I feel rather unwell today, and as a result have gotten very little done. Though I did polish off a Narnia book for my Lewis class (and we all know how taxing THAT must have been), attempting to conquer the major works of Anselm with a fuzzy head and a fever is not easily done. I ended up keeping indoors all day (due in no small part to the cold, damp weather--yes, it finally comes), eschewing dinner at the Eagle and Child and later a party at one of the Senior Common Rooms. I did get to see part of Pride and Prejudice tonight, but prudence (ha! another "P" word) sends me to bed before its completion in search of rest. Josh, our Junior Dean (think RD) knows it practically word for word, further raising him in my estimation.
Last night was wonderful for all concerned, as the Vines hosted an Open Mike/Talent night. Some silly acts, some serious, and in the end I think we really did bond a bit more as a "community." I decided to dust off my old Richard III monologue (for those of you who saw me in the Creative Arts Festival last year, you know of what I speak). I was pleased with the performance I gave, and it seemed to be very well received (I heard "amazing," "scary," and was compared to Kenneth Branagh, among other things, though I confess the praise was perhaps slightly exaggerated. But then, why do I put it here...). I had forgotten how much I enjoyed acting, when my heart is in it, and while I may not audition for anything while I am here, it was a good feeling. Afterward, I ending up standing around talking and singing (yes, singing; Disney, hymns, showtunes, praise songs) with some friends for an hour and a half or so.
Tomorrow, if I am well enough (and by well I mean "if I have a pulse and brain activity") I will be venturing out for fencing lessons. To say I am looking forward to this would be like saying...well...it would be an understatement. I am also looking into ballroom dancing lessons, which I have been wanting to take for as long as I can remember (decide for yourself how long that actually is). Oh, and there is also a Kendo society at Oxford (wish you were here, John!) which is, in the words of the young folk: "sweet." So yes, Brian will be getting stabbed, hit, stepped on, and generally making a fool of himself, but having the time of his life. Oh. Yeah. There are classes here, too...
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Return Again to the Place You've Never Been
Greetings, faithful friends and acquaintances. I see it’s been...oh...dang...about a week since I last updated. I begin to see the difficulty of keeping an online journal, especially in an excursion such as this. If ever you fall behind, or in my case start behind, inertia begins to work against you. Ah well…
Last week was the conclusion of orientation, along with a fieldtrip to historic Bath (pronounced bAHth). We all piled into one of those two leveled buses one supposedly sees all over the place in Britain; it was like elementary school all over again, with another student running with me to get the front top seats. Once at Bath, we clambered around the ancient Roman baths (see? See the connection?) like a flock of American tourists on holiday. Which, of course, we were. Also of note were the outstanding architectural works of the John Woods (junior and senior): Queens Square, Kings Circus, and the Royal Crescent. We also learned of the deadly scourge that once populated the British landscape: the Haha.
***Begin Explanation of Anglicism***
A Haha is a wall or shelf built into the side a hill or a meadow. From below, it is clearly a stone wall, but from the above, it is hidden by the majestic rolling fields, and one only sees grass. Hence, when one is frolicking in the fields, as they once did in Britain on a regularly basis in the time before frolicking fell out of fashion and was replaced by a stern and purposeful gait, one could go right over the edge and an succumb to the effects of gravity. Any surrounding bystanders, and possibly nearby sheep, would then, of course, give a hearty “Haha.” Hence the name.
I swear I am not making this up.
***End Explanation of Anglicism***
Also of note was the stunning Bath Abbey. I have been in a few Cathedral-esque stained-glass encrusted buildings in my time, but this one was uniquely impressive for me, thought by no means the largest or most grandiose. I had the immediate thought that I would like to get married there, but most likely I would need to be an Earl or a Duke or invent a new kind of bread and meat food before that would be possible.
This week marks the debut week of my “normal” routine here. Today was my first Greek reading class (an informal affair conducted over lunch and coffee [none for me. Tea man, don’t you know] with some 15 other students and postgrads) where we began with John’s gospel. My tutor is quite perfect: a quick witted older English gentleman who also, incidentally just published his own translation of the New Testament (complete with praise verbage from a variety of archbishops and the like). On Thursday, the book of Hebrews (the text of which spent this afternoon kicking me about the room and making disparaging remarks about my parentage).
