In the Details

Towards the end of my semester in Oxford, I tread the trails to and from lecture with submission. It was essential, it was doable. The walk had become familiar, and even though it was still long and tedious and, after a while, mundane, it was also a chance for me to think and listen to good music and get some exercise.

Since it had become part of my daily ritual, part of my quotidian flow one might say, it became nonspecial in its transitionality. It was a necessary part of traveling from point A to point B.

So I trudged along and anticipated the hot tea I would make when I got back home. I stared at the sodden trail and kept an ear open for passing bikes. I kept my head down and my feet moving.

Boring, right?

Right. It definitely could be.

But sometimes in the midst of ritual and mundane, I would look up for an instant over the bridge I was crossing and catch a glimpse like this:


Or I'd take a new path, and I'd see this:

Or I'd get to walk to tutorial at just the right time to catch the sunset illuminating the spires in the distance, turning this:


into this:


You know what I realized? This blog was like that, too. Sure, most of it is mundane and tedious, but when you look up and pay attention, you can witness unexpected and startling beauty.

and this, my friends, marks the end...

of my one-year endeavor.

What I anticipate to be a Sunday tradition, I spent all day in front of my computer attempting to finish, or at least make significant headway, on my paper due in just a few days, stressing, agonizing, procrastinating, sweating, envying, and mostly self-doubting. Struck once again by taking quick glances around and noticing the sluggish pace at which I work, I convinced myself of my inevitable failure in this programme, and tried to fight it--though ultimately was unsuccessful--with diligence and perseverance.

And as I recognize the end of this experience, I feel mostly as if I've not fulfilled it adequately. I never actually wrote two sentences a day, but updated in heaps of three or four or sometimes ten, looking back and fighting to remember, not letting myself rise above the sometimes overwhelming current of the quotidian.

Andrew's last blog summed up the experience with much more articulateness than I think I could ever muster, and so I lead you there to read his profound reflections.

Regardless of my resignations, I did update (mostly) everyday. And I did attempt to be as faithful as possible in an interesting way. It did challenge me to look harder and with more significance. It made my days seem so full of potential.

I hope I can look back later and appreciate it more than my current state allows me.

When that day comes, you may anticipate a cheerier farewell post...

[...]

but at least I'm getting exercise, right?

In the middle of the day excitement roused itself in the form of a (normally terrifying) white van with no windows, which was actually the delivery truck for backontrax.co.uk--a traveling bike shop which makes deliveries in the Oxford area. I forked over my 65 GBP for my Margarita (her name), and later that evening took her out for a test run over to Crick for another movie night. Unfortunately, I feel not at all relieved about the bike decision, considering that my ass is still in pain, and the extreme soreness from just attempting (not even close to succeeding) to ride up Headington Hill. Remember that post from a few months ago? Probably would've been the better idea...

the weekend

It never ceases to bring me joy--the hope of the weekend. This particular Friday, though overall overshadowed by the daunting research-laden papers all 60 of us are trudging to complete, still did not lessen the relief on the faces surrounding me as we exited our final lecture of the day. Time is infinite! they seem to say. While we tell each other things like, "I need to finish a big chunk of writing this afternoon," at the moment we're content to sit on fluffy furniture at our tiny oasis in the city centre and talk about about food and traveling and anything!--for longer than we should, because the liminality we find ourselves in is just too good to give up so soon.

swashbuckling adventure

Again, we had the great opportunity of fieldtripping out to some historical and beautiful place, today going to Portchester (a fort) and then over to Portsmouth to the Royal Naval Museum, where we explored the HMS Victoria (from which the English hero Nelson commanded the Battle of Trafalgar), the HMS Warrior (all steel?), and saw the Mary Rose Museum (about King Henry VIII's beloved ship that sank, but was later recovered and explored for its historical treasures). It truly felt as if I was part of a different world, and when we rode back to The Vines, I continued to wonder at the fact that truly! I'm living in England!

making the most

Our tiny, least often gathering food group of awkward outcasts rejected from the huge food group that takes over the kitchen every night finally fought its way in to make an indian curry dish over rice with chopped vegetables, and we circled the table in the midst of chaos surrounding us, and felt perhaps a profound sense of discomfort mixed with appreciation to not be doing it alone any longer. In whom do I invest? Where should I spend my time? How do I fix this weird ache that rises and subsides depending on the situation and the day?

my only complaint thus far

stupid english sinks, originally uploaded by aussie259772.

I would like to draw your attention to the sign on the mirror. It says, "Danger Very Hot Water" behind the hot water tap. You have no idea how angry this makes me. Almost all the sinks I've encountered here have this--the two separate faucets for hot and cold water, which is most inconvenient when I'm trying to comfortably wash my hands. Because on the one hand (literally) is freezing water, and the other is DANGEROUSLY hot water. In America, we have invented the one spigot sink, where you can easily create a warm, but not scalding, medium, advantageous for many reasons. I was prepared to deal with the silly two-spigot awkwardness, until at the bathroom of the English Faculty Library, they had to parade their different-ness right in front of me with this damn sign! Just put the two together! I wanted to shout. Join them, and then this sign would be unneeded, and I wouldn't have to worry about acquiring third degree burns!

This has enraged me to such a degree, that I am posting my disgust on all three of my semi-regular blogs.