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.

Unremarkable day: Ineffective person*

Having finished my first assignment, I granted myself a "break" day--napping, journaling, and hanging out with a particular group I'm determined to integrate myself into. Mostly I just sat around while they started their research for the next case study already, and discouraged, yet still unmotivated, I meandered up to bed.

*original title from recordrecord

The weird thing is, all three of my roommates and I finished at the same time, with almost exact topics, without even knowing...

It was crunch time, so I devoted the entirety of my day to finishing research and constructing arguments and being scholarly. Half way through the day, desirous of a change in environment, my roommates and I set off in search of a coffee shop, only to find out that the few around close extremely early, so we ended up at a pub, with beer and chips, and worked furiously (freely) on our research. Once I hit 1200 words (of the 2250), I walked back home feeling confident that I was halfway there--but alas, I still didn't finish until 5 am.... I need to break this habit quickly.

Despite my non-productivity, I felt rejuvenated and comfortable.

I hardly got any work done on my case study, because all day I was anticipating a skype-date reunion with Dan, Meredith, Chris, and Nate. At 5 pm Oxford time, 6 pm Paris time, 12 pm Canton time, and 11 am Chicago time (and actually 9 am LA time for Steve...who chose to sleep in rather than join us, though he was included in the planning...), we convened on the interwebs to talk and laugh and rejoice. After almost two hours, I left the conversation to walk to Crick and watch The Remains of the Day and eat sweet meats.

so i told creepy stories all evening

I was trying to remember every experience of walking home from the library, burning it into my mind, getting ready to write and share and remember the entirety of these English streets, and while lost in thoughts I was approached and propositioned by a creepy, fifty-ish, toothless, English man. While I'm sure taking a ride on this man's bike up Headington Hill would have been an interesting experience, I declined the offer, and eventually had to dart through the park in order to avoid another awkward interaction with the now waiting for me, staring at me man. Just as I rounded the street home, a group of housemates invited me to a bbq at a real English person's house, and how could I do anything but accept the offer to integrate with real natives?!

procrastination is a trait that i don't think I'll ever be free from

skyped with friends. avoided writing my case study on Queen Boudicca.

not that consoling

We had our first food group meal. Our junior deans made lasagna, and during dinner as we shared random stories, and I was continually interrupted and corrected, I just had to think, "Man, I'm glad I'm not that girl."

I will walk forever.

I was invited to have tea (which turned into beer, because even though we have tea all the time, we don't actually know where to go to be served tea, but pubs are everywhere) with a girl from Crick road after a hard-core study session at the Bodleian. We walked to get Oxford school supplies, a Cornwall Pasty, mail, and then I walked over to her house with her. I spent about a half hour in their kitchen, longing for the close knit community they've already built (aided no doubt by their lessened numbers and more confined living space), before I had to head home before the park closed (which shortens my walk to one of 35ish minutes, instead of the 50 it would take the long way 'round). I'm trying very hard to convince myself of the benefits of living at The Vines...

new habits

Walked to Wycliffe for our ritual viewing, tea, lecture, lunch series, learned about "King Death"--which very much suited our grim expectations. We had our first seminar discussion over Margery Kempe, and then I trudged to the Oxford research library, the Bodleian, for the first time.

slowly

Sam hosted tea over at Crick Road, so I meandered my way over halfway through the day and tried to blend in with the crowds of cliquey students, and mostly managed to be awkward. At least I made a funny joke about the syphilis stigma we've attributed to our history lessons.

London

Saw everything! Buckingham Palace, Parliament, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus... and learned that basically all ancient stories of the Britons end in either murder or syphilis.

conversational deprivation

On my way home from Frewin Court, Simon (our senior tutor) asked me how things were going. Unbeknownst to him, he opened an emotional volcano that erupted at the first prodding, and so he sat and talked with me for two hours. He didn't do much other than listen and ask questions, but I felt so refreshed walking home, that I realized all I've needed is to do that which I love most--TALK to someone, share a story, engage in conversation.

i wish i made friends faster.

Even though we got to do really great things and got to see really awesome historical world attractions with privileges, I felt forlorn. You're supposed to share these moments with the people whom you love and care for...not jaunt off by yourself and expect to have a jolly good time without them.

as uneventful as things can get at Oxford

Our last day of orientation was much the same as it has been, and I really appreciate mid-morning tea to wake me up after viewing hour long segments of British history (which is quite brutal...). In the evening, I tried to integrate myself into community by walking with Carl and Christine over to the house at Crick road, but we mostly just read at the library and then walked home.

these days are bound to happen sooner or later. let's get 'em over with.