Next week I begin my C.S. Lewis tutorial. Looks promising, even if we are starting with the Chronicles of Narnia (not bad, you understand, just a little bit overexposed). Amidst my tutorials are scores and scores of lectures (each one held once or twice a week for the length of the term) open to my attendance, all across the city. I am required to attend four, but I will mostly likely settle on at least double that. “Hey kid, come over here and see this candy store...”
Public transportation, as it turns out, does indeed transport the public, though even with the presence of numerous buses, everyone at the Vines does an unbelievable amount of walking on a regular basis. A word about the buses:
***Begin Word about the Buses***
I have no idea where the drivers for the buses here in England come from, nor what sort of advanced technology they use to drive the things, but I only assume they are both somehow a by-product of the Cold War or the space program. These monstrosities routinely bound about the exceedingly narrow metric roads, coming within SIX INCHES (or ten...um...fractameters) of everything: other buses, cars, cyclists, pedestrians, building, low flying aircraft, etc. and yet, there are never any accidents, and business goes on as usual. I can’t help but constantly think of Harry Potter’s Knight Bus (the Night Bus, by the by, is the late bus that runs to pick up the stragglers once the regular lines have turned in for the night).
***End Word About the Buses***
While I am here, I should probably mention something about my fellow students. While there is the usual broad spectrum of personalities, they are for the most part a quality bunch. There are so many bright people here from so many different backgrounds and disciplines; one is usually not in want of a good conversation or debate here (that is, of course, until deadlines begin to press). It is sort of like normal college life distilled, concentrating the good bits and eliminating much of the extraneous, including the people who are not truly passionate about learning, and about the subject which they are studying. There are few people here I dislike, some whom I tolerate, most I am at least acquainted with, many I am getting a long well with, and some I am truly becoming friends with. (I know I ended those prepositions. It was an intentional protest against archaic and unnecessary constraints. Or something.)
A random sampling:
Phil-A long-haired, heavy-metal-fan, classics student from rural Maine. Wonderfully quick witted fellow and one of the most down to earth people in the program.
Jake- A fellow Biblical languages type from North Carolina. Reminds me a bit of my Dad, with good natured southern humour. He also appreciates the virtues of sweet tea (good man), and insists that, no matter what they say, these things here are not “biscuits.”
AJ- A chap from Woodstock. He is a political science major, and future campaign advisor/evil genius of some sort. Great politico and policy wonk, and a bright guy. He is also blind, leading me to fondly christen him Zato-AJ in my internal monologue, after Shintaro Katsu’s legendary blind swordsman.
I suddenly see the danger of starting to mention people, because then there is no way to stop. Katrina, also from Woodstock, deserves mention as well; quite a talented and multifaceted lady, and also a very unique snowflake (*tips hat to Emily*). But then, most of my friends are. (If you’re reading this, that probably means you. It’s ok. It’s a good thing)
That is it for now, I believe. Now that I am a bit “caught up,” more frequent entries to follow, I hope.
Grace and peace from our Lord Jesus be with you all,
Brian
Last week was the conclusion of orientation, along with a fieldtrip to historic Bath (pronounced bAHth). We all piled into one of those two leveled buses one supposedly sees all over the place in Britain; it was like elementary school all over again, with another student running with me to get the front top seats. Once at Bath, we clambered around the ancient Roman baths (see? See the connection?) like a flock of American tourists on holiday. Which, of course, we were. Also of note were the outstanding architectural works of the John Woods (junior and senior): Queens Square, Kings Circus, and the Royal Crescent. We also learned of the deadly scourge that once populated the British landscape: the Haha.
***Begin Explanation of Anglicism***
A Haha is a wall or shelf built into the side a hill or a meadow. From below, it is clearly a stone wall, but from the above, it is hidden by the majestic rolling fields, and one only sees grass. Hence, when one is frolicking in the fields, as they once did in Britain on a regularly basis in the time before frolicking fell out of fashion and was replaced by a stern and purposeful gait, one could go right over the edge and an succumb to the effects of gravity. Any surrounding bystanders, and possibly nearby sheep, would then, of course, give a hearty “Haha.” Hence the name.
