Catching my breath.

Welcome to Sixth Week, when you cross your heart and hope to God that you live. I've barely had time to take a breath in the past two weeks, although I did venture into Windsor for a bit on Sunday. I didn't meet the Queen, but I did get a free pass to visit the castle as many times as I desire for a year. Next time, I'll take a weekend bag and pitch a tent in one of the rooms of the castle. I'm sure that that will get the Queen's attention! All I want is for her to grant me permanent dual citizenship, adopt me, and give me a job at a high-class university. That's not too much to ask, I'm sure.

Anyway, silliness aside, these past two weeks have been crazy. First, I got an email from the academic advisor here last week warning us about "Fresher's Flu" or "Fifth-week Flu". And true to my body's need to acquire every sickness on the face of the Earth, I got sick on Wednesday of last week, which made my tutorial on Thursday very difficult. First, I finished the paper in the wee hours of the morning, although I felt that it was decent. There were some things that I would have liked to have tweaked, but I really didn't allow myself enough time. Story of my life. However, when I walked into my tutorial, my tutor took one look at me and sent me home because she didn't want to get sick. Because I had my paper completed, she took it with her and said that she would count our session as having taken place, so I won't have to go into 10th week (I'm already meeting her during Ninth Week, on 15 March, which is after the 10 March term end date). So I'm not sure how well I did on the paper, but I'll find out tomorrow.

On Sunday, like I wrote above, I trekked into Windsor to see the castle, and then a bunch of us sat down for lunch and then went shopping. I bought some arm warmers for when the weather gets warm enough not to have to wear a jacket but is still chilly enough to want some extra protection from the cold. I also bought a huge, obnoxious, teal, floppy hat (wow, that was a lot of adjectives). We're going to have a tea here some day within the next three weeks, and I intend to wear that hat proudly. It was quite a deal - from £10 to less than £2 with sales and a student discount. I felt pretty good about my purchases, as I've been trying to save money for post-term travel.

Speaking of post-term travel, my hotel reservations were finally confirmed for Dublin! I'll be leaving 15 March after my tutorial, and Rachael and I will be staying in Dublin for St. Patrick's Day, coming back to Oxford on the 18th. Tomorrow, I'm booking my 12-day tour of Europa:

22 Mar - London/Amsterdam

23 Mar - Amsterdam/Rhine Valley

24 Mar - Rhine Valley/Munich

25 Mar - Munich/Austrian Tyrol

26 Mar - Austrian Tyrol/Venice

27 Mar - Venice/Rome

28 Mar - Rome

29 Mar - Rome/Florence

30 Mar - Florence/Lucerne

31 Mar - Lucerne/Paris

01 Apr - Paris

02 Apr - Paris/London

Either before or after this trip, I'm trying to work out a way to go to Scotland for a bit, as I really want to see some of the castles there! I know that I'm also going to try to go to Prague and Poland. I've always wanted to do a tour of some of the death/labour/concentration camps in Poland, and this seems like as good an opportunity as I'll ever have to do so. Rachael (my roommate here) said that she and her father might be able to take me, in which case I'd travel with them starting 10 April. Even if they can't take me, I am going to try to find a way to go. If I don't go with her, I'll still meet up with her and her family in London on the 10th and go stay with them in Belgium for a few days, touring Brussels and Paris (which is just a short train ride from her house). After that, I'll meet up with Aaron in London and proceed to take a 10-day tour around England: London, Oxford, Stratford-upon-Avon, Old Trafford, a free day, and then back to London to depart on the 24th of April. I'm still not sure how everything will work out, and frankly, I haven't had time to worry about it.

Which brings me to my final point: I find myself writing this at a little before 10pm on the night before my Shakespeare essay is due, and I haven't started my essay yet. I'm really only writing this blog post so that my parents and relatives don't think that I've died (and because I've gotten really, really good at procrastination - mastered it, if the fact that the essay I had due for yesterday's tutorial was finished less than an hour before it was supposed to be handed in). I finished reading the book for this tutorial today at 3pm, and I've not done anything since then. I tried to do some research, but the internet wouldn't work fast enough to open the PDF files that I was trying to read. So my goal is to write solely using the text for tonight, reach the 2000 word minimum, and then get up and head over to the office at 9am tomorrow morning, giving me about 2 hours or so to find and incorporate research. It's not a perfect plan, but as Eric and I are discussing right now, Oxford teaches you that sometimes you don't have a choice. In a class of one, you can't show up and beg for an extension after class because the paper IS your class. You can't hide yourself in the back of a classroom of 20+ students and pray not to be called upon. And this is the reality check in some ways. Matthias, the grad student in my house, said that Oxford is a bubble, and in some ways, I agree with him. But in other ways, Oxford is certainly not a bubble - you can't hide behind your excuses. Here, you can't give up or give in, or if you do, you'll certainly be ashamed of yourself. You don't finish any essay in less-than-ideal circumstances because it's an option, you finish because it's a necessity, because if you don't, the consequences will be dire. When your grade is based solely on 4 or 8 papers for the term, you don't have an option. And not even sickness or a dead computer or lost notes is a valid excuse for neglecting your work.

