sharp glass, feminism and holiday cheer

I brought my glass to the kitchen sink to wash it. It was a new glass - the house has consistently been running out of various dishware, and so Clint and Jackie bought a whole new set. I ran the water and sudsed up the glass. It slipped, I tried to catch it, but it shattered right on the edge of the counter. As I tried to catch it I sliced my finger. Not fun. Jackie took me upstairs for a band-aid and some neosporin. I guess they don't carry it here. I asked if they had seen the commercials about how fast neosporin helps cuts heal. I guessed they hadn't.

I may be a feminist.

I am an easygoing person. I don't often get upset about anything, and am usually far too concerned with everyone else being happy, or at least appearing happy, to be argumentative. Now, I think I might be a feminist because I recently put up a fight when a man got up on a soap box on how women ought to dress and carry themselves. Now, I'm not a man, nor do I try to pretend like I know what struggles men generally face, and so I expect the same from them. I'm not trying to say that women are some sort of suppressed minority, I know we've come a long way in the past 100 years. I just get irritated when men think that they understand the social pressures and obstacles women face, or even pretend they don't exist. They do. I don't doubt that men endure unique difficulties of their own and all I ask is for the same courtesy.

Alright, I had a tutorial on Monday - pretty good, and then I worked until Thursday, when I had another paper due. This one was a theological essay comparing Eusebius and Augustine in terms of their view of the state. My tutor said it was the best paper I had written all semester, and that I had definitely progressed. I was happy, as it was precisely those words I was looking to earn.

I talked in my last essay about having a set schedule to complete the remaining essays. It was supposed to be 4 days per paper. I did the first one in 5, the second on in 5 and then had 2 days, actually little more than 24 hours to read a 325-page novel and write a 2-3000 word essay about whatever it is that I wanted, concerning the novel. Goodness gracious. I got it done, incredibly. I was actually so excited about e-mailing that last tutorial essay that I sent it first without a bibliography and had to send it again. At that moment, I was the most academically free that I had been all semester, or at least since the first few weeks. You see, I had written 3 essays in that first week, and so now I get to reap the benefit of that madness, by having nothing else to write except the dreaded 'long essay' due Dec. 6th. I was ecstatic, needless to say.

After I e-mailed the paper, I took a nice, long nap to help compensate for the previous few nights of little sleep. I was wakened by a knock on the door from Scott, asking if I wanted to go to Ruth's house, my British friend, for a thanksgiving dinner her parents were throwing for some American graduate students. Her parents wanted to meet those of us who are going to be staying in their cabin in Wales next weekend. I was in. The day before, actual thanksgiving, I had done nothing festive, only read Wuthering Heights in its entirety. In any case, 4 of us left to make the walk to Ruth's house. Interestingly enough, after walking very fast as to not be late, Scott had read the facebook message wrong and we were an hour early! It was funny, thought he was pretty embarrassed. We hung out with Ruth, which is always fun. When people started to arrive, we greeted them and chatted about where in the states everyone was from, and what we all think of Oxford. Then, the food. It was amazing. I think that they tried so hard to make a great thanksgiving, that they actually made something better than regular thanksgiving :) It was wonderful. Unfortunately, Margaret and I had a mashed-potato-making appointment back at the Vines - we were all split into groups to help cook for the big SCIO thanksgiving the next day. We had to leave before dessert, but I think that was okay, because I may have just popped.

We walked back and were a little late to make potatoes, but were given the delightful task of assembling the 'puppy chow'. It was good fun. When we finished with that, we helped another group peel some sweet potatoes and then, what else, headed to the pub! Back to the Angel and Greyhound it was, and another great time had by all, and, in fact, by a larger group. Bryce's sister, Kelsey and Trent's 'lady friend' (as he introduced her), Shelby were among us and so, in the spirit of showing them a good time, it WAS a good time. The walk back was silly, lots of involuntary piggy backs and shenanigans of the like. When we got back, unwilling to let my day of glory pass, I popped in High Fidelity and kicked off the weekend with a bang.

Now, my poor alarm clock has nearly disintegrated into complete inoperationability (real word?) and so I woke up by myself around noon the next day on (SCIO) Thanksgiving! It felt like a festive day. I took a shower, did some laundry and found a festive outfit, which actually included a nice neck scarf that Shelby insisted I wear because it went with my fun gold flats. I delightedly accepted and felt oh-so-sophisticated all day. I watched some of the (American) football game outside, played some rummy, and generally enjoyed the house full of happy people. The Crickers were there, and the faculty/staff with their children. It was great. The food was great, the company was great. There were musical performances, and carols around the piano. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

The beautifully British Baigent family became a lovely accompanied string ensemble, for our enjoyment, and the youngest even played us a hoe-down! Simon also played for us on his cool electric cello - a little Gershwin, a little REM - it was lovely. It just felt like a family party - so many people, so much food, so much noise, it was amazing.

During dinner, I had asked Kelsey, a real hair stylist, about what I should do with my hair. We both agreed that I needed bangs, as well as a funchunktastic trim. After dessert, I wet my head in the sink and she went to work. I must say that I was a little unnerved, but I trusted her, as I should have. It came out very fun, I feel quite like an underground European rock-star....excellent. So, what did we do as soon as my eyeliner matched my new hair? The pub, of course! We actually walked all the way to the Eagle and Child (C.S. Lewis/Tolkien pub), aka 'Bird and Baby'. It was a long walk, but worth it, as pub nights always are.

