorrow and skim Wuthering Heights for good narrative conflict for Friday's 6.5 page paper.

In other, OTHER news: I saw Queen Susan from Narnia. She is quite a bit shorter than I imagined, and much to my comfort, she was walking into Introduction to Late Medieval Literature as I walked out of "The Winter's Tale." One of my new guy friends confessed his undying love for Queen Susan, and declared his wish to find and woo her. I gave him her digits. Of the classroom she went to today, that is.

Anna Popplewell as Narnia's Queen Susan.

I only looked at her once, and calmly walked away, but the first person I saw with whom I was acquainted got an earful of: "GUESS who I just saw! Queen Susan from Narnia!"

Or something like that.

There were no double-takes, I promise. But she goes to Magdalen College, in Oxford. And has a hankering for Medieval Literature, I suppose.

Much to do. (But not about nothing.)

Cheers!

you asked for it

2009-01-18T10:08:00.014-06:00

British Word of the Day: juicy bits - Small, drinkable fruit fragments found in citrus juice. (American's pulp.) eg: "I don't like orange juice with juicy bits; buy the kind without next time."

Pictures, you say?

Good man. You know just how to ask. And I know just how to answer:

New friends Brit and Taylor pose in front of the Radcliffe Camera--my new reading spot.

At The Chequers Pub. (L to R: me, Daena, Rebekah, Anna)

Rebekah and me outside of Oxford Castle.

Christ Church Cathedral.

Painted glass window of Jonah and a not-so-eastern looking Nineveh.

Stained glass series (Christ Church)

Christ Church Cathedral Ceiling. Alliteration!

Best Photo of the Day: Christ Church's steeple.

The Great Dining Hall. (Free breakfast for season ticket holders--whatever that means.)

The East side outside of Christ Church.

A blue door & me.

Chinatown! (London's, of course.)

Jane Eyre awaits me.
Took a half-hour nap today, had some tea and digestives, and I'm set to go for another evening.

Blessings and cheers!

so tired

2009-01-17T19:24:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: snippet - a small portion of description to get a feel for the whole, especially in library catalogues. (America's "abstract.") eg: "Quick, read the snippet, so you'll know if you want the book or not."

Today's entry will be short. Sound the alarum.

Went into London today, with Jane Eyre in my bag. Came back and she was still in there. And I still wasn't through with her. I don't believe I will be until tomorrow evening. 150 more pages to read in that one, and then on to Wuthering Heights.

I, I will survive.

Tomorrow is church. Today, I guess. That really means I should go to bed.

London:
-Saw St. Paul's Cathedral on the inside. It was spectacular--much more than my liberal arts math project on architect/mathematician Sir Christopher Wren could ever have shown. There was so much detail and there were mosaics everywhere. We had made it just in time for Evensong by the All Boys' Choir at St. Paul's. The music was so beautiful, so pure, and so rich that it sounded as if the Cathedral was singing itself, from its very soul--from the inside out. I can't imagine a more beautiful choir. I nearly wept during the first song.
-Ate in Chinatown. Was hungry an hour later.
-Saw Piccadilly Circus. Was under the impression that it was called "circus" not because there would be exotic animals, but because the general layout of the place was rather like a circle. It's hard to judge when one is in media res. I still don't know what the "circus" is all about. I could google.uk it, I suppose. No one would know, except for you, reader. (Dear reader, Jane Eyre has already had a disadvantageous effect on my writing style. Disaster will ensue; I am sure of it.)
-Went to / Came back on a rather expensive bus that took 2 hours to take us back (about average.) So, no, Oxford is NOT in the middle of London, contrary to popular belief.

Yesterday:
-Visited The Trout Pub. There was about an hour of trudging involved, as it had just rained that afternoon. I cleaned my new Chucks thoroughly upon my return. The Pub was nice. Not going again, unless I feel the need to work up an appetite for my next round of fish and chips and Guinness.
-Attempted to complete Jane Eyre. It was a hearty attempt--over 150 pages done this morning, afternoon, and night.