I keep hoping that things will get better, that I'll learn from mistakes and move forward, but that's so hard to do. I'm certainly glad that I don't have any plans for this weekend (I was going to try to go into London for the weekend, but after this week, I've scrapped that idea entirely). This weekend is going to consist of passionate studying and paper-writing. I'd like to have a fun weekend, but when it comes right down to it, I spent all of my "fun time" procrastinating since I arrived. I have 21 days, a mere three weeks, to prove to my tutors that I'm not a waste of their time. So yes, I'll probably go visit the Mound ("The Shire") on Saturday for a walk and a short study break, but I plan on getting as much work done as possible, especially because in the final week of term, I'll have two plays to write on for Shakespeare instead of one. As well, the earlier I start, the earlier I can discover that Ebscohost has zero articles about the topic that I'm writing on. I'd like not to have a repeat of today, when I discovered just a few short hours ago that I'm unable to find any research to support my claims. Ah, well, time to start my Shakespeare essay at 10pm. I know that I can do this. Because when it comes right down to it, I'm not allowing myself the choice.

Don't look back. Never look back.

In the past few weeks, I've been tripped up by my past so many times. I guess that I came to England expecting to be someone new, someone who wasn't as awkward, clumsy, and outspoken as I am back home. And I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that just because I stepped off of a plane onto another country's soil does not mean that I'm going to automatically be someone different. It's hard to come to terms with. This past weekend, I basically spent Saturday planning out my schedule for the next two years (because I'll be adding an extra year at Eastern) and bemoaning the fact that I'm not as good as I want to be. I'm not as motivated, driven, and passionate as I thought that I was. Coming here has been so eye-opening in that regard, because my whole life, I've been sitting in classes thinking to myself that I was nothing and would never become anything, and when I got into college, I looked around and realised that I was one of few people who actually wanted to be there. Anyway, I had this identity crisis when I started thinking about how I'm not going to get into the grad schools that I want to apply to because I messed around my first few years of college. It's a sobering thought that everything that I did the past few years that I thought wouldn't matter is now haunting me. Meditation is a harrowing experience.

On Sunday, I went into Wales with Steve and his housemates, which was *awesome*. I think that I might start looking at grad school in Wales because everyone in Cardiff was nice, and the atmosphere was a lot more comfortable than it is in England (Oxford, particularly, but the Welsh have something natural about themselves that attracts me). I got to take some great photos to add to my portfolio, which was cool. I also found out that there's a permanent Doctor Who exhibit there, since that's where the majority of Doctor Who is filmed, and the "Doctor Who Experience" (a huge display of Doctor Who memorabilia) is moving to Cardiff in just a few weeks! I'll be back. That's a promise.

Anyway, some people have asked me what's different in Oxford or the UK in general that I'm going to miss when I get home... so here are a few things that I've loved so far:

• Waking up and seeing a random woman doing Sun Salutations by herself in the middle of the park across the way.
• Watching teenage boys do back flips for no reason in the same park.
• Passing friars on my way to the centre (Blackfriars Hall is right down the street from my house, so I pass them every day - and no one heckles them! It's cool. Also, Blackfriars is where my Shakespeare tutor is from.)
• Realising that I now type with some British spellings.
• Realising that I say "cheers" in a British accent
• Realising that when I read my paper aloud, I read with a British accent.
• Ordering drinks in pubs.
• Going to Cardiff, where the people fawn over an American accent.
• Shopping every day because there's not enough space in the refrigerator to store your food.
• Cooking interesting meals every day (or... when I feel like it).
• Exploring the Mound (aka: the Shire) - which I have yet to do, but Eric promised that we'll go, hopefully next week.
• Seeing "your mum" as a graffiti mark on a wall.
• Hosting "parties" in our house that really just consist of us sitting around going "so when are the people getting here?"
• Seeing Spamalot, where the British accents didn't need to be faked.
• Talking with British people about Burns' Night - and seeing how surprised and impressed they are that an American knows what Burns' Night is! (Thank you, Dr. Bittenbender.)
• Making a "Piña Colada" song to be sung to the tune of "Hakuna Matata".
• Convincing a table of American girls at Coffee Republic that I'm actually English.