When we got back, people were making Christmas ornaments out of flour/salt/water mixture, baking and painting them. I joined them and then a bunch of us watched Transformers. As we were watching the movie, I looked around at our Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments we had made (good and bad), the lights and greenery on the mantle, and just the general holiday cheer and decided that I didn't want to be anywhere else for Thanksgiving weekend. I realized that the holidays are about being with family, and that we had all been blessed with a new, bigger family, which made the holiday quite cheerful, warm and joyous. I would like to, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, take this opportunity to say that I am grateful for my Oxford family.

This morning, I, partly due to my inoperational alarm clock, partly due to my having gone to sleep past 4, I did not make church. I wanted to go shopping, and then go to the evening service, but then I decided that, after the pleasant day before, that I just wanted to stay in. I was feeling like a home body, brimming with appreciation for my freedom from academics and wonderful housemates. I did some e-correspondence, watched Shakespeare in Love, did some planning for my mom and Suzanne's trip over her in a couple of weeks, made more puppy chow, watched The Family Stone and then commenced writing this blog. I forgot how great that movie was. I recommend it to anyone who loves families, Christmas, laughing and crying.

On the whole, it was a great weekend. I am loving the lack of stress. I am loving the people I live with. I am loving thinking about my trip to Ireland with my mom and sister, and I am just loving my life and thanking God that I am so ridiculously blessed.

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!

we will all be changed someday

Dear friends, it's been too long...

To tell you all that has happened, of interest, of course, since my last post, I must return to last weekend. Actually, the past few weeks have been the most intense, academically, since the very first week of term. I guess there was only a week in between the two, so it's fair to say that yes, Oxford is still hard, but I'm managing better now. I'm learning a lot about myself being here, nearly unbearable pressure will do that to a person. I've learned that I'm far too hard on myself, as, I've found, most people here are. We are clearly somewhat successful, academically anyway, but yet we still feel the need to beat up on ourselves for any trace of failure. It's been good to have a group of people with whom to share these sorts of obstacles.

In any case, let's get back to last weekend...

I have an essay due every Friday by 5pm. This is a bit difficult, usually, because every other week I have a tutorial on Thursday, for which I spend most of the week preparing, leaving little time for the Friday essay. Such was the case last weekend. It was 5pm on Friday and I was barely finished reading the novel on which the 2-3000 word paper was to be written. I was at a crossroads. There was an open-mic being held in my living room for all of the SCIO students at 7, and it was a dress up party. I decided that I had never let school keep me from having a good time, and I wasn't about to start. I stepped away from my desk, plugged in my hot rollers and bid farewell to Elizabeth Gaskell, for the time being, anyway.

I resorted to borrowing a lovely dress, as I didn't bring many 'smart' clothes. when I had assembled a sort of outfit, I began to think that it looked nice, but a bit matronly. At that moment, I spied a pair of perfect glasses on the hall book-shelf. I asked their supposed owner if I could wear them, she said 'yes', and I became a librarian for Halloween. It was fantastic and I was quite excited about it. I made my way downstairs where I met my food group for a quick dinner. This was the first day I decided to stop eating sugar, so all I ate was green-beans, but they were good. At this point, people were arriving from the other house and descending from their bedrooms upstairs and there was quite a hullabaloo. We all took lots of pictures - there were only a few people dressed up in any sort of costume. There was my librarian outfit, of course, then Trent, one of the emcees of the evening, was Dwight Schrute for the night (yes, the same Trent who gave the Dwight speech at the JCR election), and then Alex, who showed up to the party in nothing but a bathrobe - hilariously sketchy.

We all assembled in our living room turned music venue with the help of streamers, signs, desk lamps and balloons and the show began. It was good fun. There were impressive acts and ridiculous acts and everything in between. My oh so talented roommate Jo(hannah) played one of her songs, and then, when the crowd demanded an encore, invited me to sing with her. I accepted, but admittedly didn't contribute much. I hesitate to sing with her, for fear of ruining something. It was fun though. There was an intermission during which we were served crepes of all kinds, which I, due to my sugar fast, was obligated to decline, sadly. Once the show was over, I said to my friend Hilary that if I were less responsible, I would love to go to a pub, being all dolled up and whatnot. This is when we looked at each other knowingly and decided that we were less responsible and decided to assemble a small entourage.

Six of us departed. I changed into regular clothes, but kept on the glasses, as they made me feel like a sort of intellectual hipster. It was a great time and I don't regret it, despite the consequences. We returned back to the Vines probably around 1 or 2am, and then chatted in the kitchen and watched the new Office episode from the previous Thursday. It was probably close to 4am by the time I brought my laptop downstairs and began working. It didn't go well. I fell asleep on my hand for about 20 minuted before I decided to just go to sleep. The next morning I woke up and spent the entire day working on the paper. It was a good paper, but was turned in about 28 hours late. I didn't know what the repercussions would be, but at least I was confident in my work. You see, the week before, my paper for that tutor had been only a couple of hours late, but of poor quality, and I felt the need to redeem myself, even if it meant that the paper would be late. I sent it off and decided to forget about it until my tutorial on Monday morning.