I swear I am not making this up.
***End Explanation of Anglicism***
Also of note was the stunning Bath Abbey. I have been in a few Cathedral-esque stained-glass encrusted buildings in my time, but this one was uniquely impressive for me, thought by no means the largest or most grandiose. I had the immediate thought that I would like to get married there, but most likely I would need to be an Earl or a Duke or invent a new kind of bread and meat food before that would be possible.
This week marks the debut week of my “normal” routine here. Today was my first Greek reading class (an informal affair conducted over lunch and coffee [none for me. Tea man, don’t you know] with some 15 other students and postgrads) where we began with John’s gospel. My tutor is quite perfect: a quick witted older English gentleman who also, incidentally just published his own translation of the New Testament (complete with praise verbage from a variety of archbishops and the like). On Thursday, the book of Hebrews (the text of which spent this afternoon kicking me about the room and making disparaging remarks about my parentage).
Next week I begin my C.S. Lewis tutorial. Looks promising, even if we are starting with the Chronicles of Narnia (not bad, you understand, just a little bit overexposed). Amidst my tutorials are scores and scores of lectures (each one held once or twice a week for the length of the term) open to my attendance, all across the city. I am required to attend four, but I will mostly likely settle on at least double that. “Hey kid, come over here and see this candy store...”
Public transportation, as it turns out, does indeed transport the public, though even with the presence of numerous buses, everyone at the Vines does an unbelievable amount of walking on a regular basis. A word about the buses:
***Begin Word about the Buses***
I have no idea where the drivers for the buses here in England come from, nor what sort of advanced technology they use to drive the things, but I only assume they are both somehow a by-product of the Cold War or the space program. These monstrosities routinely bound about the exceedingly narrow metric roads, coming within SIX INCHES (or ten...um...fractameters) of everything: other buses, cars, cyclists, pedestrians, building, low flying aircraft, etc. and yet, there are never any accidents, and business goes on as usual. I can’t help but constantly think of Harry Potter’s Knight Bus (the Night Bus, by the by, is the late bus that runs to pick up the stragglers once the regular lines have turned in for the night).
***End Word About the Buses***
While I am here, I should probably mention something about my fellow students. While there is the usual broad spectrum of personalities, they are for the most part a quality bunch. There are so many bright people here from so many different backgrounds and disciplines; one is usually not in want of a good conversation or debate here (that is, of course, until deadlines begin to press). It is sort of like normal college life distilled, concentrating the good bits and eliminating much of the extraneous, including the people who are not truly passionate about learning, and about the subject which they are studying. There are few people here I dislike, some whom I tolerate, most I am at least acquainted with, many I am getting a long well with, and some I am truly becoming friends with. (I know I ended those prepositions. It was an intentional protest against archaic and unnecessary constraints. Or something.)
A random sampling:
Phil-A long-haired, heavy-metal-fan, classics student from rural Maine. Wonderfully quick witted fellow and one of the most down to earth people in the program.
Jake- A fellow Biblical languages type from North Carolina. Reminds me a bit of my Dad, with good natured southern humour. He also appreciates the virtues of sweet tea (good man), and insists that, no matter what they say, these things here are not “biscuits.”
AJ- A chap from Woodstock. He is a political science major, and future campaign advisor/evil genius of some sort. Great politico and policy wonk, and a bright guy. He is also blind, leading me to fondly christen him Zato-AJ in my internal monologue, after Shintaro Katsu’s legendary blind swordsman.
I suddenly see the danger of starting to mention people, because then there is no way to stop. Katrina, also from Woodstock, deserves mention as well; quite a talented and multifaceted lady, and also a very unique snowflake (*tips hat to Emily*). But then, most of my friends are. (If you’re reading this, that probably means you. It’s ok. It’s a good thing)
That is it for now, I believe. Now that I am a bit “caught up,” more frequent entries to follow, I hope.