And last, but not least:

• Finally finding someone who I can connect with, who is willing to have deep conversations just as often as stupid ones, and who constantly makes me laugh. I've really been missing that in my life, and I wouldn't trade this for the world.
• Holding my own with my professors. Sure, I've had some hard tutorials, where I've walked out and cursed the day that I thought that I could succeed in Oxford, but in the end, I'm pulling B+'s and I know that I can do better. So I'll keep on keeping on, and I'll realise that I'm a freaking genius and I'll try to do better.

I've had some hard days, but I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. Yeah, I have some sad moments, but I feel at home here. I have this sense of belonging, like Oxford was waiting for me. And now that I'm here, it's waiting for me to step up my game. And I only have 27 days within which to do so. Here we go!

Things I could get used to.

First, a quick update. I have now been in England for one month and two days, and I can honestly say that this has been one heck of an adventure. In this short period of time, which has gone by far too fast, I've learned so many things about myself and about culture/history. This past weekend, I travelled to Bath and Stonehenge. Bath was pretty interesting, and I was overwhelmed by the realisation that I was walking on pathways that people walked on thousands of years ago. Wow. Stonehenge was a little bit of a let-down, perhaps because when you look at it in pictures, it looks so spectacular and powerful. In reality, it's a man-made formation of rocks in the middle of a hill that just happen to still be standing after around 4000 years. Interesting, but not as overwhelming as I thought it would be. It is said that Stonehenge was built around 2700 BC, and the earliest known pyramid was built around 3000 BC (by the Brazilians, although there is some speculation that there may have been some pyramids in Bosnia dating back perhaps even 20000 years before that). With that knowledge, Stonehenge was a bit of a let-down, but it's something that I'm so glad that I got to see (plus, it makes for some nice pictures). Anyway, it started to snow while we were in Bath, and that's when I discovered that my warm, fuzzy boots are in no way, shape, or form actual snow boots. I wiped out five times, and at one point, the guys that I was with just took turns letting me hold on to them so I didn't slip into the middle of the street and get hit by a car. It's a little bit funny now, and they certainly had a good laugh about it, but I felt like a complete fool. The blocks that make up sidewalks here get extremely slippery when wet, so I need to be more careful. Also, the Brits don't get too much snow, so they hadn't salted any of the sidewalks. We're supposed to get more snow on Friday, so I'm trying to make sure that I don't have to go out that day (except for a Japanese tea that I'm going to with Gabby).

I just need to write that I adore being here, and I wish that I could stay here forever (a reoccurring desire over the past month). With the exception of one or two late night ponderings, I really haven't missed the States at all. It was hard at first, when I didn't know anyone here, I was in a room by myself, and classes and orientation hadn't started yet. But now, 37 St. Giles is home, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

I think that home is where you feel comfortable, and home can move. People say that "home is where the heart is", but I think that it's more than that. I was reading a BBC news article the other day about the importance of homes to humans, and several parts were just so interesting to me: "We depend on our surroundings obliquely to embody the moods and ideas we respect and then to remind us of them. We look to our buildings to hold us, like a kind of psychological mould, to a helpful vision of ourselves. We arrange around us material forms which communicate to us what we need - but are at constant risk of forgetting we need - within." The author concludes the article with the solid statement, "We respect a style which can move us away from what we fear and towards what we crave: a style which carries the correct dosage of our missing virtues."

This article really grabbed my attention because in so many ways, Oxford embodies what I feel like I'm missing in my life back in the States. In general, Oxford is a place of studying and learning, of knowledge and passion, of quiet and serenity. Although this is not true in some cases (enter: pubs and clubs), and although the city centre of Oxford is really just a shopping district, there is indeed a sense of peace here. Everyone who knows me will most likely agree that I can be crazy, wild, unfocused, "out there", and just downright weird. But oftentimes, I act that way because when I am quiet and focused, I'm labeled as "moody". While I enjoy being at a university where I can be in constant connection with friends, I also yearn for a quiet, reflective atmosphere within which I can more accurately observe and meditate upon what I am learning. Oxford offers that.