That night, Saturday, Hilary and I, as we had decided the night before, went into Oxford city center to see if we couldn't get into some trouble. Before leaving the house, we started to fill out an e-harmony application under the name 'Karah', but it proved too lengthy to enjoy to completion. Anyway, we walked into town. This was, of course, the night before Guy Fox Day. Guy Fox was a man who, 402 (I think) years ago was plotting to blow up Parliament, but had been caught the night before. Now the British celebrate the anniversary of this every year by setting off fireworks for about three weeks surrounding the actual day. It took me a few days to realize that England wasn't under attack, but even then, I felt like my sanity was under attack by the loud explosions every night for so long. Anyway, it was nice to be able to enjoy the sights of the annoying sounds I had been hearing for so many days. We got to the 'nightlife' section of Oxford and began to wander.

Now, Hilary and I get along great, and one of the reasons this is true is because we're both pretty easy to please. We are also, however, relatively indecisive, and so, just the two of us trying to negotiate a plan of action was a bit of an experience. We went into about three or four different places, and stood in front of many more. We finally decided to just pay a cover and go into a night club, just out of exasperation with our own indecision. We picked the wrong place. It was expensive, tiny, and crammed with the sort of people we had little interest in meeting (meeting people was one of our objectives). We were approached by two males - the joined us in our booth. Slightly annoyed, we tried to cordially express our wish that they leave us, but they apparently weren't that intuitive. When asked her name, Hilary answered 'Meaghan' and so I claimed 'Karah'. From then on, not much we said was the truth. We were Brookes students from Canada and were leaving the next morning, I to Nova Scotia, 'Meaghan' to Montreal, for a break. Interestingly enough, 'Meaghan' was studying quantum math, which we have since decided doesn't actually exist. We eventually, after two trips to the bathroom, managed to get away. We danced some, but the tight crowd was filled with overly-friendly men, and our friends (did I mention they said they were pilots? I guess I can't judge them too much for lying...) were standing on the edge of the dance floor watching us. Thoroughly disappointed with our experience, we forfeited the money we had paid to get in and left.

We had left our coats at Frewin Court, a sort of 'headquarters' for SCIO students, conveniently located down town. We hung out there for a while, not looking forward to the walk home much, but it had to be done. We zipped up our fleeces and started the journey, stopping at a little cart so that Hilary could enjoy a kebab. About 2/3 of the way there, we came upon an overturned shopping cart at the bottom of Headington Hill. Seeing it as a priceless find, and thinking of how much the Vines, in fact, needed a shopping cart, we decided to take it with us. We thought this was a great idea, but the police, in fact did not. A couple of bobbies, or 'the fuzz' pulled over upon seeing us and our new toy and questioned us for about ten minutes. We eventually settled on leaving the cart where we were, overturned so that it wouldn't roll into the street. It seems that youth sometimes roll down the hill in stolen shopping carts, which was what, I believe, we were supposed to have been doing. This seemed like a sure way to die, so the cops' fears were surely unwarranted. We left the cart there, sadly, and continued our journey home.

A few actually Brookes students had observed the whole exchange and, being a bit inebriated, struck up a conversation by teasing us for trying to steal a shopping cart or 'trolly'. We chatted on our walk up the hill, they asked us if American girls really dig the accent, we said 'yes'. They also informed us that the road we live on, Pullins Lane, is actually called 'rape road' by the locals because of its admittedly poor lighting and slightly creepy ambiance. This was comforting. We turned onto 'rape road' and they continued, most likely in search of some American girls on which to try their theory.

Hilary and I wandered the Vines, looking for people who were awake to whom we could tell our stories. We found, in Nick and Alex, a couple of excellent candidates. We told them everything and they were, to our satisfaction, quite entertained. The four of us then, despite the hour, went downstairs and played cards. Hilary was the first to succumb to sleep, then Alex. Nick and I played rummy until about 5:30am, at which point I decided that sleep would be best. I woke up late, I'm sure, did some school work, and then went to tea at Crick, the other student house. I hung out there for a little, then went to church. I have come to be quite fond of taking communion with real wine. There's something about warming sensation that feels so appropriate. Anyway, after church, Scot(land) invited me out to a pub with him, Ruth and Johnny. He knows Ruth from a soup kitchen he works at, and Johnny was a visiting friend of hers. I had work to do, and was a bit shy of the strangers, but I decided it was a good idea. Ruth led the bike caravan to a cozy little pub, to which I had never been. We sat and talked about travel and England and school and life. I was pleased to have finally made a real British friend. In fact, I'm going to her house this Friday for a dinner party and am quite excited. She and Johnny rode a tandem bike, which I found quite delightful.

Ruth lives in Headington, which is where the Vines it, so the four of us, on three bikes, made our way through the cold and foggy Oxford night back home. It was a wonderfully eerie journey and great way to finish an eventful evening.

The next day, Monday, I had my tutorial with the tutor to whom I had submitted my paper quite late. I got in a bit of trouble at the beginning, mostly because it wasn't fair to the other students who submitted their papers on time. I apologized, and then we proceeded. She really liked my paper. I was glad, and felt like I had redeemed myself of the embarrassment last week.

