Race Results

OK, well, I think I've kept you in suspense long enough. (Actually, I got distrcted yesterday with this essay on naming and identity in Malory's Le Morte Darthur, but I don't really want to talk about it. Ever.) The Regent's Park novice crew rowed a very impressive 5:29! Um, yeah, that's 5 minutes and 29 seconds with an average stroke rate of something like 28/29? We were very in time with each other, and frankly, it was the best outing we have had thus far! We were quite pleased with ourselves. Overall, in the entire race, we came in 7th out of 17, and in our division, we were 2nd. Go Regent's! (I'll probably fill you guys in about my week a little later on--it involves being trapped inside a closed cathedral. I have this essay looming above my head like the Sword of Damocles. Not a happy camper.)

Week 5 Blues? No, no.

In Oxford, there is a sort of legend of Fifth Week Blues where students really feel the pains of being a sleepless, tired, worn-out, battered Oxford student. Well, last week, I felt none of the blues, because my Fifth Week was ON FIRE! Oh yeah, I said it--on fire.

First, it started off like any week with my Monday Medieval tutorial. I was actually really enthused about my paper that I submitted to my tutor because I felt I really had a grasp on what the poem "Patience" was trying to do with medieval readership. All of the lectures I had been going to for the past weeks seemed to be preparing me for this one essay. I talked about the problem of Biblical hermeneutics in the Middle Ages (which came from Dr. Kantik Ghosh's brilliant lectures called "Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory") and also about affective piety and its importance in lay worship (thanks to the enthusiastic and enlightening Dr. Annie Sutherland in her lectures on "Belief and the Body in Late Medieval Lit"). So, yeah, maybe I got a little carried away, because my essay ended up being about 3,500 words when the assignment called about 1,500-2,000. My tutor didn't really hold that against me too much, even though on Monday, during our tute, she started off by saying, "Jarred, it is your turn to read your essay out loud, although if you are hoarse by the end, I understand." We spent the entire tute on the points I raised in my essay which she called interesting, but she didn't score me any higher that last week. It was kind of frustrating, but I still wrote a good paper, despite her lack of positive regard.

Then, on Thursday of last week, I had my Oscar Wilde tutorial. Now, can you say, "Publishable?" Well, my tutor certainly can, cause he said it to me. He told me that the argument that I had constructed about Wilde's play, "A Woman of No Importance," could easily be published. So, yeah, I was very very thrilled to hear that. I'm not sayin, I'm just sayin. Furthermore, my tutor suggested that I get in contact with Dr. Sos Eltis, the only other critic who has even touched what I was looking at in Wilde's work. I am so excited! I attended all of her lectures on Wilde, and she is truly an amazing scholar and professor. I would absolutely die to meet with her one-on-one and have an Oscar Wilde love fest. I e-mailed her, and I am still waiting--but I'm optimistic.

Later on that Thursday, to celebrate, I went to a poetry reading. Ok, yeah, I know. Only a complete word nerd goes to a poetry reading to celebrate a great tutorial. Read my blog now, and judge me later, yeah? Anyway, I went to The Big Bang, this restaurant in Jericho (a part of Oxford that was a city and might still be its own city, but I don't think so. It's a thing). Downstairs, the OUPS sponsored a reading by Lemn Sissay, an awe-inspiring poet with a keen perception of human language and how it's spoken. Every word that came from his lips--poetry or just speech in between--was fascinating. In between poems, he said something along the lines of, "Poetry, man--it's dangerous. And it's everywhere." Darn right, Lemn, darn right! I want to share with you one of his poems, which is linked on his blog: http://blog.lemnsissay.com/blog/_archives/2009/11/12/4379536.html
Yeah, go there, and click on the hyperlink "The Waitress" in the fourth stanza. This poem gave me chills and my jaw dropped. It was moving and sickening at the same time. So, brief caveat, if you are uncomfortable with the taboo (sex, death, race, politics), then please do not listen to "The Waitress." Maybe find a safer poet? Maybe find a nice Victorian. But I think "The Waitress" sums up very well what Sissay does with his words, with his audience, and with his life.