Conclusions:
-Jane Eyre is no good the second time around. You know the exact plot, and you dread the 30 pages of her wandering through the heath. Any minute now, I'll come up on the page where she deserts Mr. Rochester and Thornfield and I'll skip those long, boring pages during which a missionary tries to subdue her feminine will by whisking her away to some foreign land.

Fool! Jane Eyre cannot be had. Neither by me, nor by any. Every one of Jane's relationships is a failed one. (Credits to Elisabeth Wenger for that last idea, at its most basic.)

How do I expect to receive knowledge from Jane Eyre--is not it a relationship of book to reader? Of character to consumer?

I'd really like to put it away and dwell more on Heathcliff and Catherine and the incessant darkness of Wuthering Heights, but that shall come soon enough.

Cheers and good night!

P.S. St. Aldate's church tomorrow. I hear it's charismatic. (By whose standards, I know not.)

a good start (un-serious tone)

2009-01-15T17:09:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: cling film - a clear, thin, plastic sheet torn from a tube to cover left-over food items. (America's "Saran-Wrap" or "Cling-Tite" for those of you with cheaper tastes). eg: "Put the cling film on tighter, so the food stays fresh."

Went to Christ Church College today. Saw oodles of stained glass, some medieval, some obviously not (placing toilets anachronistically and discreetly in the background of a medieval depiction of Frideswide, who is buried in the Cathedral.)

It was simply beautiful there, and we also saw the hall in which a portion of Harry Potter was filmed. Hogwarts isn't a real place, but Oxford is. And I'm living here. Surreal.

There are memorials to several people including the father of William Wilberforce, first name Samuel, W.H. Auden, John Locke and other wonderfully lofty people.

In scholarly/mathematical news:

I have to read Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. Hoping to do this ere the weekend is through, so I can devote a lot of time to attending lectures throughout Oxford. I must be missing the logical portion of my brain.

Jane Eyre = 447 pages
Wuth. Hts = 414 pages
-----
861 pages + (2,000 word essay) = V1

I'm not exactly sure how one would add those up. But I can explain this: the constant, V, is for Victorian. The 1 subscript is for the first week.

With that fully explained, I think it's obvious that my work is most certainly cut out for me.

Also, today. An example of my bad cooking skills. I attempted to make hot chocolate this evening with baking cocoa. Brilliant!

Cheers!

her goal in life was to be an echo

2009-01-14T16:24:00.003-06:00

British Word of the Day: sharon fruit - an orange-red fruit that is edible only when ripe. (America's persimmon.) eg: "Don't eat that sharon fruit yet, you'll be poisoned!"

Well, last night after I did my daily blog, we all went out to Chequers. "HISTORIC PUB" it read as I entered the doorway. There was a "poet's bench" though I didn't look closely enough to find out why it was historic, exactly. My pint of Strongbow was too good and the friends were too captivating.

However:

Today I received a different reading list, because they switched my tutor for Victorian literature. To be frank, I was not pleased. But it's not going to be horrible, since I didn't do too much preparatory work for the course. In fact, I should be doing some right now. However, the reading list is a bit up for debate, my tutor said.

The narration and character of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights are the essay topics for next 2,000 word essay due next week Friday. I have a reasonable amount of time to re-read those classics and get to work on an essay, all while going to London this weekend, visiting a baptist church 30 minutes away with free lunch, and going to tons of lectures this week.

This Oxford stuff is crazy business. My sister Reanna joked with me and told me, "You should go sit down in the library and be surrounded by books you know you'll never have time to read." In this city of 11 million books (probably more) reading one at a time is torturous, treacherous, terrible!

I need to make so many adjustments to the way I spend my time, including doing this "daily" blog. (I've already ruined that one, haven't I?)

I'll need support from back home. Emotional and especially spiritual. I obviously can't do anything by myself, and I'll be the first to admit it. Please keep me in your prayers as I go through the semester, and don't forget to write! Message me if you need the mailing address or my e-mail address.

Please pray for: my sanity throughout the semester, my spiritual life to get back on track, the reading to be quick, and my writing to come easy (within reason).

