Time for Reflection

I haven't written as frequently as I presumed I would, but it doesn't really seem as though there is much to say. I know some people would be absolutely fascinated by the everyday things going on (ahem, Mom), but it really is just an endless cycle of read, read, check Facebook, read, write, write, drink tea, walk, tutorial, walk, read, read, etc. Not very interesting. When I get to my travels the gaps between posts will be even farther, as I will be gone for long stretches of time without access to a computer.

Travel updates! I will be going to Scotland with two of my friends here for four days, coming back to Oxford to meet up with a friend who is studying in Spain, going to Ireland for four days with her, flying from Ireland to Paris, spending three days in Paris with those same two friends, flying to Nice, spending four days there, and finally flying back to London, where I will proceed to sleep for extended periods of time, wander around Oxford, visit the museums I've been meaning to visit for the past two months, etc. Then, I'll ship off to Seville around Easter time with the friend who accompanied me to Ireland, and then crash with her for a week or so in Madrid. Then, back to Oxford, packing, and back to the States.

Abbreviated trips to several places, so I won't get to see as much of them as I of course would like to. It was a difficult choice between going as many places as possible and really delving in to one or two places. Perhaps I should have done the latter (plane tickets are already purchased and plans already made), but I'm sure I will be able to soak up a lot in those few days, and have a whirlwind month of travel. I really can't wait.

I'll write another blog about academic reflections later, once I've concluded my tutorials. I do want to say a few things now, though. I have never been this challenged academically. It's a good feeling to struggle. Foreign, but good. I'm used to working hard for my grades, but that hard work comes easily, if that makes any sense. I breeze through the hard work and am none the worse for wear. Here, I struggle struggle struggle and continue to struggle. It's a different feeling - not having my professor think I've hung the moon. I know that sounds really arrogant, but I don't mean it that way. I'm used to excelling in school, with effort but feeling capable of handling that effort. It's what I'm good at. I'm doing well - approximating A- or B+, from what I understand of the Oxford grading system. And it's not like the work is that difficult (except for the poetry. Oh God, the poetry). I read simple texts, read criticisms, and write an essay about it. It's not that hard, when I think about it. Really it isn't. So I don't really understand why I'm struggling so much. I think I'm overwhelmed by the workload, since there is a lot of work crammed into a little bit of time. That's just how it is. But ... I don't know. It's hard. And I like that it's hard. I just have to get used to not being on top - it's a big world out there.

Going with that thread, this experience has been extremely humbling. The work I've done - both academically and otherwise - is trivial when compared with what these people are doing. If I want to make something of myself in this world, I'm going to have to work extremely hard, harder than I have been. Which is saying something, because, as my friends will tell you, all I do is work. I don't know if I can do it. Granted, who am I to say that I even deserve to make a name for myself in the world? Sometimes I want to be remembered, to have people recognize my name, as I'm sure most people do. But, does that really matter? If I do good work, does it matter if I am "famous"? My priority should not be to become famous. It should be to do good things for people, for humanity, for the world. Which it is. It doesn't matter, really, if my name is remembered. What matters is what I accomplish, and how that affects people. And being here, being another face in the crowd, has helped me realize that.

I have to say, thus far I haven't made an impact on this university or this community, as I know I was expected to. It will be no different when I leave than when I arrived. But, that's acceptable. Frustrating, a little, but acceptable. I came here assuming that it would be a break from my hectic life, that I would focus on the academics, that this would be a time for learning and for traveling. Which it has been and will be. So I've accomplished what I set out to do. And my time here isn't even over.

Anyway, I have to resume my reading and essay writing. I've read Christina Rosetti's "Goblin Market" and Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese," and I'll be writing an essay about how these various poems depict female desire. Fascinating subject, but it'll definitely make for an awkward tutorial. Hah. I can't wait.

A Good Day.

Yesterday was one of those really good days. A change from the overwhelmingly stressful days that have been the norm over the past several weeks.

I got about 1.5 hours of sleep Sunday night, and yet woke up Monday (after going to bed at 8:00am having finished my paper and waking up at 9:00am) refreshed. I went to my tutorial, had an excellent conversation about The Moonstone, and was informed that the paper I had just handed in (the result of a rather fuzzy all-nighter) was perhaps the best paper I've written all semester. Win. Had a delicious sandwich for lunch as I walked to the library, enjoyed the snow falling, "led" a fantastic music class at the homeless/underprivileged resource center where I learned to work turntables, made my way home. Took a nap, watched an episode of the OC, had a ridiculously simple but delicious dinner, had a great time at choir rehearsal (where, regardless of my hoarse voice - the result of coughing all weekend - I was still able to sing quite well), and finished the night off with ice cream, travel planning, and Skype dates with my parents.

Today has been completely unproductive, partially because I'm making up for the 10 hours of sleep I've gotten in the last 72, and partially because my next tutorial revolves around Derek Walcott's poetry and my tutor hasn't sent me an essay topic or outside sources yet. I've rather enjoyed it, though this cold needs to go away now.