Well, that was pretty much the highlights of my last week. I will probably post tomorrow about my this week, 6th Week. You should be on the edge of your seat because, let me just tell you, it ends with a rowing race. Oh yeah, be excited! I raced today, and I'll give you the details tomorrow. I'm going to officially log off the internet and see if I can't write a few more paragraphs on this medieval essay I'm working on. Have a great day!

A Week of Poetry!

This week has been filled with poetry, which is definitely not a bad thing! First, I've been surprisingly into this poem that I'm reading for my Medieval Lit tutorial. It's called "Patience" from The Poems of the Pearl Manuscript, which is this collection of four poems: "Pearl," "Cleanness (or sometimes called Purity)," "Patience," and "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." These poems are believed to have been written in the late 14th Century, but like with most Medieval manuscripts, it's ambiguity-palooza. Anyway, "Patience" is a retelling of the Jonah story, and because of all of the Medieval lectures I've been going to, I feel like I've got a really good handle on what the poet is doing. One lecture, Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory, is really focused on how the Bible is interpreted and the religious complications that arise when Medieval scholars/clergymen place human interpretations on it. It is a really dense, thick lecture, but it definitely helps here because the Pearl Poet is re-interpreting a Biblical story. Also, I think it can be read as an exploration of affective spirituality--a form of devotional writing that I've been learning about through the Medieval Literary Theory lecture and my favorite Body and Belief in Late Medieval Literature. We'll see what my tutor thinks on Monday when we discuss the poem.

On a less scholastic note, I've joined the Oxford University Poetry Society and attended two OUPS events this week! The first one was a poetry workshop. Three of us from Regent's Park who are interested in writing went, and we met four OUPS members at the Turl Pub and worked on our poems. What happens is that the poet gives out copies of his or her poem to the rest of the group. The poet then reads the poem out loud three times. After that, the poet does not speak until the end; the goal is to keep quiet and listen to what the poem does after it leaves your control--see if it can stand on it's own, you know? The group then takes the poem through three stages of scrutiny. We ask and answer, "What is the poem about?" Then, "What does the poet/poem do well?" And finally we give constructive criticism. I found it incredible illuminating. Since I've only just been branching outside of my Slam Poetry comfort zone, it was really good to see how my more formally constructed page poems were able to exist without performance. By the way, the OUPS workshop group loved my poem. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin.

Also, Thursday night, the OUPS sponsored a reading in Jericho Tavern by the famous poet Simon Armitage. Well, I was at least told that he was famous. He has published many, many books of poetry, written a few novels, plays, and screenplays. Also, a lot of people study his work for this exam in their schools (I don't remember the name of the exam, but I'll post it as soon as I find out). The girl I went with from Regent's, during the exam, she wrote over three pages on the rhythm of his poem "Kid." The reading was amazing, and Armitage has such a striking presence. His poems mix humor and pathos very well, and his style was natural, yet surreal. The last poem that he read (I don't think it's been published yet because it was in a big black book of just typed up poems) was my favorite, and the silence between the end of the poem and the moment that the audience realized that Armitage was finished sent gave me the shivers. It was beautiful. And I want to leave you with one of his poems that stuck with me from Thursday night. It's on the Poetry Archive's website, linked here: http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=88

And finally, to complete this highly creative week, last night I auctioned off my poetic (dis)abilities at the annual Regent's Park Charity Promise Auction. The two charities we raised money for were the NDCS (http://www.ndcs.org.uk/) and A4ID (http://www.a4id.org/). Last night's goal was to raise over 400 pounds, so we had a lot of inventive pledges. For example, my friend Omar pledged to read a thirty minute bedtime story, and people bid viciously for that one--he raised about 50 pounds. Well, I pledged a personalized love poem, and just to make sure that Regent's Park knew that I could make an interesting arrangement of love metaphors, I gave a little teaser that whipped up before the auction. Now, I don't like to brag or feed my inherent narcissism, but let me just say that after my little preview, hands were flying into the air for a personalized Jarred Wiehe love poem. I raised 64 pounds. By the end of the night, Regent's Park raised over 1,000 pounds for charity, so I feel both creative and philanthropic. I slept well last night. Well, I have to get to work and be productive today, so I'm off. Have a great day!