For a large portion of my life, I enjoyed noise. I loved blaring my music and talking with people and attending loud social events. But now, I'm finding that I miss silence. I miss having a sense of peace in my life. I've squandered time listening to music when what I really want to do is listen to the natural noises of the outside world. If it wasn't so cold outside right now, I would be sitting in the courtyard across the way with my eyes closed, just listening to the world around me. I want to sit in the middle of an open field in the middle of nowhere and just observe my surroundings. Too often, I just see the inside of my dorm room or the few buildings to which I walk. Here, I am surrounded by architecture and great works of art.

My home is here because I've fallen in love with what I've been missing in my life. And although it's still elusive, Oxford also offers students the opportunity to learn self-discipline. Even on a foggy day like today, I can still look around me and feel awe that I am here, I am studying and learning, and I am actually conquering my weaknesses. I honestly wish that everyone could have an opportunity like this because it is truly life-changing. I don't think that I'll ever be able to look at myself the same way again, as I set out to do something new with my life and here I am. What a breath-taking realisation.

I'm off to study for my Shakespeare tutorial, but I think that I just want to reflect on this quote today: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." I aim to have so many of those moments while I'm here.

Hope everyone back in the States is doing well and that all of my lovely Eastern friends are hanging in there. I love you all so much, and I enjoy hearing about all of the wonderful things that you have been doing. Keep up the good work! Cheers:)

Treading water only works for so long.

Oxford is not like Eastern. Of course, that seems like such a silly and obvious thing to say, and even as I type this, I'm reminded of every possible aspect that sets Oxford apart from most universities in the world. I'm 17 days and 16 hours into term here, and I'm already wondering how I'm going to survive. One thing about Oxford that makes it supremely different from Eastern is that at Oxford, students are expected to jump right in and begin their academic work right away. Like swimming, you meet some resistance from yourself when you first begin -- you're so far away from home, but that doesn't matter because you can just hop on Facebook and talk with people; you're still in "vacation mode" and acclimated to sitting around and watching movies all day because there's nothing else better to do, and that often translates into going exploring or shopping; there are so many new things to do and people to see; and, you're just tired from having days full of doing whatever you want. After a while, you begin to realise that you're going to have essays due at your first tutorial (which is tomorrow and you haven't even begun your reading material), and you have no idea what to expect from your tutors, as they gave you no guidelines. Sure, there may be a syllabus, but it generally states which books you may be reading, and it may give a few extra suggested readings to do. My primary tutor even gave me a list of essay questions that I can choose from over the course of the semester. Other than that, you're tasked with writing a certain amount of words or pages with little guidance but your own research capabilities. Luckily for me, I'm very good at research. I can find almost anything I put my mind to finding. But the point is, you're on your own. There are no daily class sessions around which to schedule yourself, you don't check in with your professor every day (you're lucky to get an email response back from them before your next tutorial session!), and you certainly aren't required to work every day. It seems like a life of freedom...

... until you find yourself reading a Shakespeare play at 2 in the morning for a paper that's due at noon. Cramming is certainly something that I've taken for granted at Eastern because cramming there is like eating ice cream, and cramming here is like eating nails. At Eastern, you can, if you really wanted to, start reading a book the night before you have to discuss it in class. In fact, with 20-200 other students in the class, you could read one chapter from the book and be able to contribute. Here, in a class of one, if you don't have a mastery of the text, you might as well just cancel your tutorial. You're wasting your professor's time, and ultimately, you're wasting your own - instead of completing the work and then having fun, you're really just having fun, wasting time, and then not succeeding anyway. You might as well just go home. And when you show up to a tutorial and hand in a crappy essay that a four-year-old could have written (if four-year-olds knew words like "carnal" and "enchantment"), if you don't feel ashamed, you shouldn't be at Oxford (or you should at least reconsider your motivations).

So I'm slowly realising that I need to make myself a study schedule and actually stick to it. In my pact with Gabby, I wrote that I would allow myself to have some fun after my work is done. For example, there's a trip to Bath & Stonehenge on Saturday that I really want to go on, but if I don't complete my work, I'll not only be behind in one tutorial but I'll have missed an entire study day to get caught up. I was talking with Carl (another guy in my program), and he and I agreed that Oxford really forces you to either accept the fact that you need discipline or give up. Because if you can't accept the fact that you need discipline in your life, there's no way to succeed.

You can only get by on treading water and finishing essays at the last minute for so long. After a while, you realise that you're so burnt out from doing nothing that you shouldn't even pretend that you don't need help. And you'll drown in the work. There's no way past that.