I think breaking points (like the one experienced a few days ago) are a good thing. I always have. Once you reach that breaking point, things can only improve. You are then able to appreciate the little things that brighten your day and overcome those obstacles with newfound strength. *Sigh*

It's looking up. Finally.

Spring Break? Hah.

This is the point in the semester during which students in the United States go off on spring break adventures after two months of hard work.

This is the point in the semester during which students at Oxford crack under the pressure of five weeks of even harder work, with the only break (that is to say, the end) being three long weeks away.

This. Is. Exhausting. To be honest, I haven't slept more than seven hours in a night in the entire time I've been here (except when I had the flu a few weeks ago). It averages out, I'd say, to about 4 hours per night. Granted, this is largely due to my own procrastination, but still. It's exhausting.

And here I am, procrastinating again, while 1500 more words of my essay are clamoring to be written, due in about 9 hours or so. I'm not sure how much more a person can take of this.

I have to say, I am genuinely amazed at the students here - that they can handle this workload and not ... cave. Perhaps this is why they drink so much and so often: they are so exhausted and overwhelmed by the workload that they cram in "fun" whenever and wherever possible. I wonder what the retention rate is. Likely very high, something else that amazes me. I wonder if that is due to the students themselves, or due to the structures in place. Something to think about.

Several happier notes:

My stepsister came to visit me! It was a lovely (though extremely brief) visit, the gaiety of which I am clinging to for dear life at this moment in time. We wandered around "downtown" Oxford, made dinner, watched a movie, got up early, meandered through the Covered Market (a place you MUST visit if you are ever in Oxford, whoever you are), went through the Oxford Castle, grabbed a baguette on the way to my tutorial, visited numerous libraries in the pursuit of books which currently are sprawled around my room, came back to the flat, made dinner, and went out to my favorite pub for the evening with several of my friends. She left bright and early the next morning to visit her friends in Exeter, where she spent a year in undergraduate education when she was around my age, ten years or so ago. I miss her already.

We visited Cambridge (excuse me, "the other place") yesterday. THAT was beautiful (pictures on Facebook). We took a walking tour of the University, ate lunch at the Eagle (where Watson and Crick realized the secret to DNA), walked around to the various colleges, went to a museum, went up St. Mary's tower to take some gorgeous photographs of the town, and climbed on a bus to go back home. I shall have to post pictures on here at some point, I suppose.

Last weekend (last Saturday, to be more specific) was perhaps one of my favorite days thus far in the semester. The day was extremely productive academically, followed by a fabulous dinner party (homemade macaroni and cheese with green beans sauteed in garlic, followed by brownies topped with ice cream and smothered in melted chocolate), and a themed party (favorite [or objection to the least favorite] stereotype), at one of our friends' flats. Several people from Magdalen attended. I was happy about that, since I got to meet LOTS of people on "my turf," and with the assurance that other people that I knew liked me were loitering about should a conversation become awkward. Very lovely evening. Very lovely, indeed.

Now, off to write that paper. Wish me luck. I pray I won't fall asleep while writing it. That is highly possible.

Topic: "Discuss the interface between detection and imperialism in The Moonstone." 2000 words. Go.

Just a Thought

How I'm going to miss having 100+ libraries at my disposal, with any book I could ever want to read available for perusal.

*sigh*

The Tutorial

Let me give you an overview of my life in the tutorial system:

I read a book, about 300-400 pages. I read pages and pages of secondary criticism and historical context. I spend hours writing a paper on a topic that at first was decided by myself but then assigned by my tutor. This paper is about 2000-3000 words long - 8-10 pages. In the space of three days. I then meet with my tutor, discuss the essay and the text, sit and stare blankly at him when he asks me to criticize the work, receive my next essay assignment, and begin again.

I have never done this much work for school. I read well over 1500 pages per week, and write two papers, longer than most I've written previously, every week. It's quite overwhelming.

I'm learning a lot, when I'm not bashing my head up against a wall (figuratively, of course) in frustration. I'm reading fabulously classic books that I've been meaning to read for years. I love the books. I don't love what I'm doing with them.

And I've realized why this is proving so difficult for me. In England, and especially within the Oxford system, by the time you get to be my age and year, a student has studied one subject for two to three years, exclusively. This is due to what are called "A levels," which are (very) roughly equivalent to two years at community college in the States. Then she gets here, and is further immersed in her chosen subject.

I, on the other hand, have taken one introductory level literature class in college.

I'm so in over my head.

Perhaps coming here was premature. Perhaps I should have waited until I've had more experience with analyzing and critiquing literature before putting myself into such an advanced, intense atmosphere.

When I get back, at least, I'll be far ahead of everyone else and have a better grasp of literature. I hope. I think.

In the meantime, I can only hope that these classes, though a great learning experience, don't bring down my GPA too much.

I could definitely see myself enjoying this system thoroughly, if I was more prepared, smarter, had taken more literature classes. As it stands, I am constantly frustrated and overwhelmed. Keeping my head above water. Just barely, but I'll make it. Hopefully somewhat unscathed. We'll see.