What a crazy week. I have barely had time to breathe, let alone blog. Rowing has been a major theme in the mornings, as well as in the afternoons, but I really don't want to get into that. I mean, I feel like every session last week did not end with me improving my form or technique. Nope. Instead, I think I got worse and worse. Literally, the rowing coach (Felicity is her name, but she goes by "Flick" because it sounds more hard-core) told me I looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame in the boat. Only, she doesn't address you by name; Flick calls you out by your position in the boat. So, with me, she yells things like, "Bow, you're rowing in a box." Or, "Bow, do you even know what 'backstops' mean?" She's, well, um, intimidating, but she is a really great coach. Every time I learn a body problem of which I have to be hyper-cognizant. For a sport all about repetition--you repeat the movement of the man in front of you, and you repeat the last stroke that you performed--there is a lot of brain strain involved in keeping myself properly functioning.

Now, I feel like I haven't blogged about my academics in forever--it's been a lot of rowing news. Since I am here for higher learning, maybe I should do a little sharing on that front. Actually, I've been terrified to report on the tumultuous relationship between myself and my Medieval tutor. See, she does this thing where no matter what I write, she refuses to truly validate my ideas. The closest she comes to telling me, "Good job," is this really sneaky rhetorical move; she writes and says to me, "Point taken, however..." and follows through with phrases like "you fail to consider" and "making your point extremely limited." Now, let's break this feedback down, shall we? She spends two words to show that she "takes" my idea, and then with one word begins a string of criticism to undercut the previous two word validation. This is hardly an "atta boy." He feedback at the end of my papers are similarly problematic. My first essay (a 66 in Oxford marks, which translates roughly to an B+/A-), she called "well considered," yet "incomplete" as she feels that I did not answer all of her question. It is not a bad grade, yet I was still a little frustrated about it. Anyway, this past essay which she gave back today, she makes use of the same "point taken, however.." move, and used the phrase "competently handled and sufficiently illustrated." But competent and sufficient are some of those ambiguous compliments that aren't really compliments, you know? However, she did score this essay one point higher than the last one, so color me "improved" by her standards. (I'm sorry if the bitter came out in that last sentence; I am trying to keep it in!)

On the happier academic note, I had my second tutorial with John, my Wilde tutor. I'm not sure if I told you this, but he rather emphatically insists that I call him John. He's really young and an American-gone-Brit from California, so he understands where I'm coming from academically. His tutorials are always rather bizarre, and last Thursday was no different. I read my essay looking at the relationship between Wilde's short story, "Lord Arthur Savile's Crime," and Wilde's critical essay, "The Soul of Man Under Socialism," looking specifically at his emphasis on individualism and the artist's role in society. John liked it; he thought it was intriguing, although he kept bringing up The Picture of Dorian Gray, and asking how my argument could be applied to that. In my head, I kept thinking, "But I'm not writing on Dorian Gray, now am I?" Anyway, we discussed Dorian Gray and he said he liked my reading of it. At the end of our tute, I asked him how I was doing (since I am now half way done with it as it is a half tutorial). He said, "Definitely A level work. Don't worry." This week, in stead of the questions he suggested I write on, I talked with him about me researching the intersection of Wilde's drama, American Lit, and his perception and portrayal of Americans. He was OK with this idea, so I'm happy.

