mary barton and augustine

It's funny how I often fret about not having enough time to accomplish things, and yet I end up wasting half of the time I do have and still getting whatever it is I was fretting about done. That is the story of the past week.

On Monday, I went to my tutorial and it went well. That usually indicates that I will not slip into a deep depression the following week, so I was pleased. I decided that I was going to be incredibly disciplined for the remainder of the semester, so that my final papers will clearly show that I have improved. You see, it is on our improvement that we are given grades. So, after my tutorial, I went straight to the English Faculty Library and got a copy of Mary Barton, the next Victorian novel on my agenda. The week before I had read The Picture of Dorian Gray. It thoroughly creeped me out, and so I was happy to return to the emotive soap boxes of non-Gothic Victorian literature. Mary Barton did the trick - the age old story of the poverty-stricken, passionate, but devoutly Christian girl led into sin by illusions of love and then left to be severely judged and rejected by a hypocritical society. In any case, I spent that night reading, annotating and researching Mrs. Warren's Profession, a play that I also needed to read and which I had to borrow due to limited copies in this great city. The next two days were spent reading the novel. I was on track - all that was left was to write the essay on Thursday, which I was more than capable of doing.

Side note: Wednesday I needed to go to a lecture at my college. It was a SCIO lecture, so I would have felt uncomfortable missing it, though I have no trouble skipping every other lecture I was supposed to have attended over the past three weeks, but that's another story. Anyway, after the lecture, my friend Bryce and I found a lovely little coffee shop, I got a latte and we both studied until it was time for mass at St. Mary Mags. Our good friend Adam was reading one of the scripture passages, and so we were going to support him, and because Mary Mags is pretty cool. It is a high Anglican church, and neither Bryce and are that well versed in the liturgy, but usually, in those sorts of situations, there's a 'blend in and follow the crowd' mentality. There was a bit of a problem with this because, besides the priest, the assistant, Adam and us two, there was only one other person in the room. It was comical. We stumbled over a few things, spoke when we weren't supposed to, and I, personally fumbled through a few other things, but overall it was an enriching experience. I've decided that I have no denomination. I really don't know what to claim. I think there is great value in every denomination, and none of them seem to me to be the best. This may change, but I don't think it necessarily has to. I will be a part of any church that I believe is doing the work of the kingdom, and in which I can become a part of that work, undistracted. That is all that really matters to me in a church. What the baptismal looks like, or what is said at communion, not so much, though I must say that I will miss real wine at church.

Okay, back to Thursday. I woke up, constructed an outline, and then avoided my paper for about 12 hours. It was ridiculous. I've never been so unable to do work in my life. It wasn't even a difficult paper. I knew what I was going to say, I had all of my quotes picked out. I just couldn't do it. The complete lack of focus, accompanying guilt, and all-day confinement to the house eventually drove me mad. I also had no food, and my dinner consisted of honey a raw oatmeal. Thursday was supposed to be salsa night, too, but not many people wanted to brave to cold, and I was in not mood to convince them. I was one grumpy, hungry, guilty, frustrated girl.

Bryce said he was walking into Headington to go to Somerfield, a grocery store. I knew that I needed to go with him. One of his destinations was Blockbuster - he and Johannah were going to watch a movie. We began to walk, and I instantly felt better. It was freezing, but the fresh air and distracting environment were just what I needed and the grumpiness was left at the Vines.

We arrived at the store, I picked up some apples and brie. Then we went to Blockbuster and rented Blades of Glory. At this point, my paper had completely fallen from my mind and I was preparing for a night of thoughtless amusement. As I tried to offer Bryce some money for the rental, he suggested we stop at the petrol station and pick up some movie snacks. I bought some very dark chocolate, to compliment my relatively sugar-free lifestyle, and we also bought a chocolate 'yule log'. It was kind of like a giant swiss cake roll with chocolate cream. It looked Christmasy, and Johannah has been in the Christmas spirit for weeks, so we thought she'd enjoy it. We walked back home, and presented the yule log, along with a stirring rendition of Good King Wenseslas(sp?). The fact that I knew only the first line made the comical situation even more ridiculous, but Johannah was delighted and so we were pleased.

We sat around the kitchen for a while, chatting. There were people in the living room watching King Kong, so we weren't sure where out Blades of Glory party was going to happen. Word had spread and there were about 10 people interested in the viewing. I decided that that night, in the interest in my own well-being, I was taking a break from my sugar fast and enjoying some of the yule log. It was yuleriffic, and I don't regret it one bit.

I made tea, and emptied my very mini milk jug. I ate one of the apples, and put the core, and the plastic wrap from the yule log into the empty little jug. For the next hour or so, about six of us found unbridled amusement in trying to keep the jug airborne. We called it 'table jug' and were quite pleased with ourselves. Adam became 'rooks' because he joined the game last, and we dubbed one area the 'corner of death' because it always seemed to foil or efforts. We even, upon recommendation of Nick, tried a variation called 'death jug'. This game involved anyone clearly guilty for dropping the jug curling up on top of the table. In about 10 minutes, 5 of us were on the table being pelted with the jug. Ben, a very new-comer, was the champion of death jug, but we all, especially those of us on the table, favored the original table jug.

Eventually, constructed our own little living room-type situation in the foyer, and started the movie. It was glorious. When it was over, I went to my desk, doubled my work count from 300 to 600 words and went to bed, fully satisfied with a night full of memories, rather than paper-writing.

