Happiness Is a Warm Cup of Tea

To be perfectly honest, I'm currently fighting against various forms of despondency and illness. 

I went out this morning, in the rain, on foot (partially because I accidentally locked my keys in the room, and partially because Cody saw a cyclist get hit by a delivery truck which scares me...), to Boots to buy cold medicine because I've been basically miserable for the last 24 hours. I got really wet, and really confused, but somehow ended up back at Keble for lunch with a bag or various cold remedies, none of which I recognize. Then I traipsed back out in the rain to Blackwell's where I got a very welcome cup of hot tea from the Cafe Nero people who are beginning to feel like my best buddies, and attempted to read W.B. Yeats until it was time for Chaucer (which is incidentally just down Broad street at Trinity, if you weren't aware). Arriving at Chaucer I made a complete fool of myself because I was so fuzzy-headed I could barely form sentences, and definitely couldn't manage analytical thought of any sort, although fortunately, Jeremiah did a lot of talking to compensate for my dumbness. And then I dragged my sorry carcass back to the house (which takes SO much longer without a bike), and I felt like the day was sort of summed up by the big truck that drove past and splashed a bunch of muddy puddle water all over me. Now I'm perched on my bed like a sad little bird, contemplating the paper I haven't started writing for Modern Irish tomorrow, and all the May Day festivities that  I'm going to miss out on tonight due to a combination of excess work and disease.

So there's my day. Hey, tomorrow can only get better, right? ;)

In other news... um... I can't think of any other news. My head is too fuzzy.

I'll try this again when I'm more coherent... But until then, here's something that's sustaining me at the moment:

"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her 

that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned,

that she has received from the Lord's hand

double for all her sins.

A voice cries:

'In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;

make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,

and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,

and the rough places a plain.

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

and all flesh shall see it together,

for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.'"

 (Isaiah 40:1-5)

You Play Your Stereo Loud, You've Got Your Headphones On

We were reunited with the sun today. I felt myself smiling like a fool as I rode my bike through town, basking in the afternoon glow, and an aura of fresh knowledge. I haven't even had my first tutorials yet, but I already feel as though a new world of literature is opening in front of me. It has more depth than I ever imagined, and it's so inextricably connected with every discipline and every aspect of life. In preparation for Chaucer, I've been reading first century philosophy, C. S. Lewis, and Italian poets like Boccaccio and Dante, and going to various lectures about Chaucer and Troilus and Criseyde, as well as reading the text itself. I will never be able to read everything I could/should for class, but it's very empowering to get such a variation of perspectives and to go into a piece of literature with so much context. In other words, this system is pretty neat.

For all of you dorks out there, here's an experience you can appreciate with me: yesterday afternoon I walked around listening to my ipod and just looking at everything surrounding me, setting my memories and mental pictures to music (apparently Innocence Mission is the overarching theme for this trip). It was awesome. ;)

And speaking of awesome/me being a dork: I think I'm on the Keble ballroom team now... I'm not really sure. I went to their ballroom lesson last night, just to see what it was like and for a study break, and by the time it was over they were assuring me that they would find me a partner for the upcoming competition (which, humorously enough, might end up being Danielle). Wait... what? They want me to do the Jive (which, by the way, is a really fun, and really FAST sort of swing... although they classify it as latin). I just learned the basic steps to the dance last night, and it was pretty overwhelming, but apparently the deal with the competition is that you have to have at least one unexperienced dancer in each dance (I definitely qualify...). I don't know if I'll actually end up doing it, but I'm gonna go back next week and play it by ear.

Now I have to find my robe and cycle up to Keble for dinner. We had our first formal dinner last night and none of us knew what to do. Plus, the whole robe thing just felt like maybe it was a cruel joke at our expense. However, I can personally attest that, yes, they do actually wear robes to dinner. 

To all the Covenant folk: good luck with finals!! Hang in there!

At the Bottom of Everything

Well, I'm about to turn in my last History essay, and then I only have one more paper to write before seminars are behind me. I think these two classes will look a lot better in hindsight than they look from within... sort of like reading Moby Dick.

And speaking of wonderful literature, Kathleen and I've just returned from meeting with our Modern Irish Lit Tutor. Her name is Dr. Clare Conners (she told us to call her Clare) and she is probably in her early 30s, and she promises to be the most awesome tutor ever!! I cannot wait to sink my teeth into manageable amounts of Joyce, Yeats, Heaney, Beckett, Bowen and Synge. 