Not much happened the rest of the week - studying, tea, hanging out - until Thursday night. We went salsa dancing! I had been talking about it for a week or so, and had invited several people. Most bailed last minute, but four of us did go, and it was great fun. Jo and I went an hour early for the lesson, which was so great. We kept switching partners the whole time, so we got to meet lots of different people, most of whom were not better than us. After the lesson, Trent and Elaine showed up, and we danced for about another hour. It was a great stress reliever, and I definitely plan on going again this week. It's funny, I never used to like dancing. I think I was too self-conscious. I think it's a good tool to heal oneself of that. It's a lot of fun, but it kind of forces you to not take yourself too seriously.

When we got back to the Vines, it was time to work. I had, once again, a paper due the next day at 5pm, and a tutorial the next day at 3:30. I did end up watching most of Saving Silverman, but then pulled my very first Oxford all-nighter. I was determined to turn my paper in on time, as a sort of apology for last week. It was tough, but I made it. I stayed up until 9am reading, taking notes, and creating an outline. Then, I edited the paper for the tutorial at 3:30, which I had written a couple of days prior. I went to sleep around 9:30am, and slept for an hour or two between then and 12:30. At 12:30, I started writing the paper and, amazingly, finished it in 2 hours! 2300 words in 2 hours is pretty ridiculous, so I think I only have God to thank for that one. I finished it, made my bibliography, edited a bit and sent it off before I took off for my tutorial. Despite my lack of sleep, I was still able to read my 8-page paper on the Arian controversy, only speaking somewhat like a 4 year-old. Then, I participated in the one-on-one conversation about the Council of Nicaea for about an hour surprisingly well.

When that tutorial was done, I felt freedom like I hadn't in weeks. I went to the grocery store, bought some things, then went home and relaxed. I pretty much just hung out all night, enjoying the freedom I knew was only temporary. We watched 'Out Cold', played some music and stayed up way later than I should have. I don't think I went to bed until near 5am, and that's after barely having slept the night before. I have such a hard time going to sleep when things are going on. Needless to say, I slept until noon the next day, and then off and on until about 4:30, when I finally left my cave of a bed. The kitchen was locked up, which happens sometimes when it gets too messy. I ate most of a small jar of peanut butter and three bananas that day. I didn't make it to the library I needed to, so I decided that it would be a weekend for getting extra-academic things done, like laundry, blogging, e-mailing, room-cleaning. Things like that I don't have much time to do during the week.

I wrote a few e-mails, caught myself up on facebook and myspace, and then watched Love Actually (for the second time in a week, no less). The night ended, as many lovely nights have, up in Ben and Nick's room playing music. Jo wrote this wonderful worship song that we recorded with all four of us singing. It was great. Then, for some reason we decided to rewrite the words and rerecord it, only as a terribly morbid song. We had a hard time getting through the chorus, that was supposed to be 'we will all be changed someday' and we had changed to 'we will all decay someday', without laughing, so the recording is pretty priceless.

This morning I woke up and make the 30ish minute bike-ride to church alone. Jo had gone early to help with the kids. It is Remembrance Day and so every wears red poppies pinned to their shirts to remember war veterans, and the church service was colored to that effect. I went to the 11:15 service, which is mostly elderly people - sometimes a nice change. After church, Jo and I explored some of the Oxford a bit that we hadn't seen much of before - old, majestic colleges and whatnot, and then had cream tea at the Queen's Lane. It was nice. We seldom get to be in the city together, as each of us always has something to do - some library to go to or tutorial. After tea we rode our bikes back home, a nice place to be after a chilly, busy Sunday morning.

I continued my relaxing weekend by working on this blog, editing an essay for Abby and lying in the cave bed for a bit. At around 7, Hilary came to collect me. We took the bus to the Magdelen Auditorium for a showing of Pierrot le Fou, a French film directed by Jean Luc Godard. It was like a bizarre dark comedy. I can't say I understood it all, but it seemed to have quite a defeatist attitude, which I didn't particularly appreciate, but it was an experience nonetheless.

After the film, we started our walk home, stopping at one of the several pubs on the way. We sat and chatted, trying to prolong the weekend. The place we stopped is usually full of young people, but when we walked in, there were, beside the bartender, only about three elderly gentlemen standing at the bar. All of them were watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith rather intently. It was initially awkward, then amusing, then awkward again, and then amusing. We watched with them until someone, perhaps out of embarrassment, changed it to football (soccer).

Such ended my weekend, and now I'm refreshed and ready to dive into tutorials again. Bring it on Oxford, bring it on.

Oxford is hard.

I know that this sounds like an elementary statement, but it is a concept that I just recently internalized: Oxford is hard. I've been here for almost two months now, and just a few days ago was the first time that I grasped the weight of this semester. I guess up until now, my optimism and love of being here had been carrying me. As you read about (perhaps) in my last blog, that cloud burst underneath me about a week ago and ever since then I've been gradually coming to grips with the fact that the semester is not going to get any easier.

