I Have Confidence in Sunshine

Clearly, good intentions of regular blogging have fallen to the wayside as my academic Oxford career has accelerated. Perhaps “fallen to the wayside” is too passive a metaphor—“ripped to bloody, mangled carcasses by the savage attacks of academia” might be more accurate.

A quick and dull summation of what I’ve been doing: Monday-Friday, I get up hopefully by 7:30 (but usually at 8:00) in order to bike into the SCIO offices by 9:30. We’ve been progressing through a series of documentaries by Simon Schama called “A History of Britain,” each segment of which lasts an hour. 10:30 is tea. At 11:00 we have a lecture—a few of my favourites have been on English perceptions of the Revolutionary War, John Locke and his philosophy, and women writers from the Restoration up to Jane Austen. Noon is the long-awaited lunchtime.

Technically after that, we’re free for the day—but of course, no one is really free. It’s our assigned case studies that have really been keeping me busy. The case studies are essentially 2,000- to 2,500-word research papers in which we choose from a list of questions about British history, literature, philosophy, et cetera, and make an argument to answer the question. My first question, due last week, was:

1.      “The women of the Arthur legend proved more problematic for later interpreters than did the men.”

And yes, you smart-alecks, I realize that technically that wasn’t a question. We have the next two case studies due next week—a very sneaky act on the part of our professors to fool us into thinking we have more time to write than we actually do, if you ask me.

What’s that you say? Are you insinuating that I’m writing this blog post as a form of procrastination?

…I can neither confirm nor deny that theory.

Next two questions I’m working on are:

2.      Are Shakespeare’s women representative of his age?

and

3.      Do screen adaptations of Austen betray her writing or, as Butler has claimed, signify its universality?

I realize that looking at all of these questions together makes me look like a blazing feminist. Hmm. Draw your own conclusions.

Basically, writing one of these suckers means a lot of thinking, a lot of writing, and a lot of reading.  A LOT of reading. The nature of the questions is really quite subversive—you think it’ll be fairly easy to answer and then as you’re researching, before your eyes, it mutates into this monstrous task. So many definitions to nail down and clarifications to make. It’s like Hercules and the Hydra.

The good news is that it doesn’t seem insurmountable. Difficult, sometimes excruciating, yes—but doable. I feel especially good after receiving my first case study evaluation back yesterday. I had been so nervous about the silly thing. I even had a nightmare that Oxford graded on a 14-point scale and I was awarded a 2. While my actual grade will remain a mystery until the end of term (a terrifying prospect for those of us who are extremely grade-motivated), I received some great feedback.

No, Ginger, you didn’t just get here by some fluke. If you work hard, you can compete academically.

[DULL SCHOLARLY REPORT ENDS HERE]

Overall, I’ve been surprised by my lack of homesickness. I had expected that the Missing would be an overwhelming longing for everything, and it isn’t at all. It’s strange, little things. I miss seeing Lydia’s volleyball games. I miss JBU chapel. I miss driving in the car blasting music with Luke and trying to pitifully hold up my end of a philosophical conversation with Kyle. I miss choir more than I ever anticipated.

Lately, I’ve had this peculiar longing lately for Christmas. I know it’s not even October yet, but I want to decorate a tree and listen to Nat King Cole Christmas albums and be a part of that mysterious Something Bigger in choir as we learn unspeakably beautiful Latin pieces for Candlelight. Christmas merchandise is beginning to trickle onto the shelves at Tesco. Today I caught a glimpse of some kitschy Santa Claus candy and felt such an instantaneous, visceral longing for home and family that I almost felt dizzy.

The moment came and went, and I emerged from the fluorescent grey light of Tesco and into the rare Oxford sunshine. Hopping on my bike to begin the long trek home, I felt that inner glow of knowing that everything will be okay, that I can do more than just survive this semester; I can thrive and learn and grow. I have confidence in sunshine, yes, but I also have confidence in me.