Grace and peace from our Lord Jesus be with you all,
Brian
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Here I go again on my own...
Greetings,
It has been almost a full week now since I left the land of my birth, the land of my ancestors, to travel far across the sea to expand my intellectual horizons in the land of…my other ancestors. So much has happened since then. I’m married now. Ha, no, not really. But I have been rather slow in my communications, and I apologize to all injured parties. A combination of computer difficulties, the orientation schedule, and the lure of all the shiny pretty things in Oxford have all conspired against me.
So, let me explain...No...there is too much. Let me sum up:
Travel: On a scale of one to ten, travel rated as “not so fun,” with rampant delays and mechanical issues (on the ground, thankfully) that seemed to be pushing the patience of many of my fellow passengers. But then, it just adds to the adventure right? I mean, braving the harsh environment of the Detroit airport with only my compensatory meal vouchers standing between me and predatory raids on the pet kennels? What stories I can tell the grandkids! And I even got from the airport to the bus station all by myself. All in all, I arrived late for the pre-introductory orientation orienting.
Accommodations: I am staying in a magical place known as The Vines (so rechristened [from the unimaginative “Pollock House”] in honour of the original owner, an eccentric botanist named, you guessed it, Vine, who had originally called the manor, in a fit of predictability, “Vine House”).
The Vines is a hundred and thirty year old Victorian (the math works, see?) three story manor house that has been converted to board students. Some thirty students reside here, mostly on the second (guys) and third (girls) floors, with two married couples and our house junior dean (think RA or RD) comfortably established on the ground floor.
**Begin Explanation of Idiomatic Anglicism**
You see, boys and girls, in the United States, we begin labelling a building’s floors starting with the first, and continuing on in sequential numerical order. Obviously, this can lead to Massive Confusion, often resulting in the deaths of thousands of people, and often household pets. The British system, sidestepping these obvious errors, labels the bottom floor of a building the “Ground Floor” (because it sits on the ground. See?). The next floor, which in Yankee parlance would be the “second” floor, is instead known as the “First Floor”.
**End Explanation of Idiomatic Anglicism**
My “room” (as they are called here) is on the second floor, shared with my roommate Justin McGeary. Justin is an English Major, and a fine chap. Also on the ground floor is a dining room, a common room, and a kitchen. We must, alas, share the bathrooms scattered throughout the house, eight in all.
Also, some twenty to twenty five more students live in a building on Woodstock Road, a building affectionately known as “Woodstock.” Sadly, not a single band or musical group has yet performed there. Woodstock has the advantage of being closer to the city centre, and therefore closer to the colleges and “neat things” in Oxford. We of the Vines are on the edge of town, but our facilities are more extensive, and our community is a bit stronger (Woodstock is separated into three flats, so the students there do not interact with each other as regularly).
Academics: Oxford, instead of semesters, is built around eight-week terms, each with clever British sounding names: Michalmas, Hilary, and Trinity. We are now standing on the cusp of Hilary term (this is permissible in Oxford because here cusps are constructed out of durable and ancient stones which can withstand the weight of many students). This week is ”0th week”, to be followed by 1st week, and so forth. I suppose now would be a good time to introduce the famed and much ballyhooed…
*OXFORD TUTORIAL SYSTEM!*
The Oxford system dispenses with pesky concepts such as “classrooms” and “classmates” and instead allows the tutor (Professor in the States) weekly or biweekly with individual students. Traditionally the tutor assigns a nigh impossible amount of reading, and an essay topic for the student to complete by the next session. The student then returns and presents his essay (usually reading it aloud). Occasionally, the tutor viciously deconstructs the essay and forces the student to defend his arguments. Other times, the tutor simply hits the student in the head with a "cricket bat".
None of the actual classes have started yet (as the 0 in 0th indicates). Once they do, we will each have two tutorials, as well as a seminar course in our particular field (theology, philosophy, etc). After 8th week, we visiting students keep going for another four weeks, when we will conduct our Christianity and Culture seminar.