Another day of orientation, and another afternoon walking around Oxford.  This time, I had no company, mostly to my own choosing, because I felt ostracized from the groups that have seemed already to have formed, and so I wallowed in my own self-pity as I trekked up Headington Hill.  Spent the evening alone in my room, decorating the room with pictures of home, writing letters home, and wishing that I wasn't so bad at making new friends.

tea is like rocket fuel--apparently that's an idiom here in england

The first day of orientation was packed full of activity, as such events normally are, so after the 40 minute walk to campus, followed by tea, some talking, more tea, and more talking, we had a photo scavenger hunt to find key places around Oxford. We walked around the entire city centre for two hours, followed up with tea at Frewin court, and then Sam showed Christine and I over to the Primark to search for rain gear. After the walk home, some water, and some dinner, I crashed at the early hour of 9 pm.

if I don't lose weight from all this walking, there's something wrong with me.

I walked on my blistered feet 40 minutes to church this morning, at St. Mary the Virgin Anglican church, where there was a phenomenally liberal sermon, given by a woman, about women, and I enjoyed her candor, though not necessarily the rest of the programme's insistence that I would most clearly have enjoyed it the most because I'm in gender studies.  Feminism=bad, still, even here (not in the real Oxford, just this part of it).  We walked to Tesco mart for groceries, and then got lost on the way back, so I had blisters, gangrene hands from grocery bags cutting off circulation, and sweaty church clothes.  Afternoon tea at Crick road was lovely, but once again I dreaded the 40 minute walk back home.  

I have blisters the size of Texas. I hope I don't die this term.

I slept in to recover from the jet lag, and then dallied around until our bbq in mid-afternoon, where we met the people who live over in Crick Road. After drooling a bit over the unattainable but super cute with an accent British man, a group of us went out to The Eagle and Child (where the Inklings would meet) and had a genuine English beer.

I love the first day of meeting people, when everyone feels obligated to say "I'm kidding" after all sarcastic comments.

Travels to The Vines was overwhelming--customs in the airport landed me in the longest line on earth, the terminal trains were confusing and i almost boarded the wrong one, the lift to the central bus station was crammed, and the "queue" for coach tickets was ridiculously long (and I didn't know that I could've just gone up and bought one from the driver instead of waiting in line!).  The coach driver was surprisingly mean, and so I kept my silence for the duration of the ride, until I had to trek my luggage down the lane for an eternity to my house.  I checked in, napped, unpacked, and then had dinner and fellowship with my housemates--playing "pictaphone" (which I have previously known as paper telephone) for hours, laughing, breaking the ice, and trying to not be socially awkward.

In Limbo

I spent the majority of the day at the Detroit airport, having left home, waiting to fly to Heathrow. My life felt suspended, surreal--not just because I stand on the verge of a new adventure, but because life outside of airports doesn't seem real. I felt like everyone else's lives must've stopped as well, they were waiting along with me, and instead they were speeding along into their semesters, lives, without me. Days of travel aren't the best to build up comfort...

these emotions just keep replaying themselves: transitions don't necessarily make for good blog-reading

Some final goodbyes, some last minute film watching, finishing up a bit of film editing, and one last hurrah at ferraro's. Hugs, well wishes, and traveling mercies abounded, along with my own gut-wrenching emotional turmoil that left me unable to fully appreciate neither the place I've come from, nor the place I'm going..

a day

7--wake and begin the daunting task of packing.
9--blog about my distaste of packing.
10--leave for Malone. Car almost overheats.
10:30--thesis meeting, where conversation was sporadic and rich and enough to make me more than a little reluctant about leaving so many of my favorite people/profs/friends.
11:30--run into a ridiculous amount of technical difficulties surrounding my reelate project, including a non-responsive hard-drive, a corrupted hard-drive, an unbalanced computer, a camera that won't ground, a program that won't capture, and audio that sucks.
12:30--actually start capturing video.
1:30--leave for lunch, leaving the camera to record background music of the same genre that plays in Deloris's store.
2--return, and continue editing.
2:30--mildly panic about the excess in length of my reelate film, track Andrew down, and whine about my stuck-ness. Receive a promise of a view and advice. Return to the editing suite.
3:30--run to the mall to pick up socks and dress pants.
4:30--hang out in Connie's room and get an awesome going-away gift.
5:30--show Andrew my reelate film, receive brutal cutting suggestions. Continue editing.
7--Malone Media informational meeting. Follow-up with more reelate discussion, some funny anecdotes, and a surprise turn up from Nate and Meredith.
8:30--show reelate to Nate and Meredith. Get told it's boring. Feel deflated for the remainder of the evening.
10--leave for home, afraid to stay out too late with a dying vehicle.
11--picked up by Meredith to go to Muggswigz.
12--return home to continue the daunting task of packing.

Overall, feel appreciative of some people's modification of normal interactions to indulge these last few days, and resent the refusal of some people to acknowledge the emotions that accompany it.