Besides rowing, I'm really looking forward to doing some drama and creative writing in Oxford. There's the Oxford University Poetry Society, which I'm planning on getting involved in. As for the theatre, there is the university competition called "Cuppers" that I'm going to perform in. It's only open to freshers (but I think I'm eligible since technically I'm like a Regent's Fresher). Basically, Cuppers is like a One-Act Play competition where different colleges can submit 30 minute plays which are then judged in different categories. One of the clever freshers has written a 30 ensemble based comedy show about the history of theatre. I have a part and we are going into competition rehearsal mode ASAP. I cannot wait!

On the River Isis

I skyped back home on Sunday, and my mother's new favorite question was, "Are you warm enough?" Well, it might be a good thing that she's an ocean away, because on Monday morning, she would have fainted. Why? Because I dragged myself out of my cozy bed and into gym shorts, a long sleeved tee under a short sleeved tee, and my jacket, and headed out the door at 5:45am to go rowing. Yeah. That's right. I am rowing at Oxford, and yes, I do feel quite pretentious; thanks for asking. No, but it was an experience, for sure. See, our crew of eight novice rowers met at Regent's Park bright and early (except it was not so bright and a little too early), and we made our way to the university boat house. Guided by the very intense coach, Felicity, and coxed (steered and directed) by Lottie (one of the rowing captains), we made our way up and down the river Isis. Actually, fun nomenclature fact--the river Isis is really the Thames, except that it does a name chance while it passes through Oxford. In a way, it's like the artist formerly known as Prince. Anyway, I was rowing bow, so I was at the front of the boat, which was nifty. We must have been on the river for at least an hour as the sun came up and other colleges started their training. The best feeling was getting into a steady rhythm with the three other guys rowing "bow four," and Felicity shouted from the bank, "Good work, bow four. Not bad." Oh yeah, validation in the a.m.!

I would like to impart some new knowledge that I gained Monday morning. First, when not using your oar, you should cradle it. Yeah, just cradle it in your arms like a tiny baby. Because, I guess oars need love, too. And, if you kill a goose, it's bad news. Once, Felicity's crew actually killed a goose with their boat while crossing the finish line of a race. In theory, you're then supposed to write a letter to the Queen apologizing for goose-icide, but I don't think anyone really does that. Still, how hardcore do you have to be to kill a goose with your oars?! Well, I have to get to bed now. Tomorrow I am rowing at 6am and then again at 3:30pm. I may or may not have arms on Friday. We'll see.

Callbacks

I just wanted to fill you guys in on callbacks for the improvisational comedy group, the Oxford Imps. Well, out of the original like 60 or 70 people that showed up for the first audition, only 25 of us were called back. Each performer did about two improved scenes with a partner, and it was really fun. Ultimately, though, I was not what they were looking for this year. And there were some AMAZING performers at the auditions--I really hope they made it. But what has been the best part of this whole experience is that now I am running into people from the auditions around Oxford. In fact, the morning of callbacks, I was in a lecture on Body and Belief in Late Medieval Literature (which was absolutely amazing, by the way), and one of the guys already in the Imps who was judging at auditions sat down behind me. We talked for a bit about nerdy English Literature stuff before the lecture. That was nifty. Later Friday night, after the auditions, some friends and I were walking down Cornmarket Street when I ran into two of the other people who made call backs. And yesterday afternoon, I ran into someone else from the preliminary auditions. Basically, even though I didn't make the Imps, I've made some sort of impression--at least enough of an impression to be recognizable while hanging out in Oxford. Yay, me!

Tute-talk

Hey, everybody. Well, this week has been hard. I'm not going to lie--it's been really hard. I have had my first meetings with both of my tutors, and I have been to some lectures. I have officially started my Oxford academic life. Let me break it down for you:

On Monday morning at 10:45, Hayley and I had our first Medieval Literature tutorial where we discussed "where we can discern reality in The Canterbury Tales." If your face is making a very weird express, that's OK, because I can guarantee that mine looked about twice as worse. I was not reading for concepts of reality in the text; I was more focused on Chaucer's subversive religious couplets and social criticism. In fact, I had an argument a-brewing in my mind about how Chaucer uses comedy to deliver concerns about a corrupt Medieval Church, only that argument was shut down. Hard. My tutor told me, "No. Chaucer is not a theologian. Do not go down that road." So, after that hour of fairly traumatic fun, I hit the English Faculty Library for research on my Medieval paper about moral framework in the tales. That library, after all the time this week I've spent there, has become my new best friend.