Hmmm. I think that is probably enough of my life for one sitting. Tune in next time when I will discuss the wonders of the City, public transportation, and my relations with my fellow students
It has been almost a full week now since I left the land of my birth, the land of my ancestors, to travel far across the sea to expand my intellectual horizons in the land of…my other ancestors. So much has happened since then. I’m married now. Ha, no, not really. But I have been rather slow in my communications, and I apologize to all injured parties. A combination of computer difficulties, the orientation schedule, and the lure of all the shiny pretty things in Oxford have all conspired against me.
So, let me explain...No...there is too much. Let me sum up:
Travel: On a scale of one to ten, travel rated as “not so fun,” with rampant delays and mechanical issues (on the ground, thankfully) that seemed to be pushing the patience of many of my fellow passengers. But then, it just adds to the adventure right? I mean, braving the harsh environment of the Detroit airport with only my compensatory meal vouchers standing between me and predatory raids on the pet kennels? What stories I can tell the grandkids! And I even got from the airport to the bus station all by myself. All in all, I arrived late for the pre-introductory orientation orienting.
Accommodations: I am staying in a magical place known as The Vines (so rechristened [from the unimaginative “Pollock House”] in honour of the original owner, an eccentric botanist named, you guessed it, Vine, who had originally called the manor, in a fit of predictability, “Vine House”).
The Vines is a hundred and thirty year old Victorian (the math works, see?) three story manor house that has been converted to board students. Some thirty students reside here, mostly on the second (guys) and third (girls) floors, with two married couples and our house junior dean (think RA or RD) comfortably established on the ground floor.
**Begin Explanation of Idiomatic Anglicism**
You see, boys and girls, in the United States, we begin labelling a building’s floors starting with the first, and continuing on in sequential numerical order. Obviously, this can lead to Massive Confusion, often resulting in the deaths of thousands of people, and often household pets. The British system, sidestepping these obvious errors, labels the bottom floor of a building the “Ground Floor” (because it sits on the ground. See?). The next floor, which in Yankee parlance would be the “second” floor, is instead known as the “First Floor”.
**End Explanation of Idiomatic Anglicism**
My “room” (as they are called here) is on the second floor, shared with my roommate Justin McGeary. Justin is an English Major, and a fine chap. Also on the ground floor is a dining room, a common room, and a kitchen. We must, alas, share the bathrooms scattered throughout the house, eight in all.
Also, some twenty to twenty five more students live in a building on Woodstock Road, a building affectionately known as “Woodstock.” Sadly, not a single band or musical group has yet performed there. Woodstock has the advantage of being closer to the city centre, and therefore closer to the colleges and “neat things” in Oxford. We of the Vines are on the edge of town, but our facilities are more extensive, and our community is a bit stronger (Woodstock is separated into three flats, so the students there do not interact with each other as regularly).
Academics: Oxford, instead of semesters, is built around eight-week terms, each with clever British sounding names: Michalmas, Hilary, and Trinity. We are now standing on the cusp of Hilary term (this is permissible in Oxford because here cusps are constructed out of durable and ancient stones which can withstand the weight of many students). This week is ”0th week”, to be followed by 1st week, and so forth. I suppose now would be a good time to introduce the famed and much ballyhooed…
*OXFORD TUTORIAL SYSTEM!*
The Oxford system dispenses with pesky concepts such as “classrooms” and “classmates” and instead allows the tutor (Professor in the States) weekly or biweekly with individual students. Traditionally the tutor assigns a nigh impossible amount of reading, and an essay topic for the student to complete by the next session. The student then returns and presents his essay (usually reading it aloud). Occasionally, the tutor viciously deconstructs the essay and forces the student to defend his arguments. Other times, the tutor simply hits the student in the head with a "cricket bat".
None of the actual classes have started yet (as the 0 in 0th indicates). Once they do, we will each have two tutorials, as well as a seminar course in our particular field (theology, philosophy, etc). After 8th week, we visiting students keep going for another four weeks, when we will conduct our Christianity and Culture seminar.
Hmmm. I think that is probably enough of my life for one sitting. Tune in next time when I will discuss the wonders of the City, public transportation, and my relations with my fellow students
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