This will be a learning experience of every kind, and I don't doubt that there will be some rough parts, but I pray that I learn from those as much as from the easier parts of the term.

Blessings, and cheers!

2009-01-13T09:59:00.004-06:00

British Word of the Day: expiry - (eks-PI-ree) an ending, a cut-off time (American's "expiration") eg: "Well, did you check the expiry date on the milk?"

I didn't blog yesterday. I can't believe it. Please forgive me.

Today was another orientation day (shocking, I know). I'm listening to Pink Floyd's "Goodbye Blue Sky" not to be creepy, but because it's English, and means more than war--it rained today, and there will be about 179 more days of that weather business by the end of this year, I've heard.

Simon Lancaster, an Scholar's Semestre in Oxford's go-to-guy, said, "In England, there's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes." I enjoyed him immediately. (It also helped that the evening of the same day, he had Katie Melua and Andrew Bird playing on his computer.)

This evening, I have some soup to make. We have cooking groups here at Crick House and I've joined one with a girl that's already made two loaves of bread for everyone since we've been here. I have a lot to learn, and I figure she might be a bit more experienced than I.

I need to contact my professors as well, so we can make a meeting time. They're both within reasonable walking distance of The Crick (probably within 10 minutes). The other house is huge and amazing, and everyone there seems like bundles of fun, but they're on the upper edge of Oxford, making walking cause blisters and sore joints and muscles. They'll get more exercise that way, but many of them will buy a bike before the week is through, is my bet.

Until next time,
Cheers!

mac and cheese, thinking outside of the blue box

2009-01-11T17:04:00.002-06:00

British Word of the Day: litter (pronounced LI'-tuh) - refuse, waste, garbage. (An American's trash) eg: "Put that in the litter bin, under the sink."

Today was another one.

I'm quite exhausted, but I've decided that there will be more days like this, more worthy of my exhaustion--probably days that I actually read more than 2 pages at once.

I attended two church services today. Both in the morning, incidentally, at St. Andrew's church, a parish church. I attended the 8 AM and the 9:30. The first had no music and we read several times out of the book of common prayer, which was new to me (the book, at least.)

During the services I was struck in two ways:
1) How heathenistic does our communion sound to those who have never heard of drinking our Saviour's blood and feeding on his flesh? (This was simply because the Book of Common Prayer worded it differently than I'd ever heard before.)
2) How religiously-based Oxford really is, compared with the rest of the spiritually dark Europe.

St. Andrew's has a wonderful programme for everyone that is young of age (me three years ago, say) and has several different names for them, very active, like, Crawlers, Creepers, Jumpers, Soul Survivors, etc. It sounds almost like a scientific experiment gone horribly wrong, but it seems to have gone in the other direction: wonderfully right! There were children galore in the service, along with plenty of participation from the youth. St. Andrew's is completely thriving, in a very healthy way, it seems like.

Tomorrow is orientation--serious business. With a planned schedule from 9-4. I really am a professional student these days. On Thursday we'll stop with the orientation business and finally get to have free time again--to meet with our tutors and decide when to meet with them each week (primary tutors) and when to meet with them fortnightly (every two weeks, secondary tutors).

I look forward to it all.

Cheers!

P.S. If you wonder about the blog titles, just ask; I'll be happy to tell. I'm not certain if it's exciting blog material or not.

bobbies without guns

2009-01-10T17:33:00.005-06:00

British word of the day: tea towels - a towel used for drying off dishes, not decorative but not to be soiled with wiping up messes (America's dish towel)

Today was a good day. I have a feeling there will be a good amount of these sorts of days. It was still a bit cold, but I woke up at 7:30, and upon noticing my roommates still fast asleep, decided to sleep in until a very luxurious and unusual 8:00. I began a few postcards, and drank some more tea.