Travels, continued.

How does one get to know a place?

There is a clear distinction between visiting a country and getting to know that country. One is superficial; the other, quite difficult. A person can travel to a country and not know that country at all upon leaving it. Take, for example, a couple traveling to Jamaica on their honeymoon. They stay in a resort, swim in the waters, visit the tourist sites, interact with some native Jamaicans in a flea market, eat Jerk chicken at a 4-star restaurant, and go home. They would tell everyone that they had been to Jamaica, the weather was perfect, the scenery was beautiful, they got a great deal on this lovely pair of earrings, etc. But, did they really get to know that country? Or did they just visit it?

What does it take to get to know a country? Is it flitting from tourist attraction to tourist attraction? Performing extensive research regarding a country's history? Reading guidebooks on the most famous sites? Learning the language? Asking a random person on the street as to the location of the best restaurant? Striking up a conversation with a local to inquire about customs and culture? What does it take?

To answer those questions, one needs to consider what makes up the fiber of a country, that country's soul, that place's distinction from another place. Of what is that constructed? Local fare? Local inflection? Local history? Local dress?

How long does it take to get to know a country? A weeklong visit to the tourist attractions? A month in a hostel? A year in a host family's home? How long does it take?

Do we even know our own country? Think of all the places we have never been, never seen, never experienced. Most of us have probably not seen those things that a tourist would want to see. So, if we have experienced one but not the other, do we know our country?

I ask because I want to get to know places. I don't want to just visit them. I don't want to go to Paris, see the Eiffel Tower, laugh at my pathetic attempts at French, and go home. I don't want to go to Italy, float on a gondola, eat gelato and pasta, drink Tuscan wine, and go home. I think there's more to it than that. There is more to a country than these things. So how do I go about experiencing the country, and not just visiting it?

Hm.

Travel Plans

The time has come to begin my travels. I was chatting with a friend of mine from Stetson who is currently studying in Spain. She's going to come visit me once the term ends, and we're going to go up to Ireland. I also have the opportunity to bum around with her and her friend in Vienna, Prague, and somewhere in Northern Italy in late March during her spring break. My other dear friend who is studying abroad in Switzerland is going to visit me at some point, and we're going to visit Scotland.

Three difficulties: timing, money, and finding a travel partner. No way I am traveling anywhere by myself. My flatmates are good candidates; plus there are others in the program I've befriended who could accompany me. Combining who I can travel with and when we can travel there may prove to be extremely difficult.

I've prioritized my travel goals. I want to go everywhere that a person could possibly go, and get the most out of everywhere I go. Unfortunately, I am not that experienced with travel and therefore may find myself wasting lots of time wandering around aimlessly. I need to have a plan. Or, perhaps the trick of great traveling is not having a plan and just going wherever the wind takes me. I have no idea. I have to find out soon, though, because the time approaches. I digress. Prioritized travel goals include: Ireland. Scotland. France. Spain. The first three because they are the most easily accessible. The last because my friend is studying there, and I've wanted to go there for years. I'm not sure if I should limit myself to those four just for the sake of having a limit, but then that might close me off to other possibilities ... I don't know. We'll see how it goes.

On another note, I realized that, even though I have only been here for four weeks, I am going to miss this place. It's beginning to feel like home, like I belong here. This is my flat, my city. Even though it has been difficult, I've built a life for myself, as I tend to do. I have established a rhythm. Not the same kind of rhythm as at home, where everything is in a routine and is structured and constantly moving. No, this is a different rhythm. It's as if I have connected with my surroundings, and we work with each other. Does that make sense? I'm at peace with this place. And I'm thoroughly enjoying that peace.

Time for bed, and Wuthering Heights in the morning.

Illness

I have the flu. Lovely. Just as I was starting to get into the swing of things - making friends, joining clubs, rocking my tutorials. NOT okay.

I had to cancel my tutorial yesterday because a) I could barely move and b) I didn't want to spread disease amongst the Oxford population. Bad enough I'm doing it to my flatmates. So I emailed my tutor and said that I wasn't feeling well, that the doctor said I might have the flu, can we please reschedule? He responded, "I suppose that's fine. Are you still on track for our other tutorial? You know, the Oxford term is quite hectic and we can't really afford to rearrange tutorials like this in the future. But, if you're sick, you're sick. Feel better."

And, of course, I felt horrible.

Granted he doesn't know this, but I'm not the kind of person to fake illness to get out of doing things. I was up at 4:30 that morning agonizing over what to do. Spending the whole day in bed watching reruns of the OC online and reading, though it was quite pleasant, drove me crazy. I'm not being productive. And I hate not being productive.

Oh, and for anyone considering going abroad, do yourself a favor and don't get sick. It's quite obnoxious to be ill in a place where people can't just go pick things up for you and dote on you to make you feel better, and your friendly and familiar doctor isn't around to smile at you and give you the right medicine.

I am forcing myself to get better soon. I can't stand this lying around, feeling miserable-ness. So enough is enough.