So, now that I know that Oxford is hard, now what? Well, I get hard with it I suppose and thank God for every bit of encouragement along the way. All week I had been whining about a certain essay I was writing and how I felt like my tutorial was going to be an hour-long explanation answering the question 'why Katie is an idiot.' I was pleasantly surprised and fortunately exposed as a drama queen when, at my tutorial, my tutor praised my essay and my treatment of the topic. I was floored. It is times that like, and people like those I live with, that will keep me going through this glorious, yet taxing experience.

Sonja came to visit me yesterday (Saturday). I'm so glad she did because I had a lot of fun. I met her at the bus station, we perused the French Market, I showed her around the city center and some of the nicer colleges and had some cream tea at the Queens Lane Coffee Shop, which was delightful, very English and convinced me to do it more often. Then we went to my home, stopping first at Tesco to pick up some chocolate-chip cookie ingredients. While we were waiting in the line to pay, I remembered that last time I forgot an ingredient so I ran back to get it. Now, what I forgot the last time was baking soda, but what I picked up was bread yeast, without thinking. We got back to the Vines and began to put the ingredients together. I realized my mistake, but decided to go with it. That was the first irregularity of these 'cookies'. The second, was that, when adding the yeast, I was supposed to dissolve it and salt into two teaspoons of hot. I didn't have salt, so we forewent that, but I also read the recipe wrong and dissolved the yeast into two cups of hot water and added it to the mixing bowl. Once everything was added, I realized my mistake. At this point, I just started adding flour, sugar and other ingredients, trying to salvage the cookie batter soup. It eventually reached normalish texture, so we started baking cookies. Actually, most of the batter went to two giant cookie-cakes because of our lack of adequately-sized baking sheets. After all, we ended up with a very large amount of chocolate chip cookie-tasting cake, because of the yeast. I also made a smaller cake with the very last of the batter and accidentally left it in the oven when I walked Sonja to the bus stop, so by the time I returned, it was nearing frisbee status. Despite the teasing, it tasted very good and the whole of it was eaten by the end of the night, even the frisbee. There you have it, the cookie-cake incident of 2007.

I also decided that I don't do enough in Oxford. It's very easy to just stay home, at the Vines because I love the people I live with, and there are so many of them, but there is also so much interesting stuff to take part in around the city. This is one reason that I accompanied my friend Hilary to a showing of an Ingmar Bergman film: Through a Glass Darkly. It was a nice outing and an intense film. I felt very sophisticated in the theater with so many artsy-types and conversing in the foyer afterwards as wine was served. I was glad I went and Hilary and I decided to try to get out more, despite our comfy home and our demanding academic schedules. I'd really like to meet new people, maybe bring some romance, mystery and adventure into my just-now-becoming rote life. Who knows what will happen, but I'll try to keep you updated.

you can't always get what you want . . .

. . . but if you try, sometimes,
you just might find you get what you need.



This blog is a tale of anxiety and peace,
laughter and tears, bitterness and song.



Sometimes I don't know how absolutely overcome I am until I am free. Such was the case this past weekend. I had been planning, for a couple of weeks, to leave Oxford this past weekend. Six of us had reserved a car, and a hostel in Canterbury, England. As Saturday, the day of our arrival, approached, I became more and more anxious about whether or not it was a good idea. I've been trying to be a good steward of my money, especially because I'm planning a trip to Ireland with my mom in December. Also, believe it or not, Oxford is a lot of work, the type of work that I can't really handle doing for long periods of time. These reasons, both academic and financial, contributed to my acute anxiety on Saturday morning as I packed. I was also wondering how we were going to make six people in a hatch-back work.
The morning came and went, and before I knew it I was in the back of a European Ford Focus we had named "Chia Pet" with three other people. I had also not slept the night before - my insomnia at its finest. The ride was a few hours and we did take one unexpected-wrong-turn-stop at Leeds Castle. The pictures by the information counter looked beautiful, but that was as far as we got, paying admission was not something welcome on this trip.




We finally arrived in Canterbury, cruised the town a bit and then found our hostel. The British are quite fond of the 'roundabout', which made our new England drivers a bit nervous. We did arrive safely. The hostel was one of the better ones I have seen. It was set in a residential area and the whole place was extraordinarily homey. The six of us has our own room. Nick slept on the floor secretly, don't tell the hostel :/. He was going to sleep in the car, but it was a bit too cold for that.

After settling in, we proceeded to wander about town. A couple of the guys went into Canterbury Abby while the rest of us wandered the streets. We met up a little later and wandered together. We enjoyed some buscars and saw some city landmarks: monuments, parks, an old wall/embattlement type thing, the cathedral around dusk - breathtaking. Despite we wonder at all I was seeing, I was still being held a bit captive my my lack of sleep and the academic worry looming over my head. I was told to smile often and felt like I was under the influence of some sort of sedative. It was like I was slowly, but surely, beginning to see how stressed I had actually been.

A day of sightseeing under our belts, we turned our attention to more pressing matters: dinner. We found a grocery store. It was one of the strangest grocery stores I've ever been to. Half of the group decided to check out a Mexican restaurant we had seen in town (bold move in the UK) while the other half of us, myself included, bought ingredients for makeshift pizza and went back to the hostel. We used nhan (sp?) bread, pasta sauce, and grated our own cheddar cheese and it was one of the best meals ever. We also made some grilled cheese, but didn't have any butter, so that didn't go so well. The others, having to get their Mexican food to-go because the shop was closing, returned 'home' before we had eaten, so we all sat around the table together and had a lovely meal.