Kathleen and I found our way to Queen's College on High street and entered it to be awed by the gorgeous quad: a carefully kept courtyard of white and purple flowers surrounded by towering ancient walls and stained glass windows. I has a much more intimate and official feel to it than Keble. Dr. Conners met us at the Porter's office and led us through a labyrinthine corridor to her office. When she opened the door I think I might have visibly drooled a little bit. She has an adorable little office overlooking the garden, with magnolia blossoms peeking in the open window. The ceiling has exposed, finished beams running across it and every surface in the room is cluttered with an assortment of books, papers, teapots, coffee cups and little trinkets. (it's basically a lot like Ralston's office, except even more cozy and British)

So, suffice to say, that I'm extremely excited and encouraged from this meeting. I think I will actually enjoy this tutorial and be able to embrace the work much more enthusiastically. 

Cheers!

PS -for any Philip Pullman fans out there: I was bad yesterday and I bought a copy of his newest little book (Once Upon a Time in the North), as well as a copy of Northern Lights (The Golden Compass). I just think it's cool looking and it's novel cause it has a different title. I'm bummed because apparently Pullman spoke at a literary festival here the weekend I was in London. I had no idea... *sigh*

Brush the Cobwebs off the Sky

Many days have passed since I last posted... I'm sorry about that. Life has been a blur of frantic study beneath domed ceilings.  

Highlights of the past couple weeks:

• Wrote papers
  
• Read books
• Went to London with Susan (which was wonderful, by the way... except for the sketchy hostel we stayed in...)
• Read more books, so that I could write more papers
• Went to class
• Prepared presentations
• Had a pint or two
• Wrote papers
• Read more books

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's one of those gloomy days when there are just enough dark clouds to make you pensive, and just enough sunlight peeking thru them to fill you with hope. I walked the streets of city center alone today; Just me and my God, with tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips. The true beauty of unflinching grace is so far beyond these streets and these buildings, and yet each stone is permeated with a divine caress, as if every inch of creation has felt His mercy in some capacity. The trees in the garden outside are reaching their bare arms up towards the sky with a sort of understated urgency, as if they long to be made new. And surely, the spring will bring them new life. It occurs to me that these seasons are working themselves out in my very heart. Somehow, the cold, hard earth in me becomes warmer, more fertile, more resilient day by day. Divine love works hourly in my heart to cover bare limbs with flowering fruit. 

I went back to St. Ebbes this morning, accompanied by friends who have become dear to me in these few weeks (Katie, Em, Cody and Jeremiah). As always, it was refreshing to be amidst God's people. And if that wasn't enough, I happened to run in to some other American students I had been hoping to meet (Mallory's cousin Ryan, his girlfriend Janel, and some other friends of theirs), and got to have tea and talk to them a bit after the service, before heading to Blackwell's and burying myself in a book.

Tomorrow is the first day of the last week of seminars. Even now, while I'm here, this whole experience seems more like a dream than reality. I rode my bike especially slow on the way home today, trying to soak in every building, every street, every park and pub and illustrious old wooden door. Monday next (that's how we say it at Oxford...) I will start my tutorials, which promise to be vaguely (or perhaps precisely) akin to drinking from a fire hydrant. Ryan and Janel told me today that 2 weekly tutorials is more than most Oxford students do in a term (or so they think). This is interesting, considering that I'm taking 2, plus cricket. But, come on, I go to Covenant, and this is just Oxford. Mere child's play ;)

More things I'm learning:

• the unparalleled thrill of an unopened envelope and the joy of familiar handwriting on folded paper
• the true genius of Radiohead (I admit, I've been a doubter in the past, but something about Oxford opens one's eyes)
• you will never experience Oxford it you're afraid of getting your feet (and the rest of you) wet
• sometimes a smile impacts you more than any work of literature or art (so don't be stingy)
• pigeons aren't actually very intimidated by bicycles, but that doesn't mean you have to pander to them. Stand your ground! (my bicycle, by the bye, has been affectionately dubbed Marlow, after Conrad's infuriating narrator) 

If you are reading this, chances are that you are in my thoughts, and I have possibly seen you on the streets of Oxford (it's crazy how often I think I see people I know in the faces of strangers). I hope you are well!