Tuesday was interesting, as well. I checked my e-mail that morning, and after weeks from not hearing from my Wilde tutor, I get an e-mail saying that we're going to meet on Thursday, and to please compose a four to five page essay considering the background of Aestheticism. You remember that face from the last paragraph? Well, insert it here, too, cause I had no idea where to begin. I had a lot of Wilde main work under my belt, but as far as his influences, such as Walter Pater, J.-K. Huysmans, and others, I was completely illiterate. So, my plan was this: go to some lectures on Medieval Lit in the morning, and spend the rest of the day in the EFL (English Faculty Library). I took off to make it to a 10am lecture on Chaucer poetics, only when I arrive, I sit down in Lecture Theatre 2. I needed to be in Lecture Room 2. By the time I realized this and tried to get over to LR2, the room was filled and the next lecture that I wanted to go to at 11am was canceled. Basically, this means that from 10-12:30, I was in the EFL doing research on Pater and Huysmans and their influences on Wilde. I got some great quotations, and seeing as how I only had TWO DAYS to write this essay, I was really quite on top of everything. Except for missing those lectures...

Wednesday was great in the sense that I actually went to my first lecture! Now, lectures are not mandatory, but they provide a lot of information that might be difficult to get from just pouring over books in the libraries. Plus, they provide a social learning environment, unlike the one-on-one tutes. The lecture I went to was called "Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory" and it proved to be insightful, yet really dense. The material, even though watered down quite a bit, was thick--a lot of theory to grasp at once. I enjoyed it well enough, although I don't think it is particularly useful for my papers right now.

Thursday was such a bizarre day. First, Hayley and I went to a brilliant lecture of Middle English, specifically the language and theories of authorship in Medieval texts. Without printing presses, the authors works are given to scribes to rewrite, and scribes make mistakes. Scribes might actually change drastically the meaning of texts, accidentally or intentionally. It's pretty crazy. Also, I found the cultural connotations of different Middle English diction pretty fascinating as well. For example, words from French or Latin roots have more power than words from a Germanic root because French and Latin are used in law courts, official documents, Church decrees, and so on. This new knowledge will definitely come in handy for my Chaucer paper. Thanks, Dr. Barr!

After the lecture, I had my first Wilde tute at Linacre College. That was an, um, interesting experience. My tutor and I talked about Wilde, and I read him my essay that I had composed (although it almost felt like he forgot that he assigned me an essay, which was slightly unnerving...). He gave me a little feedback on my essay, stopping me after every paragraph to kind of gloss what I had written. We then went through Pater's Marius the Epicurean, and he explained to me what that was all about. It wasn't a bad session, but it wasn't mind blowing, either. I left kind of confused about what we actually accomplished and kind of unfulfilled.

Then that evening, I skipped dinner at Regent's Park because I had an audition with The Oxford Imps, an improvisational comedy group. They were pretty nice and fun people, and I did enjoy myself at the auditions, but I was certainly not on my A game. Not even my B game. In fact, I left thinking, "Well, there are plenty of other groups that I can get involved in because there's no way I got a call back." So what am I doing today? Well, I got a call back. They want to see me again because they liked my physicality on stage and my involvement with my scene partners; however, they want to see me out of my comfort zone a little more. Um...yeah, I think I can do that.

Also, today there are two more lectures I want to go to: one on Medieval and another on Decadent Gothic (which I think might help with Wilde). Yep. Wish me luck tonight, and also wish me massive amounts of luck on my Medieval paper. I'm a little nervous about both. Well, have a good week-end, y'all. (Man, I don't get to say y'all enough over here.)