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My Departure

Well, friends and family, it's time for me to leave. My studies here are done, so I'm off to see England (or at least as much of it as I can) before flying home on the 16th. I hope I'll be able to get internet access and post, but it's unlikely. I'm off to a questionable hotel in London which may not even have beds, let alone internet access.

In the event I don't post again, know that I've enjoyed writing about this experience, and I hope you've enjoyed reading about it. My time abroad in Oxford is concluded, but my adventures and the thrilling blog posts that will record them are far from over...

Some Parting Reflections

My recent Oxford experiences have been what I can only describe as sheer madness. Allow me to catalog the craziness...

A few of days ago, I opened the fridge only to have a fist of stink punch me square in the face. Needless to say, I will not be missing the food storage arrangement at Crick. Every time the refrigerator is opened, food items and repulsive odor come pouring out. See for yourself...



Notice the layer of grime at the bottom of the fridge, which is mostly the result of rotten food juice cascading down from the shelves above.



This bag of what appears to be sewer sludge mixed with swamp water was at one time salad. I didn’t think it was possible for rotten food to stink when inside a sealed bag. I was wrong.



On Tuesday, I completed the most substantial writing project of the term, a long essay consisting of approximately 3000 words. While submitting the essay was relieving, writing it was hellish. On Monday night, I started furiously reading and taking notes on the general topic. After staying up all night, I finally developed a specific thesis at 4am on Tuesday, a thesis that forced me to discard about 90% of the research I had just done. I initially had a great rhythm and was efficiently transforming the brilliance in my brain into brilliance on paper, but this phase (as ever) came to a very tragic end.

Occasionally, I would wake up only to find “ddddddd...” on my screen. This would happen after I had fallen asleep at my desk and unwittingly depressed the “d” key for a minute or so. When I was conscious, my writing wasn’t much better! During the final revisions of my paper, I noticed that I had an anthropomorphism in every other sentence. “This paper will attempt to...my essay will show...blah blah blah.” I seriously asked myself,

“Who is ‘essay,’ and why is he writing my paper? Is it considered collusion if I submit something he wrote? Can I go to bed yet?”

The craziness continued when I failed to write on my blog! I’m sure the hundreds of you who visit this corner of the internet on an hourly basis were greatly troubled to find that my regular posting schedule had been disrupted. I’m sure it was for the best, however, as my post probably would have consisted of a long string of “d’s.”

On Thursday (after yet another all-nighter) I completed the final essay required by this program. It feels so good to be done. Though I may be sleep deprived, I have survived what the staff appropriately calls “academic boot camp.” I wrote well over 200 pages this term, and while some of it might contain too many commas or two many “d’s,” most of it is work that I can be proud of. Sweet relief.

After all the hard work, a number of students decided it was time to have fun. Some decided that dancing on the kitchen counter was the best course of action.





Others decided that wrestling would be more enjoyable. What’s not to like about having pain inflicted on every pressure point known to man? If I had just finished an exhausting academic workload, I would also want to throw down with Luke, a second-degree black belt.





Today was the last SCIO meeting, in which we filled out some evaluation forms, attended a chapel, and fellowshipped. I had low expectations walking in but was pleasantly surprised to find myself having a good time. Some people were having such a good time, in fact, that they couldn’t keep it in.



On a more serious note...

I have written this post throughout the course of last night. This is the third all-nighter (or close to all-nighter) I’ve pulled in the last six evenings, so needless to say I’m running on fumes. But in spite of my exhaustion, I can safely say that this has been a night I will never forget.

Final goodbyes are almost always hard to say, but they are especially difficult when spoken to some of the finest people I've ever met. Just as the academic work of this program was intense, so also were a number of the bonds formed between students. I have laughed, argued, rowed, cried, read, and written with these friends; but now the circumstances that forced us into close relationships have ended, and with them our time together. It’s one thing to realize that I will not see a friend for some time, but it’s quite another to realize that I will never see a friend again. I knew the sad time of departure would come, but I guess I just wasn't ready for it.

And so I write this post from a melancholy perspective. Fortunately for me, while there are many people I'm going to miss, there are also many I have been missing. I look forward to retuning to my country, my family, and my friends.

Oxford has been good, but home is better.

It is Finished

At 3pm today, I submitted my very last Oxford essay. Tutorials, seminars, lectures, and essays are all completed. My apologies for the delays in posting, but when I haven't been writing papers, I've been sleeping. I promise that tomorrow I will update my photos and write a lengthy post, but now I need to rest. I am spent.

Oxford has been good for me.

The Last Hurdle

I wish I had the time and energy to write a lengthy blog post, but I am currently in the throes of writing the dreaded long essay. I still have a lot to do, and the deadline for the paper is in 9 hours.

Wish me luck...

A Tribute to Tea (but not to Twiglets)

It seems that a couple of the past few days have marked the last of something in my Oxford experience. For instance, two days ago my tutorials officially ended. Today, another Oxford staple concluded, and this one I will miss more than tutorials, as hard as that is to believe. The Sunday afternoon tea at Crick is no more.

The tradition originated with my favorite junior dean, Jonathan. He realized that our British experience would not be complete without a spot o’ tea, so every Sunday he invited SCIO students to come to Crick and enjoy a cup or two. Those who came had cause for joy, for Jonathan not only provided tea brewed to perfection but also all manner of cakes, biscuits, cookies, and snacks. As his fellow Brits would have it, what a jolly fellow!





By and large, I have no complaints about our Sunday tradition, but I do have one outstanding grievance. In the above picture, you’ll see all the wonderful snacks I mentioned. Most of them are the perfect supplement to drinking tea, but there is one snack that will forever haunt my dreams. Notice the rather large blue and black tin in the center of the image labeled “Twiglets.” These, dear reader, are an abomination.

I first tried Twiglets a couple of weeks ago, and I haven’t been the same since. First of all, they are instantly addictive. You take one bite, and you physically cannot stop stuffing your face. This would be all right if they, like most other addictions, enhanced one’s health and happiness. The sad fact of the matter, however, is that they are both disgusting and unhealthy. They taste like a mixture of bark, charcoal, and pencil shavings; and they instantly cause your breath to become a dangerous weapon that heaven forbid will fall into the wrong hands.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I had control of my mental faculties and could act on this realization by not eating anymore of the blasted Twiglets, but recall what I said about their addictive quality. I normally have the self-control of a vegetarian in a meat market, but put me near a tin of these things and it will be empty in short order, much to the dismay of everyone else and their olfactory organs.

You think I’m exaggerating, but after consuming a few Twiglets this afternoon, people literally refrained from talking to me. That, or they uttered one of the following phrases:

“Dude, turn the other way when you’re talking to me.”

“Tim, how many weeks has it been since you’ve brushed your teeth?!”

“My eyes are burning.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“Shut your cake hole!”

You know who’s fault this is, don’t you? It’s Jonathan’s! He introduced me to Twiglets, and thereby my social suicide. It’s one thing to acquaint naive American students with a British tradition beloved by all; it’s quite another to acquaint them with a new meaning of the word “misery.”

I Have Nothing to Say. Good Night.

I have nothing to say. Good night.