At this point I was still quite tired, but feeling less grumpy because of my tummy full of nhan pizza. It was the night of the Rugby World-Cup and England was a contender (well, depending on who you talk to) against South Africa. We wanted to find a pub in which to watch the match, but, after a great deal of wandering from packed-pub to packed-pub and some time spent inside one, we decided that catch the end back at the hostel, but not before, somewhat reluctantly, stopping at a McDonald's for fries, McFlurries and hot apple pies.

Truth be told, I slept through the end of the important sporting event on the couch in the 'living room' of the hostel. My bottom bunk beckoned me, and I obeyed along with the rest of my travelling companions. Sleep may have never been so welcome as it was that night.

The next morning I felt much better. It was as if I had slept off my fatigue as well as the thoughts of essays and proposals that had haunted my the day before. We gathered our things, made ourselves presentable and packed up the Chia Pet. We drove through the city to the Cathedral to attend mass. It was amazing to think that such a grandiose and beautiful building had served a working Church body for a millennium. We entered and found our seats. The archbishop wasn't there, unfortunately, but it was a lovely service. I was surprised at how friendly and warm it was. I expected to find a place filled with tourists and pilgrims; strangers, but what I found was a real community of believers. It was a pleasant surprise. There were announcements and corny jokes, I felt right at home. There was even a visiting choir comprised of students from Cambridge University. Were I a real Oxford student, I may have felt some feeling of rivalry, but I was very glad to hear them - it was beautiful. We took communion with our Anglican brothers and sisters, sang with them and reflected on the words of St. Luke with them. When we were leaving, the man who had delivered the sermon was even at the door shaking hands!

There was a bit of confusion after the service, as most of us were separated while exploring the massive structure. The plan had been to get 'cream tea' at a little coffeehouse almost across the street from the cathedral, so most of us went there to await the others. Cream tea is comprised of tea, obviously, a scone, a thick cream like substance, to be eaten on the scone along with jam. It was a very British and delicious treat and very welcome, as I was quite hungry.

After tea, we boarded Chia Pet and bid our dear Canterbury farewell as we had other sites to see before the trip was through. Our next destination was Dover. It wasn't far, fortunately for those of us in the back seat. we reached the beach first. It was nice to sea the ocean (which was actually the channel). We think we could actually see France on the horizon, which was neat. We sat on the stony beach, took some silly pictures and then returned to the car to find a British meter-maid writing us a ticket. We had parked directly underneath a sign reminding us to pay the meter in a nearby parking lot and display the ticket. None of us had noticed this. Chalking it up to 'c'est la vie', be continued. A couple in the group were rather excited about seeing Dover Castle and so were disappointed when we were informed that the castle was the sort of thing that it would take a whole day to see, and was only open for less than two hours more.

We were able to see the castle from the road and it was unbelievable. We drove to a park where we could view the "white cliffs of Dover". We did have to pay some to get in, but it was worth it. We parked, had a nice little lunch of bread and left-over pizza cheese and then walked to the highest point to view the caste and take some fun silhouette pictures against the sun.

Then, it was time to see about these white cliffs. We chose a direction and started walking, still quite fond of looking out into the sea. We found them at last - chalk white cliffs, worthy of their name. We also saw, far below, that there was a beach at the bottom, where the cliffs met the water. We wanted to be on the beach, so we started the, at time treacherous, journey down. Down, down down we went. One of the final legs left us on a platform where we could descend a latter onto the beach, or enter a tunnel that had been carved out of the cliff. We explored the tunnel first. It looked like something that had been created for WWII. There were a couple of little rooms along the tunnel, which ran parallel to the outside. Each room had partially remaining steel-sliding shutters that were terribly rusted, but made for interesting pictures.

We finally exhausted our exploration and climbed down the latter onto the beach. It was much like the beach we had been to, except at the base of white cliffs in the light of the lowering sun. We couldn't stay long, lest the park close and we be stranded. We found a way back that was different than the way we had taken down and only slightly misdirected. Chia Pet never looked so good as we approached her in the orange light. We left Dover, somewhat annoyed at the parking ticket and the castle, but truly satisfied with our trip.

We decided to get some miles behind us before stopping for dinner, which was a good choice because where we did decide to stop treated us well. It was a rest stop, complete with various fast food. We chose Pizza Hut, lured by their family deal. Four personal pizza and four drinks/fries for twelve pounds! Now, after the conversion, this wasn't actually a great deal, but in England, it was a steal. We also discovered a free-refills soft serve option that we also took advantage of. Nick and I finished two bowls of soft serve before our pizzas were ready, the first with raisinettes and fake M&Ms and the second with bubblegum topping, an interesting choice. We soon approached our table victorious and laden with spoil. Our friends were in awe of our ice cream and then we decided that each of us would take a turn filling the little cardboard ice cream dish and then dumping it on whatever make-shift dish we could find, most using the tops of burger-boxes. In this way, all of us had ice cream to complete what could have been the best rest-stop meal in history.