I ate my first digestive biscuits today--they are cookies that aid in digestion that have one side dipped in chocolate (which, in turn, makes them slightly more appealing than just calling them "digestives") Unfortunately, I find myself eating nearly anything that is dipped in chocolate. This isn't the worst thing I've eaten after getting here. Much better than mince pie:

We went for a jaunt about Oxford this afternoon, and it was fun to see things, and actually recognize them from my trip to Oxford during the Beatles interim in England. Surprisingly, I arrived exactly one year later in the UK than I did last year--the immigrations officer was extremely confused as to why I had a stamp from Heathrow with exactly the same date. She excused her mistake with her forgetfulness of the new year--I told her that I still had trouble that I was remembering it was 2009 instead of 2008. I do like writing 8's so much better than 9's. An unfortunate year change (as far as writing numbers goes.)

Today I saw the covered market, which is one of my favourite places here--there's a coffee shop that I was told about that has a really cutesy, girly name, with pink and purple things everywhere. (I may be in line for the next Queen of Ambiguousness--splendid.) And now I've forgotten who told me the place--I'll have to ask around because my memory seems to fail me so often. I'll find it sometime.

I also saw St. Mary Magdalene's church; it's beautiful and apparently they have a modern praise and worship. Not exactly what I'm looking for. And tomorrow, I believe I'm going to the 8 AM service at St. Andrew's. I've heard it's fairly popular with the students at SCIO, but I'm going to try to find a smaller church later on and get to know the people there really well, and let them get to know me, and recognize my face when I come in. But the preaching must be interesting, good, and quite anecdotal. It will be a "Rog" stand-in, I guess.

Saw a Starbucks today. Disappointed. Although, the Brits do have both Costa Coffee and Caffe Nero, both chains, and not much different. No strange creature for the logo, though.

We start our term the week after next; until then, it's orientation, orientation, orientation.

Until tomorrow (I hope), cheers!

arrivals & discoveries

2009-01-09T14:31:00.003-06:00

British word of the day: queue - a standing line (eg: "Please form a queue behind the counter.")

I've landed, if you couldn't tell.

We made about four circles 'round a city name Something-Upon-Something (the exact name escapes me) and then finally landed in London/Heathrow.

From there I took a rather EXPENSIVE coach to Oxford and then took a taxi to Crick Road. This will be home for the next 3 months. The bathroom smells like fresh paint and there seems to be an endless supply of tea. What kind of island is this?

Because of impending jet lag, many girls at the Crick went for a walk with a girl in her second semester. It was cold, brisk, invigorating (yes, all that) and within minutes, I couldn't remember whether I had toes or not. I checked when I returned and indeed i did have them. I placed them immediately above the room's heater.

i have some clocks to reset and some e-mails to respond to as well as a bit of skype-ish things to download, so excuse me.

cheers!
marissa

inner nets

2009-01-06T14:37:00.002-06:00

struggle between getting worthless ethernet connection fixed and [ab]using the wireless connection here at Trinity.

struggle?

constant.

but i will do this--following is a video of singing a happy birthday song for my sister, Reanna. She is in her last year of 20's: twenty-nine. maybe she'll turn 29 again next year.

i did forget the words for a second, but i come back strong, and aaron certainly reinforces it with ample facial expressions.

victoriana

2008-12-23T00:16:00.000-06:00

got my reading lists for hilary term via e-mail today.

the victorian novel tutorial is going to kill me.

but i think i might die with a smile on my face, knowing that i know all that i can know about victoriana in england.

wish i was a vampire

2008-12-12T01:57:00.003-06:00

i am finally done with living on campus at college.

and i am so done.
eternally.

i'm moving out and moving up.
and i will enjoy cooking my own food and doing my own dishes, thanks.

happy x-mas (exams are over).

i am tired. bone tired. i don't think this would be a very good time to get sick, but it will probably happen once i reach home.

now i have to conjure up 15 bones before i fly home for my massive suitcase that could never stand in for a carry-on.

wish i was a vampire.
i wouldn't have to spend money on food.

thought that's what counted.

2008-12-03T01:47:00.006-06:00

She bit the inside of her lip. Blood. The tuneless whistling was driving her to distraction. No, not just distraction—bloody inaction. Confusion. Her eyes burned and her contacts were dying to get out, fogging her vision, clouding her sight, and making her usually visual life a ridiculous hassle.