Friday, there was no escaping it - it needed to happen. I wrote the paper, and a pretty good one too, I think, though I wont find out til tomorrow morning. After the paper was completed, I took a shower and got ready. Ruth, my one and only British friend, picked my up at 5:30 on her tandem bike and brought me to her house. I chopped vegetables and chatted with her and her sister for a few hours until people began to arrive for the dinner party. I spent the entire evening with only British people and it was brilliant. Dinner was great - I was grateful for food beside raw vegetables, laughing cow cheese and oatmeal with raisins. There were about 15 people there, and none of them knew everyone, so it was quite easy to make friends. It was one of the best evenings I've had here, mostly because of how different it was from the rest of my life here - so British! One of my new friends drove me home, and I was happy to relive my evening for them.

Saturday morning I woke up in just enough time to throw on some clothes and ride my bike to Frewin Court. A group of us met and then walked over to the Gate House. It is a soup kitchen. I am sad that I never became more involved there, because I think soup kitchens are a ministry that I especially enjoy. I made sandwiches for a couple of hours and was glad to do it. Although, it was quite freezing, and I was a bit afraid that I was going to mistake my numb fingers for ham and put them in one of the sandwiched. That would have been unfortunate. We had a lot of fun, buttering bread (it's a sandwich spread here!) and adding various fillings, thinking about the people who were going to eat them. After we were done with our work, we all had tea and talked to the man in charge. He told us about some interesting projects that have had to help the homeless of Oxford. There is an organization that puts together a periodical publication called the 'Big Issue'. I've seen homeless people selling these all over Oxford, but I never knew what was going on. Apparently this organization prints the sort of edgy, liberal news paper and sells it to the homeless people, so that they might sell them to the public for a profit. In essence, the salespeople are regular newsies! That was exciting. The also have published a book comprised of creative writing projects of homeless people, produced right there at the Gate House, and sold them to raise money. It was all very interesting.

I ran from the Gate House to make it to the Theology Faculty Library before they closed, picked up more ridiculous books, including Augustine's 'City of God', which is far too long, if you ask me. I then went to the Radcliffe Camera, dodged the tourists, picked up 'Church History' by Eusebius, and began reading. I think I actually fell asleep at one point, as Eusebius isn't exactly en enthralling author, nor is church history, often times, an enthralling subject. I stayed for as long as I could make myself work, and then found freedom once again on my bike.

I went to this little store called Benny's to buy a phone card and then forgot the phone card on the counter. I didn't realize this until later in the day and am still quite irritated about it. I also went to the mall to go grocery shopping. An interesting idea, I know, but it was my best option at the time. As soon as I entered the building, a smile came to my face. There were hundred of strings of white lights hanging from the ceiling, and a giant Christmas tree. Christmas is commercialized, I get it, but even contrived, and ill-motivated Christmas spirit is Christmas spirit, right? The place was mobbed, per usual on Saturday, but I used my ipod to create a soundtrack for the experience, so it way okay. I gathered what I needed, stood in line for about a half hour and then chatted with my friendly neighborhood cashier. It's funny how the locals know instantly what I'm about. I talked to him for about 30 seconds and he had already asked me what I was studying and for how long was I there. I felt transparent, but was glad to surrender any attempt to seem like a local, although I did throw in one 'quid' to try and fit in. Quid is the British slang for a pound. Buck is to Dollar as Quid is to Pound. I doubt you'll see that on the GRE, but moving on...

I put my food in my basket and went home, to a warm, bustling house, as usual. I unpacked everything, rested for a bit, and then joined the whole wheat crust pizza making party my food group was having. We made little pizzas, they ate ice cream, and then a bunch of us settled down to watch the Emperor's New Groove - excellent. When the movie was over, seven of us headed back into the cold for an official pub night, of which we are all so fond. The Angel and Greyhound was the destination, as they boasted fireplaces and we were quite chilled. We stayed there for several hours, talking, drinking, laughing. It was probably the best pub night so far. A good pub and good friends is an unbeatable combination. We played 'two truths and a lie', which, in my opinion, is one of the greatest get-to-know-you games ever and accordingly made for some great fun.

When we got back, we weren't ready yet to forfeit our beautiful Saturday, so we popped in a movie and I made some tea. It was finally time for bed, as I had every intention of going to church in the morning. Church didn't so much happen. I shut my alarm off with the intention of getting up, but it didn't happen and before I knew it, the clock said noon. I got up and started working. I worked a lot today, sort of. I worked, and ate, and talked. Ben, Johannah and I failed miserably at writing a Christmas song and decided that all of us were a bit mellow, indifferent, grumpy, depending on the harshness of language one wishes to use. We ended the night on Ben's bed watching Flight of the Conchord videos on youtube. This effectively lifted everyone's spirits.

I didn't get enough done today, and I'm slowly but surely falling behind in the fool-proof schedule I set for myself, but I'm creating great memories at the same time, so I'm not stressing. What I am stressing about is leaving this place, and these people. It's sad because when this ends, I will not see most, if not any of these people again. It will be the end of something I will never experience again and it has already begun to break my heart.

*makeshift footnote* all of the beautiful pictures of Oxford featured in this blog were taken by none other than my talented friend 'Thew Bert' (Matt). His work has been featured here before, I thought I would give him credit this time, as it is hit work alone that I have stolen. Thanks Matt!