Back in the car, we were eager to reach Oxford, home. Matt, the current driver had a rather comical meltdown after we mistakenly headed towards Uxbridge instead of Oxford, but it was fitting for the group already prone to laughter. We were all free-feeling and relaxed for having been out of the sometimes-domineering grasp of Oxford University for an entire two days.

We finally reached home and were glad to see it. Every time I was asked 'how was it?', I wasn't quite sure my answer did the trip justice, as it was more than just a sightseeing trip, it was a freedom trip.

This freedom was something I never missed so much as today, Monday. Why must Monday's be so often awful? In any case, I had a proposal due this morning at 10, which I hadn't really begun to write until this morning at about 9:30. Last night I could not muster to focus or the ability to face it all again and so I decided to work on it in the morning. Needless to say, I wrote an e-mail to my seminar leader by 10am, but attached to it was not a proposal, but an apology that I knew would be well-accepted. I went to my tutorial at 11:30, already flustered and feeling inadequate, and then, most likely as a result of these already growing feelings, felt unprepared for the tutorial, though I actually was. I'm pretty sure at this point, I was just looking for reasons to be upset. After the tutorial, I was talking to a group of SCIO students about the proposal, a conversation that almost put me over the edge. At this point I could have burst into tears on command, but was restraining myself for the sake of those present. I rode my creaky bike back to the Vines, after discovering I had forgotten my wallet and so lacked the necessary identification to get anything accomplished in the libraries. I almost cried during this trip, but once again restrained myself. Friends at home tried to comfort me, but I did not want to be comforted, I wanted to pout and whine and so I did. All of this misery culminated in my crawling into bed, not to be seen for several hours. It was a greatly needed nap. I woke up in time to eat chili with my food group.

The chili and the good, non-whining conversation gave me just the focus I needed to attack that proposal. I finished it after dinner, and e-mailed it promptly, only about twelve hours late. After I finished, Johanna and I found the newest the Office episode on youtube and watched it right before heading downstairs for our all-girl worship service. As we lifted our voices and I listened to Johanna's beautiful voice leading us, my heart cried out for freedom and received it. I thanked God for the grace I can count on, even when I let this world get to me.

So, that is my story of how I was given a gift of freedom, surrendered it temporarily and now will fight to keep it at all costs.

i eat a lot of oameal

So, I'm back from Barcelona, and have been for a couple of weeks. What is life like now?

Well, as I mentioned in previous blogs, in the first month I was here, the time before my break, I completed one of the four 'classes' I will complete this semester. We went every day for about a month (lectures, documentaries, field trips) and wrote three case studies. That was called 'British Landscapes' and was completed before I left on my break. Now, British Landscapes is the only part of the semester in which I had no choice - we all did it together. Now, the other three 'classes' I was able to choose. Here's the breakdown:

British Landscapes: everyone does it, only first month of program, lectures, documentaries, field trips, case studies, sort of a 'history of England' crash-course.

'Classics' Seminar: I chose this seminar out of a list of five. It goes on throughout the semester. We had a few meetings during the British Landscapes period where we discussed assigned reading, mostly ancient Greek and Roman texts. We also discussed 'long essay' topics. This 'long essay' is something that will be due at the very end of the program, so we're supposed to be working on it throughout the semester. The topic I chose was the influence of Platonic thought and language on the language used by Paul in the New Testament, particularly in reference to the 'flesh and the spirit' and the reception of these ideas. Also, I must attend two hours of lectures each week that fall under this category. I attend one two-hour lecture on Tuesdays entitled "texts and contexts", discussing ancient Greek and Roman literature, mostly plays.

Primary Tutorial, Victorian Literature: I chose this, also from a much longer list. I meet with my tutor every week where we discuss the reading I was assigned and the 6-8 page paper I wrote. The reading assignments can be anywhere from 10 poems to 2 novels. So far, I've read Jane Eyre, Aurora Leigh and various poetry from Robert Browning and Alfred Tennyson. I have to attend one hour of lectures for this tutorial. I attend Gothic Decadence: Sex, Science and Aestheticism on Thursdays.

Secondary Tutorial, Early Church Doctrine: I chose this also, and it works the same way as my primary tutorial, except I only meet with this tutor every other week and, obviously, the assignments are much different. I have read some of the writing of Justin Martyr, imperial letters regarding the first Christians, Gnostic texts and will soon start reading a work by Origen. I have to attend one hour of lectures per week for this tutorial also, and I chose 'Theology before Nicaea'.

I hope that this gives you a better idea of what I'm doing here, as I've had a lot of questions about this particular topic.

(Funny anecdote from before break: There's this group called the JCR, which is sort of like a mini-social affairs type thing, except you have to be elected. I thought it would be fun to plan fun things, so I decided to 'run'. This running was really only the delivering of one speech after our last lecture of British Landscapes. A whole bunch of people ran, but only 6ish could be on the JCR. When it was my turn to speak, I stepped in front of the group and opened with 'my name is Katie and I like to have a good time, all the time'. That was the bulk of my speech, and it didn't get me elected, but it did get a lot of laughs and I haven't been able to live it down since. On a side note, the first speech given was by my good friend Trent who delivered as much as he could of Dwight's (or Mussolini's) speech in 60 seconds. That did get him elected and was priceless, especially since he is a committed Mennonite pacifist.)