It wasn’t worth trying anymore. It was one in the morning and she had a presentation due the next day. She had an essay torn to shreds by a well-meaning teacher. She had….she had no idea what to do with herself apart from complain.

She had a cup of coffee, or, she did. Now only the dregs were left. The French press coffee was good. The leftover liquid coffee nuggets left in the mug afterward? Not so good.

A mascara fleck jumped into her eye from her dating anniversary makeup. She blinked her right eye slowly, deliberately. Didn’t work. She wanted to look nice tonight. Just to give him a reminder that she could get dressed up, decked out, get out, go out. Some days were better than others, but it had been two years, after all. That was pretty long by anyone’s standards, married or unmarried. Or divorced, I guess.

He bought her a ring. Not an engagement ring. It was a cameo ring. It was a one-size-fits-all, a mass-produced ring circa 1978. But it was definitely the thought that counted. She looked at it more closely a couple of hours later. It read “AVON” juxtaposed next to the tiniest copyright symbol she had ever seen. So it wasn’t one of a kind, she thought. But it is now, I guess. She still swore to wear it. She didn’t swear aloud, of course. This would require a witness. And an accountability to this swearing. This she did not need. She would wear it every time she wore gold, which was at least once a month.

He bought it because it matched her cameo earrings, affectionately named Julia and Athena, for the pale, white, Greek women placed inside the boundary of the deep orange ovals. They swung a lot when she walked, which she liked. Some of her earrings whistled when the wind blew through them. The metal was shaped just right. On a still day, she sprinted when no one was looking, so she could hear the earrings sing to her. They were the only things that sang to her. Singing to herself didn’t count. But those were the kinds of earrings she liked. Dangly, musical earrings that glimmered when sunbeams got caught in them. The kind that sang when the wind hugged their curves.

She would wear prisms in her ears if they weren’t so dang heavy.

turkey day eve

2008-11-26T13:47:00.003-06:00

well, it's another thanksgiving.

which leaves me wondering:
where did this whole thing come from? was it really abraham lincoln? how is our nation so ridiculous that we disguise our gluttony with so-called "thanks"?

this is perplexing.

but i still welcome that tryptophan-loaded turkey.

more so the can-shaped cranberry sauce, sliced with a butter knife.

thanksgiving, thanksgiving,
it's not about living,
it's all about eating our whole lives away.

thanksgiving, thanksgiving,
it's all worth forgiving,
that one vice of gluttony just for one day.

what can i say, holidays make me a poet.

[yes i know. thanksgiving is about family. families bond over food. necessary "evils." necessary delicious "evils."]

peace,
marissa

garage band

2008-11-15T20:17:00.005-06:00

i broke out garage band.
out of Justine's computer.

And in honour of Christmastime coming soon, I wrote a Christmas song and recorded only two verses of the five i've written. It's called "O, Venture Forth Ye Shepherds Trembling." Yes, it's kind of a hymn...

Click here to listen!

It's in the works. But I have an essay to re-write.

"The Dead" is killing me.

A Walking Simile

2008-11-11T16:35:00.002-06:00

I can only be as good as what I read.

Even then, not as good.

I write because I must. When then, can I read? How then, can I become a better writer? I don't assume that my writing will simply improve itself as a wound on a human body. The Vitamin K is programmed in; we are not so, and experience is not Vitamin K.

Experience is a scar, proclaiming the experience of a cut, a
slice, a
hemorrhage.

I can only be a walking
simile--never quite you, and
never quite me

All of this because of a lousy essay grade. Really lousy. I despise mediocrity. Better a "You are exceedingly good at this" or a "You better try another discipline; this one is not for you" rather than a "This wasn't great. You aren't great."

Feeling not so great. Feeling like a re-do of this paper isn't the only thing begging for revision.

they'll make a statue of us...or a video

2008-11-08T14:03:00.003-06:00

Jake made a music video for "William and Betsy" by The Winston Jazz Routine. Enjoy.

Jordan video'd us singing "You Really Got A Hold on Me" in the style of She & Him (originally by Smokey Robinson). Be kind. We couldn't hear or see each other very well at all.

I'm not really sure why I'm posting these things.

Maybe so it's not just words.

i'm not wide awake, it's barely morning

2008-11-08T11:07:00.003-06:00

it's 11:08.

I need to take a shower, read some Yeats and Eliot, research birds in Romantic & Victorian literature, research solar power, and get the rest of my Oxfordian things in the mail.

it's 11:09.

On Leonard Cohen

2008-11-07T19:36:00.004-06:00

Before I say a word more of my own, you should know a bit of Leonard Cohen and how he relates to my infantile efforts of blogging.

The Sparrows

Catching winter in their carved nostrils
the traitor birds have deserted us,
leaving only the dullest brown sparrows
for spring negotiations.

I told you we were fools
to have them in our games,
but you replied:
They are only wind-up birds
who strut on scarlet feet
so hopelessly far
from our curled fingers.

I had moved to warn you,
but you only adjusted your hair
and ventured:
Their wings are made of glass and gold
and we are fortunate
not to hear them splintering
against the sun.

Now the hollow nests
sit like tumors or petrified blossoms
between the wire branches
and you, an innocent scientist,
question me on these brown sparrows:
whether we should plant our yards with breadcrumbs
or mark them with the black, persistent crows
whom we hate and stone.

But what shall I tell you of migrations
when in this empty sky
the precise ghosts of departed summer birds
still trace old signs;
or of desperate flights
when the dimmest flutter of a coloured wing
excites all our favourite streets
to delight in imaginary spring.

I wanted to start this blog in what seems to be the eye of the storm.

I've just sent the magazine Openings to the printer. It only took me from May until now to get it together.

And I can finally breathe. and breathe . and breathe .

Now I just have to get all the constituents of my Oxford application in the mail.

On a somewhat different note, I'm going to put something up that I wrote at about two in the morning. If you can make no sense of it, please forgive. I've become an expert at wasting others' time. But I hope it's an interesting waste of time.

I can’t believe sometimes how much I miss my mother. Her blood runs through my veins—I still miss her when I’m halfway across the country from her—the connection we’ve made when I’ve been home in between my educational experiences (also known as semesters) has been immense. We’ve become best friends. She gives me advice when I don’t ask. I give her advice when she doesn’t ask. There’s this t-shirt that she used to wear all the time. It says “Mom’s Taxi Service.” It’s horribly garish, with yellow and black screen printing of ‘80s typeface and a taxi’s checkerboard pattern reminiscent of some big city to which I’ve never even been. She’d wear it with stirrup leggings. Matching black ones, of course. I used to think that shirt was horrible, but I’d give almost anything to see that shirt on her right here, right now. I just want to go home.

I just want to go home. I don’t want to grow up. I think maybe I just want to mean that much to someone—to have someone give anything to see me in an old, familiar t-shirt.

I don’t want to write this essay. I want to talk and laugh with my mother. I want to discuss Leonard Cohen with my brother. I want to learn how to change a car tire with my dad. I want to watch the third High School Musical movie with my sister. I want to be elitist and hate things and make sentimental music with my eldest brother.

I want to have a family. I want to continue to be loved. I really don’t want our family to split up.

I don’t want to have a family. I don’t want to lose anyone’s love. I don’t want raise a family that will split and explode across the country, as if jetted off like a drop of water by a Rainbird sprinkler system.

I never want to bury anyone I love. I don’t want to have heartache. Just thinking about all of these things gives me heartache. Just giving into the idea that I’ll lose someone. I can’t lose. I can’t lose. I can’t lose.

I can’t swallow this fear that I’ll do the same thing as them. I’ll raise a family, with love stretched thin between everyone. With heartstrings that span across the country.

I think that's all I'll do for now.

P.S. Here's Openings
The font on this online style is completely screwed up, but some of you may be able to see it in its physical, printed version.

P.P.S. Does anyone know the rules of use for "further" and "farther"? I'm certain I could look it up online. I'd much rather have a person's factual comment.