I returned from Spain on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday we picked up our tutorial information. By Thursday I had been assigned two novels, a collection of poetry and many other smaller theological pieces to read as well as three essays to be write. This was all to be completely by the next Friday at 5pm. That's right, a whole lot of work in 8 days. You see, my first primary tutorial was on Monday, and my tutor wanted an essay completed for that, and then she wanted my essay for the next Monday e-mailed to her by Friday so she could read it over the weekend. This would have been okay except for the fact that I chose to begin my secondary tutorial that first week also, which was on Thursdays. Needless to say, it was a rough week, but I quickly learned that, though it is tough here, I can do it. I had to do twice as much work in that first week as the average amount and I survived. My essays may not have been my best work, but they showed potential, and that's all I asked of them.

(if that just confused you, welcome to my life)

One little situation that made this first week worse was the fact that I had carried bed mites with me from the hostel in Barcelona. On the second night of my time there, red itchy dots began to appear on my skin. I didn't think much of it, but when I got back, they kept appearing until I had them all over my arms, legs, hands, feet and side. I couldn't sleep. It was terrible. I finally thought to wash my sheets and go to the pharmacy. The lady behind the counter gave me some antihistamine and that, combined with my clean sheets, began the healing process. That was definitely one of the worst things that has happened to me since being here. I though I had the chicken pox or something.

So, what else do I do . . . well, I eat a lot of oatmeal. I usually wake up in the late morning, eat some oatmeal or a banana and then definitely oatmeal for lunch. It's easy and it's a comfort food. I can justify it because I'm part of a glorious food group. There are seven of us and we cook six days a week, each week someone gets the week off. So, every night I get to eat a real dinner, and once a week I get to cook for my food group family. It's a great thing. We sit around the table, complimenting the cook and talking about our days. It forces me to take a break, although I usually don't need help with that. On Sundays there's a separate group - every Sunday someone makes soup. That's really nice too, though not as community oriented as the week-group.

Other than that I read, and write, watch bootlegged the Office episodes, and Arrested Development DVDs that we found here. There is a lot of community in this house. Sure, we work a lot, but we also find plenty of time to hang out, play music and talk about important, or not so important things. I have three roommates, and we are all pretty laid back and like to have a good time (all the time).

One of my roommates is Johannah Swank. She is a musician, and a wonderful one. She sings and plays the guitar and piano and her voice and melodies break my heart. We have another friend Ben, who is a musician also. He is from(ish) Tennessee and reminds me of there, one of my homes. He is a wonderful musician too. The three of us spend much time together, playing music (well, they play music) and talking in places with dim lighting. Besides these two, this house is full of other interesting a lovely characters with whom I share much of my days and conversation.

I sleep on a bottom bunk and have turned it into a cave. I tucked a blanked under the mattress of my upper bunk-mate and voila, my own private fort. Sometimes it's a napping cave, other times it's an office, sometimes it's a movie theater. It can really be anything as my laptop and desk lamp are oh-so portable. In short, this fort has improved my quality of life and I would recommend the construction of one wherever possible.

I have a church - St. Andrews. It's a funny place. The sanctuary has vaulted ceilings and pillars, but the services are anything but stoic. The 9:30 service is a 'family service' and is pretty much a blast. The whole service is geared towards families with small children and once a month they let the kids stay through the whole thing. The worship songs at that service have lots of motions, talk about shopping fairtrade and walking instead of driving. It never fails to make me smile. The 11:00 service is cool too, but is mostly full of old people, so I don't go to that one much. There is a service at 6pm that I think is the best one for me - it's a regular church service, but most of the people who go are undergrads and so I feel more comfortable. I actually just signed up to work with the 11-14 year-olds on Sunday nights, so we'll see how that goes.

I have a plan for after graduation and I'm pretty excited about it. It's called Teach for America. It's a branch of Americorps. It's a two or three year commitment and I would teach in a low income (city or rural) area of my choice while being paid regular teachers salary, getting certified to teach and maybe even earning a Masters Degree in Education. The only problem is that it's a quite competitive program, so I'm not sure I'll be accepted. Hopefully this whole Oxford thing will work in my favor.

I still drink a lot of tea. There's Tuesday tea at Frewin Court (our headquarters), Wednesday tea at Wycliffe (our 'college') after our lecture and then Sunday tea at Crick (the other house that SCIO (Scholarship and Christianity in Oxford) kids live in). And then there's the cup or two I drink besides that - peppermint with honey is my favorite, especially with a piece or two of dark chocolate.

Well, I think that might be all I have to say right now. I still ride my bike everywhere and love it and I've developed strange sleeping habits. Instead of sleeping 12-8 like a normal person, I sleep from 4am - noon. I'm going to try to change that this weekend, as it can't really be healthy.

I'm going to Canterbury (as in archbishop of Canterbury or the Canterbury Tales) tomorrow for the weekend. A few of us are renting a car and spending the night, so that should be a good time. Hopefully when I get back I'll have lots of stories and pictures for you.